#i loved reply all before it imploded but now it’s like a sad memory | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frogtanii · 3 years

Text

tw. mentions / descriptions of a panic attack

bokuto was excited — more excited than he’d been in weeks!

he was finally getting the time to spend time with his beloved, his puppy, for the first time in forever thanks to the recent onslaught of drama the house had been embroiled in.

he figured he should thank you for bringing it all on because now, as he stood in front of meiko’s room, he had a chance.

“puppy!” bokuto called out, knocking on her door enthusiastically. after a moment of muttering, shuffling around and a loud curse, the door opened up just a crack to reveal meiko clad in only a thin bedsheet with her thin lips wrapped around a cigarette.

kotarou peered over her head and into her room where he spotted a quick flash of dark brown hair before meiko stepped out and closed the door behind her.

“who was that?” he questioned innocently, assuming that it was one of the other housemates. meiko narrowed her eyes at him and blew out a puff of smoke.

“what do you want bokuto.” her voice was steely and cold, nothing like her usual peppy self. still, bokuto couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was in there who shouldn’t be.

“you know,” kotarou began hesitantly, studying her face for reactions. “iwaizumi doesn’t like anyone in here who hasn’t signed a contract. and also you’re not allowed to smoke.” his nose turned up at the smell, disgust for the cigarette written clear on his face.

meiko rolled her eyes at him before taking another drag and blowing the smoke out straight into his face. bokuto tried to hold his breath for as long as he could but his lung capacity wasn’t so great. i need to work on that, he thought as he heaved and choked on the smoke circling down into his chest.

the love of his life adjusted her sheet covering before dropping the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with the end of the blanket. “i asked you a question bokuto. what the fuck do you want?”

the harshness in her tone made him pause. was what he was here for actually important? or would it just bother her unnecessarily?

no, he resolved. bokuto missed her and he wanted to spend time with his kinda-but-not-really-girlfriend! especially after he waited all this time!

“i, i wanted to spend time with you...” with every word, his hesitance grew until he was muttering, the look in meiko’s eyes sending chills down his spine.

“no,” she said and turned back to enter her room. “wait!” bokuto’s hand shot out to grab her arm, very gently pulling her closer to him. “please,” he whispered, tears beginning to rim his wide, golden eyes.

meiko stared back up at him with absolute rage in her eyes as she snatched her limb out of his hold. “listen to me right now bokuto, and listen well,” she sneered, taking a step back towards her bedroom. “i have never liked you. you’re so fucking childish and clingy and annoying! i literally cannot understand how anyone cares to hang around you.”

bokuto felt something inside him shatter at her words, a sharp gasp escaping his parted lips. “but-“ “no buts! you are fucking nothing to me! all you were was a warm body to sleep with but you weren’t even good for that,” meiko’s chest heaved as she finished speaking, her dark eyes trained on the tear tracks on bokuto’s cheeks.

gently, he lifted a hand to his face, barely registering the water that covered them, his mind desperately trying to understand what had just occurred. in the back of his head, he briefly noticed the sound of a door closing and muffled giggling but it was covered by the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

how... could she? he loved her and she, she only wanted to fuck him? he poured out his entire heart, his very soul to her and for what? for her to take it and stomp on it until there was nothing left?

bokuto’s chest felt heavy — he wasn’t breathing. quickly, he took one breath, and then another and another and another until he was collapsed on the ground, heaving for air as he sobbed.

why him? what had he done to deserve this? maybe it was karma — he’d let a plastic bag float by him into a stream when he was 7 even though he knew littering was wrong. maybe it was because he didn’t kiss his mother goodbye the last time he saw her. or maybe the universe was punishing him for everything he’d done to you.

oh, you — the person who meiko had tried so hard to convince him to hate, and he had! his beloved had no reason to lie to him, or at least that’s what he believed until this moment. she lied to him about loving and caring about him so why wouldn’t she lie about everything else?

bokuto’s head was pounding as he tried to rationalize where he’d gone wrong, his usually bright eyes, dull and trained on the ceiling as he attempted to regain his breathing.

it felt like his whole world was collapsing on itself like a fallen star, just waiting to implode and destroy everyone and everything until there was nothing left and—

“hey, look at me, you’re ok,” a soft voice rang out over the buzzing in his head, his eyes beginning to focus on... your figure.

what were you doing here? he so desperately wanted to ask but the words were caught in his throat, trapped behind a wall of despair and anguish.

“don’t try to talk ok? just focus on my breathing, try and match it. i’m going to touch you now.” your soft, small (so much smaller — were you eating enough?) hand wrapped around his own and brought it up to your chest where he could feel the steady rise and fall of your breathing.

bokuto’s breath was shaky and definitely not as smooth as your own, but you didn’t seem to mind, instead holding his hand to your heart until his breathing became level and even.

he must’ve knocked out because by the time he came to, the hall was dark and you were gone, the only memory of you being a box of tissues and a glass of water on the ground next to him.

he reached for the glass first, chugging the whole thing down in only a few seconds. all that crying must have dehydrated him immensely, he realized as he searched for another cup.

standing on shaky legs, bokuto attempted to maneuver to the kitchen, holding onto the walls for stability as he crept through the dark corridors.

he quickly filled up his favorite owl mug (a gift from she-who-will-not-be-named) with water once he made it to the kitchen, extra careful not to make a lot of noise just in case someone was asleep.

bokuto swiftly gulped down his water, placing the cup in the sink where he knew it would not remain because if anything was sure, it was the clean state of the house that meiko kept.

ugh meiko. the whole situation hurt to think about so he didn’t, instead choosing to bury it in the deep recesses of his mind, never to be seen again.

as bokuto trudged upstairs back to his bedroom, he noticed the big black trash bag sat at the end of the hall near daichi’s room. he debated on taking it out himself but was ultimately convinced not to.

it’ll be gone tomorrow, he reasoned as he slipped into his room and bed before quickly falling asleep.

...

it was not gone the next day. neither was the cup in the sink, or the hair on the floor in the bathroom, or the laundry strewn all over the living room.

the whole house seemed to be in shambles and it remained that way for the entirety of the week. meiko was nowhere to be seen, flitting in and out of the house at random, escaping to only god knows where with god knows who.

bokuto didn’t care anymore. she ruined his life so why should he give a half of a shit where she was? what he did care about, on the other hand, was figuring what to do about you.

he wanted to thank you and apologize but he wasn’t sure how to do so! he knew he said some horrible things to you and was determined to make it right — not just for you but for himself too.

℗ poker face

shattered

series masterlist

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an - ok writing this genuinely made me cry???? bokuto is my comfort character so making him go through this i just </3 i hope it came across ok? it’s literally 1 am so there may v well be typos and massive mistakes but i hope u guys enjoy this miserably sad chapter LMAO don’t forget to feed me <3

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @sazunari • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @amberalisa • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @ris-illustration • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @babierin • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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emiewritesthings · 3 years

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the story of our life (2) - jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

part one

masterlist

series summary: in which jay finds an old video camera and him and y/n decide to document their life as it progresses

a/n: this is about a year too late, but i finally got around to writing a part two to this, i was overwhelmed by the support last time. hope you enjoy :)

31st december 2013

if there was one thing that y/n hated, it was making small talk with a bunch of her neighbours. she knew how mean that sounded, but it was the truth. it was the way they worded their questions to serve both as jabs for informations with a hint of an insult, whilst covering it up with the largest fake smile that they could muster up. it was something mrs franklin, the 45 year old, mother of 4 had gotten well practised at, as y/n had the displeasure of finding out.

"so, how's the job hunt going? i know after you dropped out of university it must have been quite a struggle to keep afloat? isn't that why you are still living here with your mom?" she sneered, as she sipped innocently on the cheap bottle of wine y/n's mom had personally assigned just for her consumption. y/n had to restrain herself from slapping the glass clean out of her hand as she remembered what her mother had instilled in her for the last week in preparation for this exact moment.

"oops, i think i hear my mom calling. enjoy your night, yeah?" she stay posed, as she flashed one more faux smile before striding away from the living room and into the kitchen where she grabbed whatever was closest and downed it as quick as she could, frowning at the permanent numbness that hollowed out her entire body.

her head was ringing from the chatter that filled the house, and that would most likely continue until the new year had been welcomed in. the laughter and smiles that were being thrown around didn't sit right with y/n, for what was another year if it was just going to be like the last two. her life had imploded in her hands leaving nothing but a body behind that had no choice but to survive.

"y/n!" someone called out from the other room, however before they had a chance to find her, y/n grabbed two beers from the fridge and shimmied out the back door. the sudden fan of cold december air on her face made her entire chest burn, but y/n liked it, at least it broke the monotony. even if it was just for a couple minutes.

avoiding eye contacts with everyone she passed, y/n found herself rounding her own house until she was stood in the driveway of the neighbouring one. a small smile etching itself on her face as her eyes were met with the old, rotten porch swing that was missing the woman that would be doing her crossword or simply sipping on a cup of coffee no matter the hour. a shiver ran down the woman's back, realising there would not be another moment that she got to see that again.

the house had stayed the same even after all these years, the same paint was chipping away and the wood door was still damaged from where a football had hit it repeatedly during the early years of their sons' lives. however unlike the busy chaos that had once been habituated in the abode, no lights could be seen, no life. just a dull darkness that highlighted how the house she once had known, the family, couldn't be any more different.

pushing past the knot in her stomach, y/n approached the gate to the back garden that was slightly ajar. as she investigated further, a small smile etched itself upon her lips as she was met with two white plastic garden chairs, in one sat pat halstead, whilst the other remained empty.

"well, well, i thought your mother would have chained you to your seat to stop you from pulling a fast one." pat teased, as his eyes strayed away from the dark sky to inspect the woman. patting the seat besides him, the twenty something year old collapsed down into it, before handing one of the cans over to the man, receiving a whispered 'thank you'.

"she got distracted by the mini quiches like an hour ago and i haven't seen her since. couldn't stay there much longer, celia and claire were debating whose husband was the biggest deadbeat." she sighed, as the pair clinked their cans together before they took a longing sip of the liquid, and slipped further down the slightly cracked plastic. her eyes were drawn upwards into the pre-midnight bleakness. however where the winter clouds usually suffocated it, there was a small breaking where two stars shone proudly above them.

"beautiful aren't they?" pat pointed out, clearly confirming y/n's thoughts that the two stars had been the same thing that had caught his interest when she first arrived. running a hand over the wiry beard he had grown over the last two years, his eyes began to water. "uh, sometimes i like to think it's liz and your old man up there, sure she would be chatting his ear off about you and your brother. as well as watching over our jay wherever he may be."

y/n was taken off guard by the older man's comments, but she tried to contain it. in the years she had known pat halstead, it was extremely rare that he voiced his honest opinion about anything. or at least one that wasn't followed by a sarcastic grumble or insult. but to talk about his wife and his son, as well as his best friend, with such emotion brought tears to y/n's eyes.

"you haven't heard from him have you?" she asked in a whisper, not knowing if she truly wanted the answer. the last communication she had with the youngest halstead had been throughout the last period of his mother's life until a little after the funeral, however after not receiving a reply once again and her life on a down spiral she surrendered.

"no, no i haven't," however y/n couldn't help notice that something didn't seem right. maybe it was the way that he shuffled in his chair, refusing to pull his eyes away from the sky to meet her own sad ones. however before she got the chance to confront him, he brought himself to his feet. "wait one moment, i have something for you." watching as he disappeared back into the house, y/n tried to figure out what was going on with him? maybe he wasn't sleeping again? it had been the same for months after the funeral, but she thought he was healing just slightly. she really hoped he had been.

a couple moments later, pat reemerged this time the thing he held in his hands had stolen every inch of y/n's focus. the metal lump that held a thousand memories was being cradled, similar to the way she had been holding it when he had handed it to pat. the sound of his wife's voice in the last clip was something that pat had severed for the last year and a half. it was the thing he would fall asleep to and the thing he would play when he woke up. his liz was still alive in the camera, she was still his liz.

"i thought- i thought you-." y/n couldn't muster up a single thought to vocalise as she was passed the camera. her eyes ran over each dint, scratch, stain that had been acquired over the years. every memory she severed had the image of the red flashing light in it, and yet the person in those videos was someone she no longer recognised.

"this is your life, and i know it feels like it's over, but you have so much to live for and if these videos don't show you that then i don't know what else will." in a rush of uncontrollable emotion, pat wrapped his arms around the daughter he never had and held her as she let out a quiet sob, unsure how to feel.

returning to their seats, pat held y/n's hand as they sat for what felt like days watching the sky deepen. as pat seemed to pray to the heavens that his liz was alright, y/n let her mind run ablaze with unresolved thoughts and emotions as she watched video after video.

it was moments before 2014 came along when her phone let out a painful shrill in search of attention. letting out a small groan, she pulled it from her back pocket, pausing the prom video to answer.

"hello?" she answered.

"y/n where are you? come on, the countdowns about to begin!" her mother yelled clearly unable to hear herself. sighing, looking over to pat who seemed to be hiding something in his eyes, she agreed before hanging up the phone.

"it's not too late for you to come with me you know..." she fluttered her eyes in a humorous attempt at convincing him. the deep chuckle that arose from pat's chest spoke enough for her to work out what was coming next.

"as much as i would love to chit chat with celia and clare over a mini quiche, i'm gonna have to decline." pushing herself off the chair, she leaned over to kiss his cheek softly, pulling away to see the small smile.

"happy new year, pat."

"happy new year, y/n."

the moment she reappeared in her house, she was pretty much been jostled around. somehow the camera that she had walked in with had disappeared from her gasp, and she had made her way to her mother's sight closest to the tv as the countdown clock appeared on the screen. the way her mother smiled at her was slightly unnerving, she knew the woman better than anyone in this world, and just like pat, she was hiding something.

"ten!" they began to chant.

"nine!"

"eight!"

"seven!" a drink was pushed into her hands, which she concerningly took without hesitation. she wasn't even sure who gave it her, but a drink was exactly what she needed right now.

"six!"

"five!"

"four!"

"three!"

"two!"

"one!" suddenly the tv screen was a picturesque screen of fireworks exploding around the country before the whole room erupted in a cheer.

"happy new year!" suddenly everyone was locking lips with their loved ones, friends and whoever was closest to them. however y/n tried to step back, and disappear into the crowd offering a couple of smiles until suddenly she hit something, or someone.

"shit, i'm sorry." she immediately gasped as the drink she was holding splashed against the dress she was wearing, however when she turned to look at her victim her mouth dried out.

there, stood in her living room was jay halstead, in the same uniform that she had last seen him stood in on her doorstep the day he left. what felt like the whole world silencing was actually just everyone in the room turning to look at the pair of them, smiling as they watched the reunion of the couple that never was. however they neither jay or y/n could pull there eyes away from their counterpart.

for a moment they were 17 again, teenagers that didn't know a thing about the world whilst experiencing it together. but this was different, for they were older now. jay's face was more mature, with stumble around his jaw that made him look more in his twenties. y/n's hair was much longer and ever so slightly darker, but jay remembered how the winter did that to her.

"hi." jay smiled, reaching forward to move stands of her hair behind her ears to avoid it from covering up those eyes that were far more fragmented than they had been before. but then again y/n saw the exact same distortion in his own, like half a heart that was on the edge of collapsing.

but at the sound of his voice, y/n fell face first into reality. she remembered every unanswered letter, the loss of hope when she laid in bed completely alone wondering if he was even still alive. she recalled the nights she would sleep on the hospital chair besides his dying mother praying to every god out there that he would be brought back in time to to say goodbye. but it didn't happen, she was left in a void and she didn't know if she would ever be able to get out.

"i-i need to go." she suddenly mumbled, quickly brushing past the army ranger and through the crowd. the awkward, confrontational silence that remained in the room was already enough to tip her over the edge, which only worsened when she saw the red flashing light. stood on the stairs filming the whole debacle was her little brother, who wasn't so little anymore. noticing the shift in mood, he awkwardly lowered it and offered her a sad smile, before she escaped out the door.

what are you doing, she thought, you finally get him back and you are trying to create distance between you two? that was just one of the many nags that bounced off each memory relaying in her mind. so this was what was wrong with pat, he must of known. he knew what was planned, and he said nothing. y/n couldn't blame him, there was no one in this city that would have predicted that she would just walk out like that, well maybe one but he had only just rejoined her life so she couldn't be sure.

her feet lead her to where her heart wanted to be, she cursed herself out for being so stupid as to wear a dress and not grab a jacket during her whole walk out. but the bite of the wind wore off the more blocks that passed until she reached the old creaky gate.

pushing against the metal, even in the pitch black she knew her way. the amount of times she had ended up late at night in this very place gave her that advantage. as she approached the engraved slab that she had helped pat pay for, a sob raked through her body.

"god i wish you could be here right now," crouching down, she leaned forward to run her cold fingertips over the 'ELIZABETH HALSTEAD' scripture. mrs halstead always knew what to say, in any situation. jay and y/n used to blame it on the abundance of dr phil episodes she had watched over the years. yet there was a depth to her words that made your problem feel shared rather than suffocating. "although i'm sure you would be cursing me out right about now for being such an idiot." she thought out loud, remembering what the woman had said when she had told her about the kiss she had shared with the older's son.

she had joked about how it took long enough and what she was going to wear to their wedding, neither of them considering the possibility that she wouldn't get chance for her theory to prosper.

"if that's true, then she must despise me right now." the sudden introduction to the deep voice nearly produced a scream from the woman that turned to see jay staring longingly at the gravestone. just as he brought his eyes to her's, she quickly turned back around, running her hands over her face wondering if he would disappear and all of this would have just been a dream. only it wasn't it was something much more chaotic, filled with resentment, love and the unknown.

"your mom loved you and will more than anything, i don't think she could despise you if she tired," she hummed through a sigh, as jay took a seat besides her. similar to how she had, he leaned forward to run his fingertips over the softened stone, muttering something that he hoped only his mother would hear.

"i really fucked up, y/n/n," hearing the crack rip through his voice, had y/n's head snapping over to him as his shoulders shook slightly as he wrestled with his sadness. "i wasn't here when she needed me most, i wasn't here when you needed me most. she was dying and i wasn't even there to tell her i loved her, what kind of son am i?" the torment that was present in jay's eyes as he turned to look at the only woman that was on the earth to love him ate at y/n's soul, as she found herself wrapping her arms around him, comforting him like he did after the death of her father.

"you a son that made his mother unconditionally proud. she never stopped telling one everyone at hospital about her boys." swiping tears away from under his eyes, ignorant to her own that burnt a trail down her skin.

"i'm not the same guy that left 5 years ago, what i've seen, what i've done-," jay let out a deep breath trying not to fall into the a box of memories he wish he could set alight and never have to face ever again. thankfully the feeling of y/n's fingers tracing nothing in particular against his back grounded him, reminding him that he had been reunited with his home, with his family, with his first and only love. "i got out of there, but that doesn't mean that the war in my mind isn't still on going."

y/n wished she had the answer, a solution, something to help him but she just didn't know what to say. instead she pulled him in tighter, feeling every tip in the think material of the uniform. a uniform that wasn't the jay she knew, but the jay that the army had created, but she knew underneath the camo was still the boy that held her when she feared the lightening outside, or the teenager that broke bryson ellis' nose after he spread rumours about their brief romantic encounter. he was her saviour, he always had been.

"your letters, i did get them. got each one of them in my bag, used to read them before i went to bed. i tried writing back, but i couldn't think of anything to say. i couldn't make anything better and i didn't want you to worry, but i realise that i only made everything worse. i'm just so sorry." pulling away, now it was jay's turn to hold her. in fact he pulled her so close that she was practically in his lap, embracing his body heat with open arms.

"everything's changed, jay," she mumbled, her forehead resting on his chest as she spoke softly. "your mom's gone, your dad's lost, and- and then you and me. last time we saw each other we kissed, we kissed. i- just, i don't know what's happening but i can't stop it." for a moment they both sat there, taking in just how much had changed since they had last been y/n and jay not y/n and jay.

with much care, jay placed his hands around her jay prompting her to look at him. the intense look in his eyes didn't falter for a minute, as he admired the swirls of colour in her's.

"i have been in love with you my entire life, and that is one thing that will never change." declaring his love for y/n y/l/n had always been something jay fantasised about, even as he was stood in a war zone, however never had he imagined it would be in a grave yard nearly an hour into the new year as they fought against the frost. but then again, he didn't care where he was in the world as long as he was by the side of his girl, his love, his y/n.

in a rash moment of euphoria, y/n grabbed his face and pushed his lips against his as if making her own statement to the universe. every ounce of her own soul fuelled itself into something so powerful that was out of the pair's hands. as jay moved his lips against her own, the meaning burnt their insides until they had no choice but to pull away to catch their breath.

with their foreheads touching, for the first time in what felt like 5 years a genuine grin was mirrored on the pairs lips.

"i'm in love with you too." y/n breathed out ruggedly, clearly catching jay by suprised as his eyes widened before the smile on his face got wider.

"wait really?" those had been the words he had wished to hear for every birthday since he was 11, now hearing them made everything a little more brighter. his heart was bumping so quickly, y/n could feel it against her own, yet she said nothing, too caught up in the moment.

"i think it was ignorant of me to think i wasn't years ago. you are it for me, jay halstead." she smiled leaning forward to press another kiss on his lips, this time though it felt as though she was putting the final period on the end of a chapter that neither of them wanted to experience again. for this was a new beginning, the beginning of the story of their lives, together.

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samwinchestershotgod · 4 years

Text

and i love her

(i got sad and wrote samjess u can read it on ao3 :))

Jess hands him another round of tylenol. “You need to take this.”

She sits down next to him as he sweats against the wall, his body still shaking after retching up his dinner. Her hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, with her baby hairs free and perfectly framing her face. She looks exhausted and bare, but Sam can’t help but smile.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles, blinking lazily at her.

“And you’re feverish,” she chides softly, pushing his bangs out of his face. “Glad we’re pointing out the obvious.”

“I’m fine,” he offers.

She scowls and hands him the glass of water from beside her. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have just puke up the beautiful dinner I made for you.”

“All you did was put some ramen in the microwave.”

“I put it in there, didn’t I?” She smiles lightly while watching him down the pills.

Sam grimaces as he swallows, the pressure hurting his throat. “We need to learn how to cook more meals.”

She doesn’t answer him. Instead, she leans his head on her shoulder and wraps her arms around him. She smells nice.

“I don’t want to get you sick, babe,” Sam says, even though he really doesn’t want her to let go.

“I’m not worried,” she replies, stroking his face. “I’ve got an immune system of steel.”

Sam hadn’t been this sick since he was a teenager, and even then he didn’t really remember it. Even then he’s sure that he wasn’t puking his guts out in the middle of the night. He couldn’t tell you what he caught or when he caught it, but when all day he felt like hammered crap. It wasn’t until tonight though, Friday night, that he felt like his insides had been crushed and rearranged inside of him.

“Ugh,” he moans, sinking his head into the crook of her neck. “I feel gross.”

“You are gross,” Jess responds, not unkindly.

“And you’re mean. Glad we’re pointing out the obvious,” Sam mocks. It wasn’t just his stomach. Actually, it was mostly his head that hurt. The lights were too bright and the ringing in his ears was too loud. The puking was an added bonus.

“Jesus, what did you catch?” she says, feeling his forehead.

“I dunno. Has the flu been going around?”

She shakes her head. “Not to my knowledge. Food poisoning?”

“Unless the ramen and the easy mac went bad, I doubt it.”

“How’s your head?” She pokes his forehead playfully.

Sam groans. “Feels like it’s being squeezed from all sides yet also imploding from the inside at the same time.”

“Oh, so not bad at all?” she says with a light laugh. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I haven’t had a headache this bad since I was like, sixteen,” Sam tells her, letting words practically fall out of his mouth. “My uncle Bobby had to take me to the hospital.”

“You have an uncle Bobby? I thought you said your parents didn’t have any siblings.” She gives him a puzzled look.

“He was a friend of my dads. My brother and I just called him that.” He regrets bringing up his childhood, because it’s a gateway for her to squeeze memories out of him. So far, she’s gotten a few, about Dean, about him, but he doesn’t bring up his parents. Even if their photo rested on their dresser.

“How come you never tell me about that stuff? Your dad and whatever.”

Sam shrugs and doesn’t meet her eyes. “It’s never very exciting. My dad moved around a lot for work. My brother and I moved around a lot for school.”

“Well, you got into Stanford,” she responds. “On a full ride.”

“I liked school. My brother--him and I were different. My dad and he wanted different things than me.”

“Is that why you don’t talk to them?”

It strikes a nerve in Sam, but it’s Jess, and he can never really be mad at her. However, she knows better now than to press him, so she doesn’t. It’s not lost on him that he’s secretive. But his life is dangerous, and the farther he can keep her away from it, the happier they’ll be.

He lays his feverish head back on her shoulder without a word, and she lets him. She doesn’t say anything else. She just rubs his arms and he fights back nauseous. The nauseous eventually wins, and he untangles himself swiftly to throw up again. It’s literally just bile at this point, and it burns on the way up.

Eventually he gets uncomfortable on their cold tile floor, and after a whole six and a half minutes (a new record) of not hacking up his dinner, Jess suggests they move him to their bed. “Bed” means their shitty and ripped mattress on a creaky bed frame, but it sounds like absolute heaven to Sam at the moment.

“Maybe we should go to a hospital,” Jess suggests. His head is in her lap as she plays with his hair, twirling and looping it around her fingers. “I think your fever is rising.”

“It’s probably because my girlfriend is super hot,” Sam says with a lopsided grin.

He feels her body move with a giggle. “I mean it, bigfoot. You might, like, melt your brain or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Well, I’m always right, so I think it is.”

They laugh for a few seconds more before Sam starts feeling sleepy and sluggish. He’s perfectly content with staying in bed with her, but something in her demeanor seems to suggest she’s tense and worried, so if he’s getting up at all, it’s for her. But she doesn’t ask again and she keeps playing with his hair, and the next thing he knows, he’s sleeping in her arms, just the way he likes it.

When he sleeps, he knows it’ll be like it always is: plagued with nightmares of old hunts and memories he thought he forgot.

When he sleeps, he knows that Jess stayed awake. She lays next to him, and she talks as if he can’t hear her. He indulges her and pretends he’s dead asleep, but he lets out a little smile when she says “I love you” in a very love-drunk kind of tone. He always feels that way around her-- love-drunk. Dreamy and intoxicated by her. She made him feel good; she made him feel something. He could listen to her rambling on in their shitty bed forever. He could love her forever, if she let him.

Finally, he drifts off for real, sinking into sleep and the warmth that comes with it.

#supernatural #sam winchester #jessica moore #spn #stanford!sam #sick sam winchester #some of us are emotionally damage and some of us is me :)#spn fanfiction #writing #samjess

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missperfectlyfine13 · 4 years

Text

A Bandaid For Your Bullet Hole - (Chp. 2/?)

Read Below or on AO3/FF

TW: Mentions of overdose

August 2009

“Mom, I’ve got all my stuff in the ca….” Chloe’s sentence is swallowed back up into the atmosphere when she walks back into the living room, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Chloe’s mom is sitting in the middle of the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around a scruffy looking man in a mechanics uniform. There’s a few half empty bottles of booze on the coffee table and a lit joint between her mother’s fingers. She laughs airily at some dumb remark the stranger practically underneath her makes. She’s as high as a kite and probably drunk to boot.

“Chloe!” her mom’s eyes light up at the sight of her only daughter, “come have a drink baby.”

The only good thing about her mom getting high instead of drunk is that she is much happier. Her mom is an angry drunk, she turns into someone that Chloe scarcely recognizes. At least when she’s high she somewhat resembles someone Chloe used to know.

“What happened to taking me to college today?” she snaps, completely ignoring her mother’s request.

“That was today?” she asks dumbly, bringing her glass tumbler to her lips, taking a long sip of dark amber liquid.

Chloe groans frustratedly, “We’ve been talking about it for weeks.”

“Calm down princess, we can still do it,” she’s got to be kidding, she’s not going to let her mom drive anywhere like this.

Chloe shakes her head vigorously, “No. It’s fine, I’ll just stuff everything into my car and do it myself. You clearly have more important things to do.”

Her words must permeated through her mom’s hazy brain because she’s jumping up from the sofa, some of her drink sloshing out of her glass and onto the cream colored carpet, “No, Chloe let me do this. I want to do this.”

“I’m not taking you anywhere like this,” Chloe motions up and down her mother’s body, “you would just be an embarrassment.”

Her expression almost looks hurt before it turns bitter, “If that’s how you feel about me, then fine do it all on your own. See if I care.”

Chloe turns around without another word. She mindlessly shoves all her belongings into her little chevy impala, barely getting in everything she needs. She doesn’t even bother to go inside to say goodbye before driving down the road. It’s time for a new beginning, a new life, one she doesn’t have to hate. She has a good feeling about Barden, hopefully her gut is right.

************

December 2012

The winter air is crisp, sending a shiver down Chloe’s spine as her and Beca walk towards her dorm. They just left Bellas rehearsal and the air almost feels good after all the exercise.

“So, what are you doing for winter break?” Beca breaks the comfortable silence, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her coat.

Chloe shrugs, “I’ll probably stay on campus, I might go visit my brother, if he’s going to be around.”

Beca looks at her dumbly for a moment before composing herself again, “You aren’t going home for Christmas?”

Her and Beca have gotten really close this semester, Chloe might even dare to say she’s her best friend…if she didn’t have a heart stopping crush on the younger girl that is. Even so, she’s not sure if she wants to unpack her reasoning for never going home yet.

“Nope,” she answers the question simply, hoping Beca will just take the answer and let the topic drop.

She knew she wasn’t going to be that lucky, because Beca doesn’t care about anyone…anyone but her it seems. Chloe is the only person Beca goes the extra mile for, at least from Chloe’s point of view, that’s how it seems.

“Why?” the question barely surprises her as it come out of Beca’s mouth, her breath leaving a puff of white in the air.

“It’s a long story,” Chloe tries her best to deflect, but she knows Beca won’t give it up.

Maybe opening up to someone else would feel good. Maybe to weight of her problems would feel a little lighter.

“I’ve got time, we can go get coffee?” Beca looks at her hopefully, “My treat?”

“I thought you were having a movie night with Jesse,” Beca had been talking about it all week, the excitement of a new relationship and all.

That’s another thing that has been making Chloe feel even worse than she does at this time of the year. She had a bad feeling Beca would end up with him…she had a bad feeling she was straight. Chloe loves their friendship, but it just makes everything that much more painful.

“You were literally coming to my dorm to hang anyways, that’s not until later,” Beca laughs.

Chloe’s cheeks burn red, “Oh yea, sorry, blonde moment I guess?”

“You’re not even blonde, you don’t get to use that one.”

Chloe gives Beca a playful shove, “Shut up.”

After another five minutes of walking, they finally end up at the coffee shop. Before Chloe knows it, there’s a steaming hot cup in her hands and Beca looking across the table at her expectantly.

“So now, why don’t you go home for Christmas?” Beca parrots the question from earlier, making Chloe squirm uncomfortably in her seat.

“So, I guess it all really started when my dad died,” Chloe twirls the paper cup in her hands, attempting to channel her nerves into something else.

Beca nods, encouraging her on.

“My mom kind of self-imploded after his death…it started with drinking. It just spiraled from there, drugs, lots of sex with random men. It made all four years of high school miserable for me,” Chloe can feel tears threating to spill, she never talks about this, “after my first Christmas back home in college I vowed to never go back until she got her shit together.”

A hand reaches across the table to settle over her own. Chloe looks up into Beca’s eyes, which are sad and empathetic. It makes her feel comfortable, grounded, Beca’s hand against her own. Her fingers twitch underneath the touch, she never wants to break the contact.

“I’m so sorry Chloe,” Beca says softly, “that must be really hard…so I take it she’s still pretty bad?”

Chloe nods slowly, “Uh yea, I’ve tried to get her to go to rehab but she won’t listen, I’m worried she never will.”

“I know this is nothing compared to what you dealt with,” Beca looks vulnerable as she speaks, “but high school was really rough for me too. My parents got a divorce and my dad married my now step monster. I felt so betrayed, I felt like nothing would ever be right again. I felt like my dad was giving up on me.”

“I’m glad you shared that,” Chloe turns her hand so it’s holding Beca’s instead of lying limply below hers, “I’m glad I’m not the only one with a shitty story.”

“I mean you definitely win if we’re comparing, but yea, it was nothing to write home about,” Beca smirks.

Beca finally pulls her hand away and Chloe instantly misses her touch. She quickly moves her hand back to her cup, lifting it to her mouth, not wanting Beca to know how much the little contact affected her.

“Do you want to come home with me for Christmas?” Beca asks after a few moments of silence.

The question practically makes Chloe choke on her latte, “I couldn’t do that Bec. Your family doesn’t even know me.”

“They know of you,” Beca replies nonchalantly, “plus they would love you.”

“So, you’ve talked about me to your family?” Chloe quirks an eyebrow.

It’s Beca’s turn for her cheeks to fade into a light shade of red, “They were asking if I made any friends…so I told them about you.”

“Don’t be embarrassed Beca, I love that you’ve told them about me. If I talked to my mom, she would know about you, because you’re one of the best things about this semester,” Chloe says honestly, hoping the blunt truth doesn’t weird the other girl out.

A smile the size of Texas spreads across Beca’s face. She doesn’t seem sure how to respond, but Chloe knows she probably feels similarly if her expression is to judge.

“Shouldn’t you be asking Jesse to go home with you for Christmas instead of me?” Chloe suddenly remembers Beca’s boyfriend.

Beca shakes her head no, “He has his own family to go home to, plus I’ve only been dating him for a month. I’d much rather have you come with me…especially because I want to save you from having to be here for three weeks.”

“I’ll think about it,” Chloe finally answers Beca’s offer.

She’s going to have to think hard about it, the last time she went home with someone for Christmas…well let’s just say it’s not a fond memory. It was an almost eerily similar situation. She had known Aubrey for one semester and after the blonde found out about her mom, she had invited her home for Christmas. She also needs to remind herself that it was a very different situation all together.

************

December 2009

There’s no hiding the fact that Chloe is scared to go home for Christmas. She’s scared about what she’s going to find. It’s the first time her mom has been alone for that long. Chloe watched out for her more than a teenage daughter should.

She also left on bad terms in the fall.

She could walk into anything really, which is terrifying. Which is why the whole drive back to South Carolina, Chloe is practically shaking with nerves. She probably shouldn’t have loaded up on coffee like she did, the caffeine isn’t helping. Aubrey has called her on and off, offering her support…and the reminder that she can go to Aubrey’s house if it’s too bad. Chloe was determined to make this work though; she didn’t want to run away on her mom completely. Chloe is not a quitter.

About an hour later she finally pulls into the driveway of her mom’s house, the windows are dark even thought the sun set hours ago. That’s already not a good sign. Chloe puts the car into park and takes a deep shaky breath. She gets out of the car after a few moments of composing herself.

She slings her bag over her shoulder and walks up the path to the front door, her hand shakes as she lifts the key to the lock. Chloe pushes the door open slowly, she can hear the TV blaring some infomercial for air tight containers. It’s the only light illuminating the living room. As Choe steps further in the door, she can see her mom’s identical mop of red hair flowing over the arm of the sofa, her hand hanging limply down onto the floor. She can’t make out much else with how dark the room is, the blue-ish light of the TV making everything look a little eerie.

An ice-cold feeling courses through her, her heart rate picking up. Something isn’t right, she can just feel it. Chloe throws her bag down onto the floor and rushes over to the sofa. It barely looks like her chest is moving up and down, her lips look a little blue. Out of the corner of her eye she sees a baggy of pills on the coffee table. Shit. This can’t be happening.

“Mom,” Chloe says firmly, “Mom!”

Nothing.

Chloe kneels down next to her and shakes her vigorously, “MOM.”

Her hands shake as she pulls her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. Her fingers can barely hold still as she dials 911.

The operator is calm and comforting. She walks Chloe through checking to see if her mom’s heart is still beating. She feels like she’s floating through some nightmare as she rips her mom’s shirt open and starts chest compressions. She has no clue how long she hammers into her mom’s chest before the door busts open and the paramedics are pushing her out of the way. Her vision blurs as she finally lets herself cry.

She’s not quite sure how she gets to the hospital. The world finally comes back into focus when a nurse carefully approaches her and asks if there’s anyone that she can call for her.

“Um, my best friend, Aubrey,” her voice sounds foreign to her.

************

When Chloe’s mom finally is stable and back at home, Chloe leaves to go back home with Aubrey. Before she leaves, it isn’t pretty, her and her mom scream and fight, but there is no way she’s ever going to come back home to that again. Chloe gives her a final ultimatum: Go and get some help or I’m done here.

Christmas is miserable, even though Aubrey’s family is warm, inviting and sympathetic. They make her feel like she’s family. Even so, Chloe has never felt more alone. She feels like she has nowhere to go. She has no one to bake her cookies to take back to her dorm or give her a hug that feels like home when she needs it or give her boy (or girl?) advice. She’s all alone and it’s something she’s going to have to get used to.

************

December 2012

“I’ll go home with you,” Chloe offhandedly mentions to Beca as they sit on the bed in Chloe’s room at the Bella house.

Beca’s eyes light up and the chips she was munching on practically fall out of her mouth, “Really?”

Chloe nods, after thinking about it, the idea of having people to spend Christmas with would be really nice. It’s something she hasn’t experienced since Christmas her freshman year.

“I would love to,” Chloe smiles happily at the younger girl next to her.

“That’s awesome!” Beca exclaims, “Oh shit, I’ve got to book the flight like now then.”

“You haven’t done that already?” Chloe looks at her quizzically.

Beca shrugs, “I was waiting to see if you would want to come first.”

“You could have missed out on getting tickets Bec, you shouldn’t have.”

“I know, it’s ok though, I wanted to,” Beca looks down at her phone, which has flight listings to Seattle already displayed, “get your snow boots ready Beale, it’s been chilly out there this year.”

“You know, I’ve only seen snow a couple times in my whole life,” Chloe already feels excited thinking about seeing the fluffy, white precipitation.

Beca’s eyes bug out, “Dude, we are so going sledding.”

For the first time in years, Chloe is starting to feel excited about this time of year. This might be the best Christmas she’s had in a long time…

#bechloe fanfic #pp fanfic #bechloe #my stuff

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lynyrdwrites · 4 years

Text

looked at death (in a tarot card)

This is to fill the bingo square “do you ever think of me” for @klaroline-events. @goldcaught, this is the celebrity AU I was discussing with you. Wrote while listening to “Dying in L.A.” by Panic! At the Disco. You should listen while you read.

Also on AO3. Listen to the song here.

---

It started like this.

She was eighteen. She rode into the city with bright eyes and hopeful heart. She had the whole world in front of her, and she can remember walking down the boulevard, looking at the stars, and thinking that, someday, her name would be there too.

She was eighteen, and someone gave her a fake ID, and it gave her free passage into every bar in town. She needed that passage. You didn't meet the people you needed to meet in daylight at Starbucks. You met them in the dark while bands that were just as hopeful as she was played in the background.

She was nineteen and had just finished her first speaking role - a tiny extra role, but the star of the whole thing was Meryl Streep - and she walked into a bar to celebrate. She had friends, but they had already celebrated that night. So she wanted this celebration to be just for her. The place was all about music, no movie executives to be seen. But on stage?

Caroline had showed up to L.A. with bright eyes and a hopeful heart, and part of her had wanted some of the magic of movies to be real. She had learned in the year since her arrival that wasn't the case, but when her eyes met His? She was a believer again.

His voice was low, and had an underlying accent to it, and she couldn't look away from him. It might have been embarrassing, except he was looking right back, and even though she didn't fully register a word of the song, she felt like it was directed right at him.

In the end, he bought her a drink.

In the end, she went home with him.

In the end... that was the end of her life Pre-Klaus.

---

At twenty-nine, Caroline classified her time in L.A. to two strict categories. Pre-Klaus, and Post-Klaus. There was also During Klaus, two glorious years that she tried not to remember, because...

Just, because. It was easier.

Just like it had been easier to walk away in the end, than to risk staying. Just like it had been easier to agree to date Stefan at twenty-three and stay with him through six years despite relative indifference towards each other.

At least... she thought it had been easier with Stefan.

Until he decided to implode her life by getting caught naked with his brother's wife.

She hadn't been in love with Stefan, had never come close to believing he was in love with her... but she had thought they'd had a certain level of respect for each other. A respect borne out of the fact that they had become Hollywood's It Couple and increased each other's careers exponentially. Separate, they had just been two more pretty and talented people in a city full of people every bit as pretty and talented. As Steroline, they had become the romance of the decade.

It had all been a lie, but it had been a romantic lie that the world around them ate up. And it had gotten them both jobs they might not have gotten otherwise.

All it required, was a bit of respect. All it required was that they keep it in their pants.

Caroline had done it. It hadn't even really been that hard. She'd done passion and messy and she'd walked away from it, because she'd been too young and too new to stand up under the scrutiny it brought her. She'd rather put forward the shining front that no one bothered trying to dig beneath.

And the whole time, Stefan had been screwing his brother's wife. His brother's wife who was one half of Delena, a couple whose popularity might even eclipse Stefan and Caroline's, simply because they'd come from the same home town, and the idea of a childhood romance turned lifelong partnership was difficult to beat.

It was all about the story after all.

And so, Caroline had been in meetings with Stefan and his agent, and her agent, all of them putting forward ideas of how to fix the whole mess. And their consensus seemed to be that Stefan would have a press conference, where Caroline stood bravely and loyally at his side while he announced that he had made a mistake, and they would appreciate privacy while they worked to salvage their relationship.

It was a load of garbage, and Caroline had listened to it and felt empty.

Not angry.

Not sad.

Not even a little annoyed.

She had just felt empty. And then she began to wonder when that had started. Because it hadn't happened immediately Post-Klaus. During that time, she'd sometimes felt so full that she wasn't sure she would ever be able to fully remove him from her. He had indelibly left his mark, and she'd felt broken by it. But at some point, during those seven years, she had become numb.

So she had looked around the table, at the people who were fighting for something she didn't care about. Something she was pretty sure she had never cared about... and suddenly she missed herself at eighteen, bright eyed and full of hope. That girl had felt so much, and it had seemed awful at times, but it had to be infinitely better than this nothingness.

Caroline stood, and without ever once saying a word, she left them all behind. At some point, the constant ring of her phone - Stefan and her agent trying to reach her - got annoying, so she turned it off and just kept walking around the city.

She tried to look at it with the eyes of someone just arriving, to see the promise and hope, but it just seemed... dull. Grey. Like any city on an overcast day, and she couldn't find what it was that had drawn her here so desperately when she was a teenager fresh out of school and fleeing Virginia and dead parents that had never really seemed to want her anyway.

She turned her face away from the clouds and focused on the pavement beneath her feet instead.

She didn't even realize where her feet had taken her, down streets that she had avoided for years, but that she still remembered so well. And then she was there.

It was a little run down compared to the clubs that had become her haunts in the years since that night she planned to celebrate. But the old sign outside had the same name written on it, and when she pushed through the door, the interior was still lit just enough for the mood to be right. It was the middle of the afternoon; the place wouldn't fill up for hours yet, but it had a regular day crowd that came in for food an whatever new band had scored a set on the stage that had created Klaus Mikaelson.

It didn't matter if it was a terrible time - every would be musician wanted to stand on that stage.

She looked to the stage as the first notes of a song that seemed familiar to her began to play.

It was almost a decade earlier, and she was stepping through the doors for the very first time, and she couldn't take her eyes off of him, and the way he owned the stage, even as he played an acoustic set that would never sound quite right anywhere else.

It was almost a decade later, and his gaze still found hers, as if it was that very first time. And she couldn't look away.

She knew the exact length of the song. She had listened to it so many times in the days after their first meeting, and then again throughout the years after they went their separate years, jaded and bitter and still so in love that she couldn't admit to anyone else that she still kept his albums, because it hurt too much just to say his name. It was three minutes and thirty-seven seconds exactly. But here, it would run three minutes and fifty-two seconds, because he liked to add some flourishes.

Even as the last note sounded across the bar, Caroline began to walk towards the bar. She knew the exact stool she had sat on that night. There was a tear in it, one that had been mended, but it was the same rusty red color, and even though she hadn't sat on one of these stools in years, something about it still felt like coming home.

Something about it made everything seem colorful again, even though the dim light of the bar meant it was even darker than it had been outside without the sun.

"Do you ever think of me?"

Those hadn't been the first words he'd ever spoken to her. Those had been "let me get that" and it had turned into... her biggest mistake? Her greatest regret? It had been both and everything in between at different points over the years.

But that had been then, and no matter that she might have felt nineteen again for those few brief moments the song had played, it had been a sweet dream, but nothing more. Years had passed, and this was now.

"Every day," she replied, because even at their worst, they had never lied to each other. They had said cruel, bitter words - but every one of them had been the truth. "Do you ever think of me?"

"I wrote an entire album about you, Love."

"That was five years ago. It won you the Grammy." Caroline hadn't ordered, but the bartender brought her a rye with gingerale. In front of Klaus, he put a glass of water. "That's new."

"That's not," he nodded at her own drink. "But Hank's never forgotten a drink order in his life. If you'd prefer something else, best tell him now. Perhaps a nice pinot."

Caroline took a sip of the rye, and tried to remember when she had ordered it last. It had been years. She had clung to it as the last reminder of a small town life, but somewhere along the way she had discarded that girl entirely. She'd held too many memories, and Caroline had wanted to pretend to be someone else. Someone that had never felt pain before in her life.

Stefan had never complained; he liked that he hadn't had to put any actual work into them.

"I hear there's an engagement in the making," Klaus said after a few beats of silence. "Congratulations."

"Tomorrow, you'll hear that there's a divorce. Maybe. I don't think any of my people have actually talked to Damon or Elena's people." She discarded the straw entirely and drained the glass, then tapped the edge, so Hank would refill it. "He slept with her."

Another long pause, and then, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"No you're not," Caroline replied with an inelegant snort. "I thought honesty was the one place we never went wrong. Things really do change."

She sounded angry. And bitter.

She was angry and bitter.

She should be angry and bitter with Stefan, because he was the one that ruined everything. They'd had a good thing going, and he'd tossed it aside because he couldn't stay away from his brother's wife. But she still felt nothing about that situation.

But Klaus... she'd felt many things for Klaus. Nothing had never been in the cards between them.

"I'm sorry he hurt you," Klaus corrected, and that, Caroline thought, might actually been true.

"He didn't," she replied simply. "I never gave anyone that power. Not after you."

There were so many words unspoken between them. They hadn't been able to say them back then, and now they were stuck in their throats and making them both choke. Or maybe she was the only one choking.

Klaus was just looking at her, the same way he always had.

"I shouldn't have come here," she said as Hank gave her the refill. But she didn't pick it up and toss it back the way she wanted to. Because Klaus still had just water in front of him, and she wasn't sure if she was proud or hurt, and she was afraid of what words she would unleash on him if she had another. "I don't know why I came here."

"Don't you?"

He always smirked at her like that, when he thought she was lying to herself and he knew all the truths in the world. It was a confrontational smirk that had always made her irate.

"Why did you stop drinking?" she shot back with the same confrontational tone.

"Because I didn't stop back then, and I lost you. And when Elijah managed to pull me out of the bottle I was trying to drown myself in, he made me realize that if I ever wanted you again, I would have to pull myself out and face the consequences of what I'd done sober."

Caroline swallowed, and pushed her rye a little further away.

"You never said anything about wanting me back."

"I wrote an entire album. And you never said anything."

She had been with Stefan by then, trying to ignore the album that had been everywhere, because she'd read it as a good-bye letter. To what they once had. In the end, she'd bought it, because ignoring it had been impossible, and Klaus had always had a way with words that spoke to her in ways beyond their relationship.

"If I said I wanted you to take me away," she said slowly, testing each word out carefully as she said it. "What would you do?"

"Where do you want to go?"

It wasn't a direct answer, yet it was. Klaus had never been a pushover in their relationship. There were things he liked to control. He had his preferences. But he'd always taken a sort of glee in giving her her heart's desire.

"Can you take me back to who we were a decade ago?" she asked, heart aching with bittersweet memories. "Give us a do over?"

"Do you think it would change anything?"

No, of course. Because in the end, the issue hadn't been them. It had been the bottle that was always between them, and Klaus had already started down that path before Caroline had ever met him. It made her ache for the boy he had been before they had ever entered each other's orbit.

It made her heart ache for the naive fools they'd been, the ones that had met too late, and because of that never really stood a change. Not with who they'd been, individually and together.

"I miss you," she said at last, and she found herself leaning into his side, his arm wrapping around her waist. How many times had they sat there, just like that? Too many to count. "That's the real answer - do I think of you? Yes, and I miss you."

"You've never been the type to run, Caroline. Not until you've no other options - I know that best. But if you'd let me, I'd stand by you."

"I didn't. Stand by you. You're being too nice, Klaus. You're shitty at being nice."

His chuckle made his chest rumble, and she felt him press a kiss to her hair. Part of her, the jaded part, told her this was just the magic of the bar. That it had swept her back in time, but as soon as they left the bar, the world would be dulled again.

The other part of her, the girl with bright eyes and hope in her heart said that the world was never dull around Klaus. It never had been - and L.A. had always been the city of second chances.

"You would of, had I let you. But I was an ass. I still am. I'm just a sober ass with clearer vision."

And Caroline, who had stopped listening to that dead girl inside of her looked up at Klaus, and she'd done the one thing she hadn't done since the last time she'd been in this exact position. She hoped.

And she took a chance.

"Stand by me, then."

And outside, the sun broke through the clouds, throwing color back into a city that had seemed to be lacking it for far too long.

#Klaroline #kcbingo2020 #goldcaught #Klaroline fic

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hostclubtotallysaidthis · 4 years

Note

🌃🕯🥀 with Kyoya please I love your blog btw ❤️❤️

Memory Prompts | Heavy TW for suicide and suicidal thoughts!!

🕯- A sad memory they would rather forget

Kyoya stood, staring at the wooden door with wide eyes. He didn't know if he should go in, even though he wanted to. His mother was sick and needed rest, she'd lost a lot of blood and stopped breathing. Her brunette hair was messy and greasy, and dark bags lay beneath the eyes that were so much like his.

They were always compared, looks-wise. He was a tiny version of his mother, one of the reasons why she let him keep his hair at shoulder length. He was as pretty as a little girl, as pretty as her, and it made the two of them feel... closer. Even if he went weeks without seeing her, he could just look in the mirror and see the parts of her he was given.

She always seemed to need her rest, but he had to see her now. He came so close to... She almost died, and he wouldn't have said goodbye. He wouldn't be able to hug her, kiss her cheek, and listen to her sing. It felt almost selfish to think of it in those terms, but he loved her so much and he couldn't bear to think of the hole she'd leave in his heart.

Taking hold of his resolve, he pulled open the door and stepped inside the clinical, sterile room. He knew hospital rooms had to be clean, but the smell of antiseptic and iodine was pungent, and paired with something disgustingly stale. It didn't suit her. She loved flowers, and the best perfumes, and silk sheets and... and...

"Baby boy."

Her face and voice were both warm and cotton soft when he finally let his gaze lay on her, sitting up in that awfully uncomfortable bed, but he wasn't fooled into thinking she was alright. Bandages lay thickly around her forearms, and she definitely had stitches. Her eyes were puffy, raw and red, bloodshot from the tears she must have cried when she awoke. His father had explained to him, after all, in more detail than an eight-year-old should know.

She wanted to die and was disappointed she was saved. It hurt. A searing pain wrapped around his heart when he thought about it, that none of them could convince her to stay.

Fighting his own tears, he rushed forward and climbed onto the bed, trying to be careful of the various IVs and wires attached to her slim frame. She didn’t push him away, didn’t tell him that he shouldn’t, simply cradled the back of his head and wove her fingers between the soft, black strands, kisses carefully pressed into his hair.

“It’s okay, baby boy,” She cooed, so sure that she could convince him of that. But she couldn’t, because he knew. He knew since he first saw her bleeding out on the bathroom floor.

She wasn’t okay.

🌃- A time they got to admire the beauty of a city

The suite was painfully impressive, even to a sheltered young boy raised in a mansion his whole life. Several rooms decorated in such a lush and overtly gaudy fashion which honestly disgusted his own sensibilities; a room doesn't need to be gold-gilded to show it was luxurious. He was a much bigger fan of the usual minimalism - monochromatic and glass surfaces gleaming in warm lamplight.

Still, he supposed he'd keep his mouth shut, considering the most likely outrageous cost and the fact that his father was nice enough to bring his youngest with him, opposed to his older brothers. It should be treated as an honour, even if it was simply because the other three children were too busy with their studies.

"Not that he asked me," Fuyumi had grumbled, but didn't elaborate further. She just stuck her nose back in her biology textbook, as if she hadn't uttered a single syllable.

Despite his dislike of the décor, what drew his eye was the view.

Panoramic windows lined the room, the night scenery laying beyond, and Kyoya had never seen Tokyo that beautiful. There were no stars, thanks to the light pollution, but thousands of lights were dotted around the city. Even if loud, bright, obnoxious advertisements made themselves known without a hint of apology, it was somehow captivating. Perhaps it was his lack of familiarity with cityscapes - let alone one like this - due to the Ootori estate having acres of land, but it was so absolutely breath-taking.

All he seemed to be able to do was walk over to the window in a daze, taking in every detail that became clearer the closer he came. His fingertips brushed the cool glass, his breath fogging an almost perfect, white-hued circle; it made the city beyond look even more dreamlike.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" His father finally chimed in, depositing their suitcases by the sofa for the moment, "I hate the room, but this makes it all worth the tackiness of it all. Don't you agree?"

He nodded, not knowing quite what to say, and reached for the window latch, feeling the need for a little fresh air. However, it opened maybe an inch, and was stuck. He tried to force it, but his father merely took a breath.

"There's no point in trying, Kyoya," He stated, "They don't open any further. With wealth like this comes much stress and pressure, and there have been... incidents."

"Like with mum?" He replied without thinking, almost instant, and regretted it as soon as those poorly chosen words left his tongue. His father took a deep breath, and he could see his reflection in the glass, racking a hand through his hair.

“Kyoya, do you know why I took you out here?” He inquired, “I wanted you to… Get away from that for a little while. It’s not good for you.”

He didn’t argue with that. In fact, after their “conversation”, Kyoya didn’t say another word all evening, bombarded by thoughts one certainly shouldn’t utter aloud.

It’s certainly high enough. If I jumped from here, I doubt I’d ever get up again…

🥀- A memory about death and grief

Here he was, soon to disappear and leave behind... What?

Kyoya groaned, all but slamming the bottle of pills on the bathroom counter for what had to be the fifth time that hour, at least. His head couldn't shut up about killing himself, but of course he couldn't do it peacefully and with dignity. That'd be far too much to ask for Kyoya Ootori!

It certainly wasn't the first time his consideration to end it all took him to the bathroom, but it was the first time he held the sedatives in his hand, summoning the will to swallow them all. They weren't a painless death - far from - but it was convenient. Slitting wrists and throats had to have a certain precision his shaking hands wouldn't be able to muster, drowning tended to have a low success rate, as self-preservation kicks in. With pills, he could swallow them down, and then go take a nap.

While unpleasant to think about, if he aspirated his own vomit, it would at least be quick, as long as he wasn't found.

But no, all of those perfectly reasonable things weren't what were making him hesitant. He'd like to act like the weeping martyr, say how he didn't want to hurt his family, and turn away. Not to get help, of course, because if you truly were the golden-hearted sob story, then your issues would dissolve into thin air and you'd just be happy again.

No, he's hesitant for fully selfish reasons.

Legacy is such an important thing, and what has he accomplished in his thirteen years of yearning? Nothing of note. He doesn't have friends, he's a good student but thoroughly average for an Ootori, no extra curriculars or talents that would make others think "Oh, he's that kid!"

Will the servants set a place for him at the table, before removing the cutlery and continuing their day a little more melancholic? Will his brothers miss him? Will Fuyumi cry over him? Will his father soldier through with his usual stoicism, before finally breaking down in the privacy of his office?

He can't imagine that. He can't imagine any thoughts of him after he walks out of his life. Because why would they? He can't imagine anyone truly caring anymore. He was too sad, too lethargic, too cold. His pretty looks also seemed to slip through his fingers like the dry, brittle strands of hair that fell from his hair. Even the vainest, shallowest of reasons to notice someone had abandoned him. He wouldn't even mind it if he was purely ornamental to someone, not anymore.

He growled deep in his throat, bile creeping up, and his chest was far too tight. He didn't know what he wanted - leave and be unremarkable, or struggle on and suffer. He wanted to rest, to stop fighting for once. Leave the battlefield for new planes.

But no. He couldn't. Not until he could say that people would at least call his death a shame - and mean it. A star turning supernova before imploding.

Yeah, right; like that could ever happen.

#ouran high school host club #OHSHC #Kyoya Ootori #Yoshio Ootori #Kyoka Ootori #suicide tw

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Shattered Glass Epilogue

07/15/2019

Pairing: Tony x Reader, Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,638

Masterpost Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, language, angst, water balloons

A/N: Guys...did you really think that I could just leave the story like that?! lol I had to stop writing because it was 4am when I finished both chapter two and three but there was always going to be an epilogue and one of you guessed what it was kinda going to turn into! Maybe I’m becoming predictable? Either way, I hope you enjoy this final piece of this angsty puzzle. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

You’d always assumed your little slice of heaven would look a certain way.

After losing your parents, all you’d ever wanted was to feel warm and safe. Protected as you had when you were a girl.

For a while that slice of heaven had included Tony. He’d made you feel safe and though he hadn’t meant to make you feel loved too, he had.

It had slipped out in small, tender moments even before you two collided and imploded.

When he'd found you struggling with your ability in a vacant parking lot, drunk off your ass and lifting cars.

He’d shown up like a hero, clad in hot rod red and gold, falling from the sky like some metallic angel.

He caught the third car you'd been about to pile up onto the roof of the bank next door, dropped it, then blasted you with a sonic pulsar boom that sent you flying onto your ass.

You'd groaned and scraped your knee, turning to climb back to your feet where you teetered and then fell back again.

Tony had moved towards you, stepped out of his armor, and then squat down beside you.

He’d pushed back the curtain of hair on your face then sighed when he saw your hazy drunk eyes.

“What are you doing out here, kid?” He'd asked and his voice had been sultry and deep. Comforting.

Like a baby duck you imprinted on him, fell hard in that moment as you stared up into his gorgeously tanned face. His dark eyes peered straight through you, seeing you as the mess you were instead of the menace he’d probably been sent to dispatch.

“Tony Stark?” You'd whimpered at him.

“Come on. Get up. I know just what to do with you.” Just like that he’d plucked you from nothing and given you purpose.

You were part of the team. Untrained. Unfocused. A hazard really. Everyone knew it.

Nat, Wanda, and Vision had attempted to reign your frenetic energy in but they could only help so much.

And your heart; egged on by stolen smiles with Tony on one-on-one lessons on his tech and lingering grazes, skin to skin. Swift deliberate caresses to the back if your head, a stroke of your shoulder. Always accompanied by an array of warm flutters.

The imprint left by Tony Stark was impossible to ignore and it had consumed you.

It ate you up and digested you before spitting you back up in a heap.

If there’s one thing you know now, it’s that Tony Stark never loved you. Not the way you wanted.

You'd been an obsession for him as much as he’d been to you. A broken toy to fix…or break beyond repair which is what it had nearly felt like.

So, you left.

Here in your little house, you tidy your small breakfast table and gather your dishes to wash.

The day is young and the sun streams in through your tall front windows filling the small space with warm golden glitter.

You love the warm swish of your maxi skirt, soft stretchy red cotton, as you settle in front of the sink and get to work.

This consists of you holding onto the edge of the sink. You focus, chewing on your lip as you use your ability to move the soapy brush across the dirty plates. The water running gently, rinsing and washing with only the strength of your mind.

It’s liberating, being gentle. Using your power for something so unlike the night you first received them.

Killing your parents, however inadvertently, still haunts you and you wake up at least once a night from nightmares that strangle you into choked sobs. You wish the memory would fade but it seems emblazoned into your mind and you’ve stopped fighting it.

It takes a lot of your energy to focus on doing menial tasks, but you know it’s necessary. If you want to control it. If you want to reign over what you see as your curse and appreciate it as a part of who you are, then maybe things will get easier.

You spend the morning cleaning, only to dirty a new plate and glass for lunch.

Being lazy from using your ability so much, you opt for the easy sandwich. Nothing fancy. Just enough to take the hunger with a large glass of lemonade.

You take your meal outside to sit in the wicker bench on the right end of your covered porch. Your other wicker seat, angled so that you can sit with your feet up, plate in your lap. With the larger dish of three more sandwiches waiting to be devoured, and your lemonade sitting on the small outdoor table to your right.

As you eat, you shut your eyes and enjoy the sun while it can still reach you here in your sheltered retreat. You observe the small country house you found, investing most of your money earned while still working with the Avengers into purchasing it and the property it sits on. Nestled out of the way, a mile outside of the nearest town so that no one will bother you and you don’t accidentally go scaring any civilians with your powers.

The pink floral print of your cushions makes you happy. You feel the seat beside you, smiling as you chew.

These are the things you look for now. The small bits in your life that can make you smile. If the incident with Tony has taught you anything, it’s that things will always come along to make you happy and other things will always come along to make you sad.

Nothing in life is easy and you’re going to be stressed or worried or angry or sad more often than you are happy, but those happy moments are yours to relish. You know now that you need to make the most of them and let the rest fall away.

Breaking down like you did…that can’t happen again.

Sitting with your eyes shut, you feel the storm before you see it. You smell it before it comes.

The gentle warm breeze that rustles the viridian oaks and cypress that nestle your home in a protective cocoon suddenly gusts, turning gold and chilling. Like the air straight from an AC vent. You open your eyes, take in the suddenly darkening sky—the sun suddenly swallowed by large majestic puffs of fluffy black cloud—and hurry to your feet to clean up before the rain can come.

You head inside, bare feet plopping gently against the weatherproofed wood of your porch and then the shining chocolate brown of your living room. You grab your breakfast tray, clutching it close as you walk and move back out onto the porch.

You nearly scream when you notice someone suddenly standing at the foot of your stairs, but the storm blue hue of his eyes takes your breath away before you can utter a single cry.

He looks too good. Too good to be here, darkening your doorway…or lighting it up, if you’re honest.

With his blonde hair combed back, a blue button-up hugging the not so subtle curves of his biceps, shoulders, and pecs…you’d forgotten how pretty he is. How heartbreakingly beautiful.

You’d been sure that this had passed, this urge to see him, this yearning for those late-night cuddles where he’d chased those pesky nightmares away and kissed you until you couldn’t remember your own name.

Now that you see him, your chest tells you no. You’re not over it. Not over him.

“Hi.” He says, his deep voice making your heart ache so much that you reach up to rub the spot on your white t-shirt over your heart.

“Hi.” You reply, unable to think of anything else to say.

You’re so utterly flabbergasted by his sudden presence, after months of no contact, that your mind stupidly sings the chorus to Dolly Parton’s song, Here You Come Again.

Here you come again,

Looking better than a body has a right to,

And shaking me up so,

That all I really know,

Is here you come again,

And here I go.

No. You don’t need boys. They’re nothing but trouble.

You move for the seat you’d occupied, pushing yourself to ignore him as best you can. You’ll get what he wants out of him and then send him on his way.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” You nearly gasp, finding just enough strength to demand the answer from him somewhat sternly.

Around your house the storm builds, the wind whipping the trees back and forth as the smell of wet earth reaches your nose.

“I…I’ve been looking for you. After you left the way you did, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He admits, and you cringe where he can’t see, placing the tray down to pile on the plates and glass with your back to him.

You pick it back up, balancing it just above your waist as you turn back to look at him.

“Well, I’m okay. As you can see. So…you can go now.” You move past him as he climbs up your stairs, but he doesn’t follow you inside, letting your screen door shut behind you as he lingers just on the other side.

“I-” He stops, you can hear the hesitation in his voice but as you put your tray down, you don’t dare turn to face him.

“Y/N…about what happened the night you left,” He begins.

“It was a mistake?” You ask him, probing despite your better judgement.

Your mind plays those final hours on the compound over again, remembering every sensation, every touch.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve shuts the door, kicking it closed as he hoists you up and you wrap your legs around his waist.

You know it’s wrong. You know that it’s just your sorrow, your grief. You just lost Tony and you’re leaving. You’re abandoning this life to seek out another, abandoning Steve who was only trying to give you some comfort.

A quick hug before you leave but things sparked, and the flame grew too big as his touch lured you in.

He’d kissed your cheek, too close to your mouth and the way his hands felt on your hips, squeezing and pulling in familiar ways.

He’d pulled back to look into your eyes, searching, hoping…then leaned down to kiss you softly. Then harder, hungry but so tenderly that your heart nearly heals itself from his affection.

He’d pulled back again, moaning as you did, and he’d pulled you into his room.

Now, as he tumbles with you towards his bed, you forget that you’re leaving. You forget that Tony just ripped your heart out because Steve is here, and he means more to you than even you’d known. More than you want to admit.

He collapses with you, pushing you up until he has you pinned at the center of his bed. He kisses you as he pulls each piece of your clothes off. Shirt, pants, bra, panties, each article followed with sweet, aching, searing buttery kisses.

Then he’s naked too and he’s inside you, filling you up in ways that only he can.

You don’t compare him to Tony in the moment, but you think about the way Steve makes you feel more cherished, special, almost holy in his worship. He holds you close, not tight, but softly like he’s trying to show you how much he loves you there but also not break you. Skin sliding slick with yours as he pulls you up and lays back to watch you rise and fall on top of him.

You press your hands, so small against his muscles, to his chest and rock your hips against his cock, breathless moans tearing through your throat as you half cry, half whimper.

His hands trace your hips, your sides, he cups your breasts and then moves them down along your stomach until he can help coax your climax faster, rubbing your nub in slow tantalizing circles.

You come undone above him, shaking and trembling then falling against his chest where he holds you and pumps himself into you in four quick thrusts before he releases himself into you, groaning with his climax.

He caresses the back of your head, running one hand along the length of your back and the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion. Emotional. Physical. Mental.

You’re both so tired.

When you wake up, you get dressed, give him one last lingering look, and escape from this life. You escape from the pain of it because while your heart had beat with Steve’s tonight…Tony is still waging his war inside of you. Tearing you apart with his love that can go nowhere. A love that you need to learn to give up before you can have even the slightest chance of moving on.

So, you leave him there in his bed, arms empty, with the love he wants to give you that you don’t deserve.

~~~~~~~~~~

“No.” He nearly growls. “No, it wasn’t.”

You relax a little, sighing.

“Steve, why are you here?” You’d been doing so well but it would be a lie to say that you hadn’t missed him.

Before your jealousy and temper had begun to put a rift between you and the rest of the team, Sam, Wanda, Nat, Vision…all of you had gotten along well. Your love for Tony, your love for Steve. It had all ripped holes in you bringing out the worst parts of you.

Sam had been cruel in many ways but he’d also only had half of the story. Before all of the dramatics, you and Sam had actually been getting along. There was no friendship yet but had your bad sides not been so prevalent, you might have struck up a friendship with Sam. Wanda might have been given the chance to really get to know you, and maybe Nat might have also welcome you more warmly?

You miss the team too, but you don’t belong there, and you know you can’t go back.

“I missed you.” He admits, stealing your breath.

You stand up straight, hesitate…

Finally, you turn to face him and slowly make your way towards him as the sky outside rumbles.

He stares into your eyes, those storm blues drinking in your face as if he literally can’t get enough of seeing it. Is this really what he’s like? Is this Steve in love? You’ll find out shortly.

As you get closer, his eyes wander down, following the flow of your arm, down along your wrist and as you push the screen door open and step back out onto the porch, he takes two steps back as his eyes take in the bump that your tummy has become.

That bump pushes against the stretchy cotton of your skirt, white t-shirt tucked in, so it accentuates the bump a bit more.

Steve’s breathing heavily as the wind whips your skirt around your ankles. You rub your tummy, wary of his reaction and what it might possibly mean. He stares for so long, blinking and trying to piece together what it is he’s seeing.

“How long-?” He asks, stopping because he can’t finish the question for some reason.

“Five months.” You hear the rain start and it pours hard.

It rattles against your roof and then trickles down, falling onto the shoulder of Steve’s shirt.

You move towards him and reach for his forearm, pulling him under the porch fully so that he can avoid getting wet.

Your touch seems to awaken him. He shifts his hand instantly, grasping hold of your wrist and instead of letting you pull him too far under the porch, he pulls you towards him instead. He’s at least not getting wet anymore, but you’re so close to him you can smell the sweetwater of his aftershave, the soft scent of soap from his morning shower. The melon of his shampoo. He smells like Steve and it smells so good.

“Tony’s?” He asks, a clipped question because he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a complete sentence.

You feel the shock in the tremble of his fingers and the see it in the shiver of his eyes.

You shake your head, “I don’t know.”

Steve seems to deflate, mindless running his right hand down along your shoulder to your other wrist as his left continues to hold your right.

“I-I think it’s yours.” You confess, thinking back to those horrible days before you left. “Tony and I had a scare on that mission we went on. He…I took the morning after pill.”

You’ve never told anyone this at it embarrasses you because back then you’d have been happy to be pregnant with Tony’s baby.

For a fleeting moment, you’d been excited. Now you’re only terrified that it is his. That Tony will always be tied to you in that way…you don’t want that.

Steve sighs, it’s weighty. There’s something he’s not saying. “What?”

Steve shakes his head. “No…I don’t want to-”

“Tell me.” You insist, staring up not his beautiful face, now screwed up with that all too familiar disapproving frown.

“Pepper’s pregnant.” He tells you and it’s like you’re punched in the gut.

You shut your eyes, hating the pain that this news gives you. It confirms your suspicions. It had never been about Tony not wanting kids. He just didn’t want them with you.

“Are you sure?” Steve suddenly asks, pulling your wrists up to press them against his chest. “Is the baby mine?”

You blink, startled back into the present and away from those memories that you’ve worked hard to put behind you.

You get what he’s asking but despite your wish to give him an easy answer, the truth is never easy. It never has been for you.

“No.” You shake your head. “The truth is Tony and I started using condoms after what happened on the island and…it could have broken. I wasn’t on birth control so…I think it’s yours Steve.”

You want it to be Steve’s. Even before he’d shown up, it was your deepest wish. “I haven’t been on birth control since you and I broke up and you’re the only man that I’ve slept with without protection, but we can find out. We can test the baby and we can know for sure.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” He asks, suddenly dropping your hands to place his on either side of your belly. “I don’t want to hurt the baby.”

Your heart flutters and melts. Steve. Your inner voice croons.

“Can you ever forgive me for being so stupid? So blind? I’m literally the stupidest person on the planet for not seeing what I had before I gave it up and now…what if it is Tony’s baby?” You panic, voice rising in octave.

Steve reaches down to pull your chin up so that he can look at your worrying face.

“It’s my baby, Y/N.” He tells you, no question or doubt in his mind. “If you’ll let me be here…no matter what…it’s mine.”

And you want to kiss him. You’re relieved and you’re swooning from the sheer gallantry this man is showing you and you seriously hate yourself for doing what you did to him. But you don’t kiss him because what if he’s reacting to the baby? What if he’s doing it because you’re falling to pieces again?

You smile up at him, forcing your hands to push him back a bit but he doesn’t go far. He feels the baby kick in your stomach and he smiles wide, storm blue eyes sparkling as thunder rumbles overhead.

“Come inside. This storm isn’t going anywhere for a while.” It takes every bit of will power you have to turn away from him and move back into the house, but he follows close at your tail, his hand reaching out to stroke the small of your back.

At six months, your belly is rounding out nicely.

Steve hasn’t left since he showed up randomly that day at the cusp of spring.

With birds chirping in the trees and your backyard freshly cut, Steve lets the lawn mower power down as he reaches up to scratch an itchy spot on his forehead.

He’s not sweating but he looks misty. Hot. Gray t-shirt clinging to his torso, jeans sitting pretty on his nice ass.

You smirk as you watch him, waiting with the cold glass of lemonade dripping with condensation balanced at the center of your palm.

He turns to look towards the house and notices you watching, a smile tugging at his lips as he shields his eyes from the sun of the passing morning.

“Is that for me?” He calls to you and you nod before moving down the steps towards him.

“Woah, wait. I’ll come to you.” He fusses, bounding across the law towards you.

When he reaches you, you shake your head. “You know, I could catch myself if I fell. I don’t need a man to help me.”

“Wha-? I’m not a man.” He informs you, taking the glass from you and taking a long gulp. He gasps with delight at the cold sensation of the liquid trailing down his throat. “I’m Captain America. Look, you’re even flying my colors.”

He points at the flag on your back porch and you try not to laugh. “That came with the house.”

“Oh.” He pouts. “Well, you didn’t take it down.”

“Thank you for cutting my grass.” You watch him down the rest of his lemonade and resists the urge to lean in and take a nice long whiff of his sweat misted skin.

Your hormones are crazy right now and jumping Steve seems to be the only thing you can think about lately.

“Of course.” He smiles at you, holding his glass out for you.

“Let it go.” You tell him.

“What? Just drop it?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

He tilts his head, confused, but drops it as you ask, and it floats there in the air between the two of you.

You struggle to hold your concentration with Steve breathing heavily behind you, moving closer and blowing hot air on the back of your neck. His hands come around you from behind, pressing against your stomach to feel for the baby.

This is the only way that he touches you.

You know that he doesn’t know why you won’t pick up where the two of you left off. You know that he wants to, but he’s been respecting your wishes and he hasn’t tried to hug you or kiss you or sneak into your bedroom—no matter how much you wish he freaking would.

But with your baby, he has the perfect excuse to touch you and he takes it as often as he can.

Of course, that doesn’t help with your training and the glass falls, thunking against the ground but thankfully, not breaking.

You sigh, disappointed.

“Maybe you’re doing this all wrong?” He asks.

“How else am I supposed to do it?” You ask him, annoyed with his need to touch your tummy but also greedy for it.

You can hear the amusement he has for your annoyance and he turns you around slowly, releasing you completely once you’re facing him.

“When do you find it easy to control your power?” He wonders.

“When I’m pissed off.” You tell him pointedly. “But…I guess also when I don’t have to think about it too much? Like, when I was the dishes I-”

“I’ve seen you play your little game.” He’s talking of course about the way you try to make music with the brush and the clinking of the plates, forks, and spoons.

You didn’t know he’d been paying attention that closely.

“Well, I’ve noticed you trying to develop your gift and I had an idea. Really, you’ll be doing me a favor.” He tells you, wandering away towards a large basket you hadn’t noticed just by the steps of the porch.

He walks it over to the left side of your yard, puts it down, and then waves you over.

You move to him, hand on your lower back as you carefully avoid the uneven parts of your hard.

“I’ll read up on how to even the yard out.” He says, noticing your careful footing.

“I’m okay.” You insist, but you can see him making a mental note.

As you reach him, you peek into the basket and smile. “Water balloons?”

“It’s really hot.” He tells you. “And after cutting your yard, I could use a cooling off. Assuming you can catch me with those.”

“You want me to use my power to fling water balloons at you?” You ask, incredulous but smiling.

“You not up for it?” He teases and you bite your lower lip.

It takes no effort to get the nearest blue balloon to fly out of the basket.

Steve gasps and rushes off at a slow jog as the water sloshes inside the sheer rubber. You make it zoom after him, but he dodges it easily and laughs as you miss.

“Ooh, missed.” He brags.

You narrow your eye at him.

“Uh-oh.” He says, chuckling as you chuck balloon after balloon at him.

He’s too fast. Too good at dodging and you’ve gone through almost half the basket when he stops with his hands on his knees.

“Give it up, doll face, you’re just no match for my speed.”

Your heart flutters at his old nickname for you, but his taunt pushes you to think slightly outside of the box.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He says, a wide smile spreading over his pearly whites.

You look down at the basket and it takes slightly more effort, but you manage to make all the balloon float up to hover around him.

“Hey!” He complains. “That’s cheating.”

“Dodge this, Rogers.” You taunt and send all of the balloons flying at him at once.

He doesn’t stand a chance of course and doesn’t even try to move from his spot across from you. He’s pelted with balloon after balloon. A cacophony of bursting rubber and splashing water fills the better part of a minute and when he’s no longer being hit, Steve stands, soaked from head to toe.

He gasps and spits, dripping, that t-shirt clinging so very nicely to his form.

“That was not-” As he looks up at you, you send one final red balloon at his face where it bursts with a loud pop.

He spits the water, looking so stupid with his face all scrunched up against the impact that you can’t help but laugh.

“-fair.” He complains, wiping at his face.

He looks up at you, watching you as you struggle to find support while you laugh in loud streaming chuckles. You reach down to cup the bottom of your belly, really belting out the laugh as you replay the look on his face over and over.

“Think that’s funny?” He asks, and you nod.

You laugh until you’re gasping for air and Steve watches you, eyes dazzling in twinkles as he does. His smile slowly fades, and you straighten up, recovering from your fit of laughter because of the serious set of his jaw.

“Steve?” You check, worried that you might have taken this all too far and upset him. “I-Did I hurt you with that last one?”

Your worry seeps through and you rub your belly, taking a step towards him when he suddenly struts towards you with a purposeful gait.

“Steve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

But he sweeps you into his arms, hands holding the sides of your face as he ducks down and meets you in a crushing kiss.

Your knees nearly buckle as the sweep of his kiss steals your breath. Steve is always stealing your breath.

His lips move slow, hungrily, open mouthed kisses where his tongue slides between your lips to deep it. He moans against your lips, satisfied but nowhere near sated.

He’s dripping wet and your skin pimples as he presses his very wet torso against your chest and tummy but you can’t find it in you to mind as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to kiss him just as eagerly as he needs.

It’s minutes before he pulls back, pulling out of a lingering peck only to rest his forehead against yours.

“Choose me.” He begs, eyes shut. One hand wanders down to the side of your tummy and he caresses it lovingly.

“Yes.” You nod, staring up into his face, wishing you’d said yes to him when he first asked you to choose him. “Yes, Steve. I choose you.”

He smiles, so happy you can see the flush of pride on his cheeks. He opens his eyes to meet yours, staring with the pure devotion, the choosing that you’ve been searching for too.

“I love you.” He whispers, and you cry but pull him into another kiss as you once again tell him with just your body how much you really love him.

Steve eventually has to go back to the team, and he promises to come back.

When he leaves the first time, the panicked insecure little girl in you worries and is absolutely sure that Steve won’t return.

He stays away for a week and when he comes back, you’re so relieved you cry.

He holds you close and kisses your tears away then kisses your belly.

You don’t wonder about Steve returning anymore after that first time, but a new wonder begins to sprout in your mind.

The bigger your stomach gets, the more often he comes back. For Steve, leaving the team so often is strange.

“Do the others wonder where you go?” You ask, nestled in against his side, naked bodies covered with your blanket.

Steve’s hands are always on your tummy, especially when he can touch it directly. Skin to skin.

“They’re curious. Let them wonder.” He says, nuzzling into your hair as he drifts off to sleep.

Your heart gives a tiny ache, a deep-seated worry cropping up to poison your heart. Is Steve hiding you again?

This worry follows you into your eighth month of pregnancy. It makes you grumpy and when Steve asks you what’s wrong, you blame your swollen ankles and your aching back.

He convinces you to go back to the compound to give birth to the baby.

He doesn’t trust the local hospital for a possible enhanced baby birth, and you suppose that after nearly nine months away, and with Tony and Pepper now officially married, it’s safe to go back.

You’re not happy as the two of you arrive. It’s late and you’re terrified of running into Tony and Pepper, but Steve assures you that they’re at their new house and don’t come up to the compound as often.

No one is up when you arrive and as soon as you step off of the elevator, F.R.I.D.A.Y. greets Steve with a message.

“Hello, Captain. Welcome back. You too, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” You grumble at her, the late-night arrival not helping with your suspicion that Steve might be trying to get you in here when one is around. Maybe he’ll sneak you out too?

“You okay, baby?” Steve asks, rubbing your aching lower back.

You don’t answer because F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts.

“Captain Rogers, Natasha would like you to bring her the London mission report. She said she forgot to include a few things and would hate for you to file them incomplete.”

Steve sighs. “Damn it, Nat. Quick detour, baby. Come on.”

You don’t want to go to Steve’s office! Your feet are hurting, your back is aching, you’re tired and irritated and you’re still nothing but Steve’s dirty little secret.

Then you reach Steve’s office and as he flicks on the light, your eyes wander over to his desk and find at least fifteen pictures frames, each one holding a picture of you.

Steve doesn’t stop at his desk but instead moves to the filing cabinet on the opposite wall and with his back to you, rifles through files upon files of mission reports.

You waddle over to his desk, reaching for the closest picture and try to remember when he took it. You’re sitting on your sofa, reading a book. There’s another of you cooking. Another of you washing dishes with them floating in front of you and the silliest look of concentration on your face.

There’s one of you and Steve together. That one you remember taking. And another where he’s got you wrapped in his arm as he kisses your cheek. It’s your face over and over again on his desk from all different angles doing various different things but the largest picture, sitting just beside his computer monitor so that a mere tilt of his head might bring you into view, is one of you standing on your porch, hands on your swollen belly. You’re staring down at your baby, a peaceful smile you don’t recognize on your face.

Strong arms wrap themselves around you as slow tears trickle along your cheeks. He’s had you on display here, in his office, for everyone to see this entire time?

“Everyone’s been so eager to see you in person. I told them it wasn’t the right time yet. I don’t want us to move back here when the baby’s born. I want to stay out in our little house. I like us there better.” He tells you, lips pressed loosely against your cheekbone. “Is that okay?”

You shift in his arms, elated because you aren’t his secret.

You’re just his.

“Yes.” You smile. “Hell, yeah it’s okay.”

Two days later, your baby girl is born, and she looks so much like Steve you think your heart will burst.

You and Steve name her Sarah.

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huntertales · 4 years

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Part Two: In For A Penny, In For A Pound. (I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here S09E01)

Episode Summary: The Winchesters are left in a frantic state after the reader collapses, setting off a chain reaction of events with deadly consequences. Out of desperation, Dean sends out a prayer and meets an angel named Ezekiel, both of them make a unorthodox benefiting both parties while the reader fights for her life. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Episode Warning: Heavy angst, mentions of childbirth, stillbirth aftermath, character death(s), hints of depression. Word Count: 6,732.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Dean wasn’t sure what his end goal was here. His focus had been hazy over the past two days, yesterday he was making funeral arrangements. And today he was sending a prayer to any angel who would help. If one was stupid enough to show their faces. Desperate times. All he cared about was getting you back on the mend. No matter what he had to do, he just wanted to reach a point where he could breathe a little easier. Maybe he was being selfish. It wasn’t that he was forgetting about his child. He couldn’t stop thinking about that poor thing. He planned out what life would be like would be like when they got here. He was honestly ready. Sometimes life makes decisions for you. And while it heartbreaking, sometimes that’s just how it was. He wasn’t sure how many times the universe was going to tell him that he wasn’t ever going to have it all.

Sam had no clue what his brother had done. The man was still in the dark about the plan Dean had hatched up after he lost it on the doctor. He wasn’t sure how the younger man was going to react when he told him the news. Sam might have turned his back on him the year before, but the bad blood between them was long gone. The both of them just wanted to see you get better. And knowing his little brother, Sam was probably already thinking of ways to get you back on your feet. Some things never changed. The three of you would do just about anything for each other. Even if it meant trusting something you despised.

Dean leaned against the window frame as he patiently waited for something to happen. His gaze kept jumping up from the floor each time someone passed by the open door to your room. Sam had left to go get some coffee after his brother suggested it. He hoped that an angel would come by while the man was gone. Maybe it would make explaining the plan he made up a little easier to see that they had a friend on their side.

The older Winchester looked up from the spot on the ground he had been staring at for a few minutes when he noticed the door open. He pushed himself off the window ledge he had been leaning against at the sight of someone that wasn't Sam, it was a complete stranger. The sight of her made a sense of hope bloom in his chest. A woman stood in the doorway of your hospital room, someone, who at first glance, seemed like the person of person an angel would possess. She offered the man a kind smile when she noticed the expression on his face.

"Hi. I'm just gonna break the ice." Dean said, jumping straight to the question he had been eager to ask since he sent out that prayer. He had little time to waste. "Are you an angel?"

"Sometimes I wish I were." The woman responded with a quiet chuckle at his peculiar way of greeting her. "My name is Kim Schortz, and I'm a grief counselor here at the hospital."

"Right. Yeah. Uh...Sorry. I'm just tired." Dean felt a little foolish at what he said to a complete stranger. He brushed it off with an excuse about being exhausted. And it was true. He just wanted her to get the hint that he didn't need her. "Well, all due respect, but, uh, I'm not the kind of person who shares my feelings. And I'm not grieving—not yet at least, so—"

"I'm afraid, as hard as it may be, this might be a good time to talk...about the inevitable for your wife." Kim slowly eased the conversation topic most found hard in the situation when a loved one wasn't doing well as they expected. Denial was a tremendous part of grief. She watched as Dean's expression began to change, his body stiffened at the possibility things weren't going to work out for him. "What you are going through...the pain you had to endure. I'm sure there are no words to describe what you're feeling at the moment."

"I don't need your sympathy." Dean nearly hissed at the woman. He tightened his jaw at the reaction she got out of him. He was doing everything in his power to keep his head on straight and focus on what mattered to him.

"You lost your child. You must be hurting." Kim softly spoke to him as if he were a child, in need to be instructed on how to properly handle a situation like this. "It's okay to let your grief show. Whatever you're feeling, just know that it's natural."

"Like I told you, I'm not the sharing type." Dean told her. His tone of voice was cold and harsh, giving her just a brief glimpse into what kind of mindstate he was in at the moment. “And besides, who the hell do you think you are coming in here and telling me how I should feel? Do you want me to cry? Let me tell you something. You have no idea what I'm going through.”

Kim's expression began to change at the attitude he was giving her from offering a safe space to talk to her out in the open. She had dealt with a fair share of parents who had lost a child, whether it be due to stillbirth or a sickness that caused the young child to pass on early. Almost every occasion the parent was broken up inside, the sadness was too unbearable to hide. It demanded to be felt. Either Dean was the master of it, or he was truly in denial about what was going on. He was acting as if he could fix this problem. Yes, miracles happen. She had seen a few people who thought they were in Death's grip get a second chance at life. They were able to walk out of here and enjoy this new opportunity they never thought possible. But that didn't apply to Dean's situation. Miracles were for the living.

Dean understood that his reaction to this situation wasn’t normal. He wanted to tell the woman that he had dealt with grief so many times before in his that to the point where it felt like a second nature. He knew this pain of losing his child, it was nothing he had ever faced before. It felt like a part of him was ripped out from him. That little aspiration he found himself growing when you told him you were pregnant was gone. The little hole in his heart where the pregnancy filled his loneliness, the doubt about things always looking bleak was just that again. Empty, full of pain he was never going to heal from. Every part of him wanted to sit down and admit defeat. But that wasn’t how Winchesters handle grief.

Dean still had just enough sanity to fix this situation. In a sick, twisted way...he was holding out hope that things would end up working out like he planned. An angel would come to heal you. And maybe, by some miracle, they could bring back the child that could have been yours. All of this would have been a distant memory. Dean knew better than setting that as an achievable goal. That was a dream, at best. Sort of like yearning for a normal life. You could get it, until it implodes in your face. Dean was taking his chances on what he could get back, what he thought was the only thing that he could have. He just wanted you back.

“I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just you’re in a fragile state right now.” Kim said. “When people have been in traumatic situations like this, their grief tends to make them do...drastic things. Things that you’ll regret. if that makes sense.”

“If you’re worried that I’m gonna off myself, you can relax.” Dean said. A few seconds after the words came out of his mouth he felt a twinge of guilt at the brunt remark he made. “I’ve been down this road before.”

“Doesn’t matter how many times we lose someone, the pain never gets any easier.” Kim replied, presuming that might be the reason why he was acting like this.

“I’m not grieving for someone who’s not dead.” Dean shot back at her. “Look, I’m sure you’re a nice person and that you mean well, but ‘inevitable’—that’s a fightin’ word where I come from. There’s always a way.”

“And I am a prayerful woman who believes in miracles as much as the next, but I also know how to read an EEG.” Kim said. “And unless you're telling me you have a direct line to those angels that you were looking for—“

“Yeah, no, I, uh... Guess I don't.” Dean was beginning to realize that maybe his plan wasn’t as clever as he thought it was going to be. When one fails, always have another as a backup. “But I might have something better. I got the King of Hell in my trunk.”

Kim was left in a confused state from the words that fell out from the man’s mouth. She watched as he headed out of the room without much more of an explanation. A few seconds later Sam returned from the cafeteria to discover his brother was gone, in his place was a woman he had never met before. Sam continued to hold the two scolding hot cups of coffee and gave the woman a confused expression, wondering who the hell she was.

“My name is Kim. I’m a grief counselor with the hospital. I was just here talking to your brother.” The woman reintroduced herself to the younger Winchester, stating the reason why she was here. Sam noticed how well it went from the sigh that escaped her lips a few seconds later. “He’s a strange man. You should go find him. The things he said...they don’t make any sense.”

“He’s been under a lot of stress the past few days. We both have.” Sam said. He came up with the first excuse that slipped out of his mouth, surprising himself with how he managed to come up with something when he was so tired. “What...exactly did he say to you?”

“Something about angels. And the king of hell? Whatever that means.” She replied. She shook her head, not bothering to try and make sense of the gibberish. “Is that some kind of metaphor?”

Sam’s face dropped at the mention of those two things. Without bothering to give an explanation, he set down the cups of coffee on top of nightstand next to the bed and dashed out of the room, leaving the consular all alone, wondering to herself what must be going through the family’s mind right now to be acting so strange. She turned her head to catch a glimpse of you. A frown found its way on her lips at the sight of you. It was heartbreaking to see someone like this. She wondered to herself if you somehow, by a miracle of modern medicine and Go himself, you pulled through. What kind of pain would be waiting for you.

Dean made it down to the parking garage quick as he possibly could. If angels didn’t want to answer his prayers, so be it. He had the next best thing in his trunk. Crowley was a weeping mess. Dean was sure once he told the demon what went down getting him to make a deal with one of his goons would have been easy. If he had to sell his own soul so you could live, this wouldn’t be the first time he went down that route before. He was willing to take those chances. At this point Dean felt like had proven that he was willing to do just about anything to get you back.

Dean approached the trunk of the Impala as he cautiously looked around the place, wanting to make absolutely sure he was alone from what he was about to do. When it was just himself out in the open, Dean pounded his fist against the trunk a few times, rattling the demon from his solitary.

“Crowley, listen up, you son of a bitch. One for yes, two for no. You alive?” Dean asked the demon. He waited for a second to see if he could get a response. When there was nothing but silence, Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Come on, don't be a pouter.” Finally, Dean felt the metal shake underneath his touch when Crowley responded a moment later. “There you go.”

Right as Dean was about to open the trunk and have a little chat with the demon, someone decided they wanted to go first. Dean felt his body stiffen when he felt something sharp press against the hollow of his throat, and a looming presence behind. He got a clue who it might be when the stranger spoke. “You prayed?”

“Yeah, for help.” Dean replied to the angel.

“Yes. You'll be helping me.” The angel said. It seemed the hunter’s words were lost in translation at what he meant by owing one of them a favor. The angel wanted help first, and he had no intentions of returning the gesture. Dean felt his face roughly hit the trunk when he was slammed down, before he could do anything stupid, the angel pinned him down with a tight grip on the back of his neck. “If you lie to me, Dean Winchester, I will rip your throat out. Where is Castiel?”

“Who's asking?” Dean wondered.

“Try every angel who was ejected from their home.” The angel said.

“Oh. Oh, well, in that case,” Dean thought his sarcastic comebacks were appropriate for the situation he was currently in. “I have no clue.”

Dean’s humor didn’t go over well with the angel. He found himself being roughly lifted and thrown against the hood of the car a few times to show him that there was no room for jokes. The angel was ready to smite the hunter once and for all for the trouble he caused. As he drew up the blade into the air, he was stopped by another stranger,

“Easy there, brother.” Another angel came to the man’s rescue before he could bleed out onto the parking lot ground like the other one wanted. His fellow brother turned around to face a sibling. “This young man has prayed for our assistance. Are we creatures of wrath or compassion? I would argue the latter.”

Giving his fellow brother a sign that his words meant something, the angel lifted his hand up from Dean’s neck and raised it in the air. For a moment it seemed that things might go smoothly this time. But it never did. The angel didn’t want to be kind. He wanted revenge for being thrown out of his home. He punched his brother in the face hard enough to inflict pain, ready to do what needed to be done to get what he wanted. And that was the other angel who was the cause behind all of the madness.

“Come now.” The other angel brushed off the attack as he stood back up. “Is that any way to treat a brother injured in the fall?”

The angel didn’t care about formalities anymore. A fight broke out between brothers when he tried to stab the one who wanted to come in peace. Dean noticed the angel blade fell to the ground while the two of them went at one another. However one angel proved to be stronger than the other when he roughly flung his brother into a minivan parked a few feet away, the impact breaking the glass. Before he could smite his brother, someone was quicker, grabbing the blade from the ground and stabbing the angel in the back, killing him in a blinding light before throwing his lifeless body to the ground. Another Winchester stood with the bloody weapon by his side, coming to his own brother’s rescue after hearing the entire situation go down.

“Who are you?” He questioned him.

“Never mind me. You’re Dean Winchester.” The angel said, still leaning against the minivan as he addressed the older man. “I heard your prayer, and I am here to help.”

The brothers watched as the angel proved how much use he was to them. He slowly sank to the ground and passed out from the injuries he sustained from the fight. Dean was rather amused at what just went down, meanwhile Sam gave his brother a cautious look from the things he heard. The man was planning something behind his back. And knowing Dean, it wasn’t something good.

+ + +

“So were you just gonna stand there the entire time and watch me get my ass kicked?”

“I don't know, Dean. Are you going to tell me what happened back there?”

Sam dropped the unconscious angel to the ground after finding an empty spot in the garage that was abandoned by any strangers. It was a perfect space for what they were about to do. Dean barely said much about the things his little brother overheard, too focused on the lack of back up he was given. Sam roughly snatched the holy oil out from Dean's grip and circled around the angel to make a trap. As he got halfway around, he tossed his older brother an impatient glance, waiting for a response for what the man had done behind his back.

Sam had every right to know what his brother was planning. And yet there was a part of him that was feeling like Dean was blocking him out again. Making him reflect back on how their dynamic was after being reunited after Dean came back from purgatory. The distrust his brother had the anger for what he didn't do. He wondered if it happened again. He failed his brother when he trusted him the most with something far more important than his own life.

"Look, I take the full blame for what happened back at the church. I do." Sam decided it was time to clean with the guilt he had been harboring since they got to the hospital. He figured that's what his brother was doing down here. Putting himself in harm's way to save a life. were always selfish dicks, and the only way a demon could revive someone back from the dead was to sell their soul. "Whatever you were trying to do...what deal you were gonna make, I'll do it. All of this is my fault."

"What? I don't blame you. I would never blame you for something like this, man. We didn't know this was gonna happen. None of us did." Dean gave his little brother the honest truth. Never in a million would he have a feeling like that. "If anything, this is my problem. I gotta make things right."

Sam felt his body stiffen as he finished up the circle of holy oil. He hated what he was about to ask, but if he didn't, he feared his brother was about to do something stupid. "What were you planning on doing?"

"I prayed to Cas, hoping he would get his feathery ass down here. And when they didn't work, I sent out an open prayer for any angel dick who would help us. When that didn't work, I was gonna come down here and have Crowley summon one of his goons. Get one of them to spruce Y/N back up." Dean explained his plan was a little too much ease in his voice, like he was telling his brother about how to fix a simple solution. Sam stared at his brother for a few seconds, the look on his face wasn't showing Dean that was agreeing to this plan. "Sammy, you know how these things go. You can't tell me you haven't thought about fixing this."

“’Fixing this’? Dean, do you hear yourself? Y/N’s lying in a hospital bed on the edge of death. You—You…” Sam couldn’t get himself to say the words that made him feel uneasy. He inhaled a deep breath before continuing to speak. “You’re going through a lot right now. Maybe we need to process things. Figure out the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do is getting Y/N better. She would do the same for us. Hell, she has.” Dean didn’t want to hear the speech about letting you go. He couldn’t stomach the idea. He couldn’t think of a life without you. “And as for everything else...It would’ve never worked. It never does. You know that better than anyone.”

“Dean, this wasn’t some kid you looked after for a year. They weren’t some monster you made after you accidentally a bad one night stand. This was our own family. Your flesh and blood. And it’s gone—just like that.” Sam found himself unable to comprehend with how he was handling at everything that went down over the past few days. His brother never liked to show his emotions, but his was too calm for even Sam’s liking. “How can you not care?”

"You don't think I care? Is that what you think? You have no clue what the hell I've been through the past couple of days. You didn’t think it killed me when I had to make the funeral arrangements? Or how painful it was to not hear the baby cry when they delivered them?” Dean threw question after question at his brother, each one growing more painful as his voice grew harder. "I thought that everything might be different for us. I really did. But guess what? It’s not. It never will be.”

Sam felt a pang of regret at the words that came out of his brother's mouth, wishing he never said anything. It was a glimpse into what Dean's mindframe was like after everything that was happening. "’m not cut out to be a father. We’re never gonna get a normal life. This is the life we’ve got and I’m sticking to it. I don’t have anything else grounding me except for you and Y/N. I can’t live without her. And you know you can’t live without her." Dean continued on, not giving his brother a chance to get a word in. “And you really think we could raise a kid? Do you know how screwed up we turned out to be? I can’t do that. I don’t want to be like Dad.”

”You’re not.” Sam said, shaking his head. “You’re nothing like him. You would’ve done a great job. You practically raised me on your own. You looked after Ben and he was okay—”

“That kid nearly died because of me. And you had to shoot Emma. Sam, I’ve looked at his from every single angle. It never works out.” Dean argued with his brother. “This is just how it’s gotta be.”

“Do you really want to do that to her?” Sam couldn’t help himself but ask his brother. In that moment he realized the reason why that maybe letting you go wouldn't be so bad. Much as it would hurt, letting you live would be harder. “You’ve been looking at this from your point of view. We always do these kind of things for our benefit. And mostly it’s been okay…but this time it’s different. How do you think she’s gonna feel when she finds out what happened? Do you really think she’s gonna be happy for what we did?”

Dean slowly moved his gaze away from his brother from his question. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a lighter to set the holy oil on fire. Sam hated how his brother got like this. He always tried to ignore the conversation when it veered into a direction that made him look at the consequences of his actions. Or his feelings that he pretended to have. Sam wanted to be the voice of reason here, because that’s what he did. He always had to do the right thing. But there were times that he was selfish in his own ways. More than once he turned his back on his family. Deep down, Sam knew his brother was right about not being able to live without you.

He was so used to the way things were. This family was messed up beyond reason. All of you were too dependent on one another. Your lives were constantly at risk of ending for good. And while each of you put on a strong face that you were ready for death, there was always a part of you that wasn’t. Because everything you cared about life was on here. You still weren’t ready to give up the big fight and let the people you loved feel the grief. All of you lost too many people in your life. You would do anything to keep what you had. And the boys were. They were keeping what they knew, what they thought they could keep.

Sam let the argument between the both of them simmer down when they noticed the angel slowly began to come back around. All though he was weak, he was rendered human as the body he inhabited when he noticed the flaming circle around him, making him trapped. He quickly turned his head to the direction of the voice when the older Winchester spoke.

“You want to help?” Dean asked the angel. “Start with a name.”

“Ezekiel.” The angel responded.

“All right, Ezekiel. How do I know you’re not hunting me or Castiel like the other angels?” The older Winchester asked yet another question.

“Oh, I’m sure there are many more angels who are.” Ezekiel said. “Many more are on their way here, most likely.”

“How do you know that?” Sam wondered, taking everything the angel was saying with a grain of salt.

“You put out an open prayer like that…”

“I must be desperate.” Dean finished what the angel was leading to. From what happened a few days ago he should’ve known that he wasn’t going to be in good standing with them. All of you managed to piss off heaven and hell. Things were looking bleak. The usual way of solving things didn't seem like it was possible, however Ezekial wasn't like his brothers and sisters. If given the chance, he wanted to prove himself to them.

"Believe it or not, some of us still do believe in our mission." Ezekial said. He pushed himself up to his feet as he continued on. "And that means we believe in Castiel...and you."

“You said you were hurt doing the fall.” Dean said.

“I was. Entangling with my brother back there did me no favors.” Ezekial admitted. "But what strength I have left, I offer to you.”

The brothers slowly looked over at one another from the choice they had to make. Dean wasn't exactly feeling confident at the angel's words, Sam wanted to say no to this entire plan. But he knew the older man was right in a twisted kind of way. Normal lives, no matter the aspect, never worked out in the end. This was how the way things went, how they always did.

+ + +

You weren’t exactly sure if there was any words that could describe the feelings you had at the moment. You and Bobby walked through the forest as you went on the path, not exactly sure where it was leading you. Part of you wanted to fight and keep going on with life. Because you knew what was waiting for you on the surface. The boys, a world out there with so many things you loved. And yet...another part of you felt there was nothing else to live for. Six months you spent mentally preparing yourself for a change in your life that you never thought was going to come. You got yourself excited over the thought of being given a chance to create another life with the person you love. To be able to shun away the demons that ruined your life. But all of it went crashing down.

You felt defeated. All of your hard work had turned out to be a waste. You trusted the wrong people. Not only did you put your own life on the line, but the little life you had been carrying for those six months. They had been part of the journey the entire time. What you did to your body they had to endure as well. While you wanted to tell yourself that it would all work out in the end, clearly it didn’t. You would never be able to shake off the guilt of what you had done. You killed your own baby. The innocent creature who depended on you to protect them. And you failed. How could you live knowing they would never be given a proper chance to grow up? Live a life, no matter the danger? You chose their fate for them.

“I want to fight. I do.” You admitted to Bobby. “But it just feel like…”

“Like you got nothing left to swing at? Like you’re punching shadows?” Bobby took a wild guess at where you were going with. You shrugged your shoulders, knowing that was only the tip of the iceberg. There was so much more. “You gotta let go of the fightin’ and scratchin’ and lookin’ for loopholes, ‘cause that ain’t happen’.”

“So, what?” You asked him. “I just die?”

“‘Just die’? All the good you’ve done, all the people you’ve saved, all the sacrifices you’ve made? You saved the world, kid. Much as you don’t think so, you did. How many people can say that? How many people can say that they said 'screw you' to the devil and left this God-forsaken hunk of dirt that much of a better place? What you call dyin’ I call leaving a legacy. " Bobby raised some good points that made you reflect on your choice you had to make. While it was better to end on a good note, you still weren’t sure. You still had people up there who needed you. “The boys will be fine. And you won’t be up alone up there.”

"Soulmates share a heaven. I know." You said, remembering back to the case you had worked on what felt like a decade ago. A smile tugged at the lips when you remembered learning about how you and Dean were soulmates. And how one day the both of you might be together forever in peaceful harmony. "But I can't just abandon them, Bobby."

“I wasn’t talking about Dean.” Bobby said. You furrowed your brow slightly from where this conversation was going. “Come on. We’re almost there. There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

+ + +

Dean watched as Ezekiel stood over your bed, assessing the damage that was done to your body. There was only so much the human eye could see. He placed a hand on your upper chest to take a deeper look inside. Sam watched as the angel took a moment to figure out what needed to be done in order to fix you. Cas had warned you that the damage to your body while you were still doing the trials was irreversible from his own abilities. He wasn’t sure what Ezekiel could do to help. But he gave the angel the benefit of the doubt, he wanted to help. So he was going to let him.

“You still able to cure things after the fall?” Sam asked the angel.

“Yes, I should be, but…” Ezekial continued to observe what little strength you had left. It was far worse than he imagined it to be. "She's so weak."

Dean forced himself to believe those words were something positive. You were still holding on in there, clawing your way at life like you always did. His attention drifted away from you when he heard his phone going off. Pulling it out from his pocket, he noticed it was from a number he didn't recognize before answering. "Who is this?"

“Dean.” The voice on the other end was one he was familiar with, someone he had been trying to reach just an hour ago.

Sam turned his head and gave his brother a confused look at who he was talking to. Dean mumbled the name of a familiar angel before slipping out of the room and out into the hall. "Cas, what the hell's going on?"

“Metatron tricked me. It wasn’t angel trials. It was a spell.” Cas came clean with the truth about what the man had participated in after the angel asked for his help. “I wanted you to know.”

“Okay. That’s great, but we’ve got ourselves a problem.” Dean said. The angel could hear the change in the man’s voice, leading him to ask what was wrong. There was a small pause between the both of them as Dean wandered over to a quiet space in the hall that was near a window. “Y/N. She’s, um—they say she’s dying.”

“What happened?” Cas asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, at first she was okay, and then she wasn’t.” Dean said, giving the angel an update on the things that he missed out on. “Have you heard my prayers? Sam and I have been praying to you for two days straight.”

“Dean, Metatron—he—he too my grace.” Cas delivered some unfortunate news that didn’t help the stressful situation Dean was already in. The older Wincester was taken aback from hearing, however the angel reassured him. “Don’t worry about me. What are you doing for Y/N?”

“Uh, everything I can.”Dean said. “There’s actually another angel in there working on her right now.”

“What other angel?” Cas asked.

“Uh, his name is Ezekiel.” Dean answered. “He’s cool. I mean, I think he is. Sam’s in the room with him, making sure he won’t do anything stupid.”

“Ezekial. Yes. He’s a good soldier.” Cas said. It gave Dean some hope that the angel was worth trusting. “He should be able to help until I get there.”

“Wait, no, no, no. No, hey, that’s not an option.” Dean shot down the idea. The angel knew the trip might take a few days, but that wasn’t what the man was worried about. “Hey, Cas, listen to me. There are angels out there, okay? And they’re looking for you, and they’re pissed.”

“Not all of them, Dean.” Cas said. “Some of them are looking for direction. Some are just lost.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked.

“I met one.” Cas said. “I think I can help her, Dean.”

“No, Cas. I know you want to help, okay? I do, but helping angels is what got you in trouble in the first place. Now, I’m begging you—for once, look out for yourself.” Dean gave the angel some advice he desperately hoped he would take. “Until we figure out what the hell is going on, trust nobody.”

“And do what?” The angel questioned him. “Just abandon them all?”

“Damn it, Cas. You hearing yourself? There’s a war on, and it’s on you. There’s thousands of them out th—you said you lost your grace, right? That means you’re human.” Dean didn’t have time to talk to the angel about what he needed to do. “That means you bleed and you eat and you sleep and all the things you never had to worry about before.”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Cas tried to reassure him.

However it seemed the pissed off angels Dean he was warning about might have been closer than he realized. He felt the ground beneath his feet began to shake, in mere seconds, the entire building began to tremble. “I think we got more company.” Dean told the angel on the other line. “Look, get your ass to the bunker alone. You hear me?”

There was no wiggle room for the angel to negotiate about bringing friends along. Dean ended the call and got back to your room to figure out what was going on. He noticed Ezekial was peering out the window to see if he might be able to catch a glimpse of a sibling.

“One of yours?” Dean asked the angel.

“Trying to secure a vessel.” He said. “We need to move.”

“No, no.” Sam shot down the angel’s idea. “If we move her, she dies.”

“If we stay, we could all die.” Ezekial warned.

Dean knew there was one way to keep out unwanted company. He went over to the white board and grabbed a marker. He went up to a blank wall and began to draw out a symbol that would ward out any angel from coming in. When Sam figured out what his brother was doing, he grabbed the other marker, both of them worked together to cover every space on the wall with every sigil they knew that worked against angels.

“Long as these are up, no angels are coming in.” Dean said, throwing the marker across the room with little care where it ended up. “No one’s coming out. You gonna be okay with these?”

“I’ll manage.” Ezekial reassured the brothers. He fell silent for a moment as he glanced around the room, picking up a shift in the atmosphere they couldn’t feel. “They’re here.”

“Okay. Do not open this door for anybody but me and Sam.” Dean instructed to the angel. He made his way over to the door and placed his hand on the knob, but before he left, he gave Ezekial one more command. “Save her, you hear me?”

The boys made their way outside into the hall where chaos among the hospital staff and patients began to unravel. There was little time before things got even worse, they needed to get everybody out before it did. Windows began exploding when they started running down the hall as the high pitched noise began to grow painfully louder. Dean managed to cover his face from the flying debris as he watched people scurrying around for an exit. Knowing there was one way for sure to evaluate the building, Dean raced over to a fire alarm and pulled the trigger, letting a warning bell drown out the other noise.

“Everybody out!” Dean shouted out at the bystanders. “Now!”

Nobody questioned his authority as he watched people tried to get out before things got worse. Sam made his way over to the small crowd to make sure they escaped safely while Dean lingered behind for a moment, scanning the rest of the hallway to see if there was any lingering bystanders. However he found himself shield his body from more glass when another window broke behind him, warning him that trouble was getting closer.

When he recovered and brushed off the rest of the glass, Dean began to walk around the halls, wanting to make sure he got everyone out as Sam ushered a group of people to a fire exit. Dean headed over to the nurses’ station to see Kim from earlier was lying on the ground face down covered in glass. He made his way over to her and crouched down to help the woman up to her feet.

“Hey. You got to get out of here. Come on. Come on.” He told the woman. Kim dusted off the glass and safely got back up. The both of them managed to take a few steps before Dean found himself facing trouble. An angel holding a blade was blocking his way from going anywhere. Dean looked over his shoulder and to the woman. “Stay behind him.”

If the angel wanted to fight, Dean was already for one. He pulled out his own blade from inside his jacket and got ready to make the first move, however he seemed to fail to realize that the fight was two against one. Kim managed to knock the blade out from Dean’s grip and twist the man around so he was facing her. Before he could do anything, she grabbed him by his throat, lifting the man up so his feet were dangling in the air.

“Or not.” She replied to his command. “Oh, Dean Winchester. You and your brother are in a world of trouble.”

[Next Part]

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missroseleigh · 5 years

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reddie fic recs

Since the Reddie fandom is currently imploding and we are all rapidly descending into madness, I thought it would only make sense for me to compile a list of my favorite Reddie fic to act as a balm in the days leading up to It: Chapter 2. Enjoy!

Growing Up A Loser by Sarah_Vincent1506

Aging-Up Fic involving the Loser's Club. Mostly the core four (Bill, Stan, Richie, Eddie). Begins right after the end of the 2017 film, and is mostly based on that, with hints to the book and maybe the mini-series. Reddie and Stenbrough, basically, with some drama in-between but probably a happy ending that doesn't involve certain characters forgetting each other and/or dying because I can't deal. Warning: This will be Gay as Shit.

This fic is absolutely gorgeous. The characterizations are spot on, the individual story lines are perfect, and the writing is stunningly beautiful. Even though Reddie isn’t the main focus of this story (though it is a major aspect), the other characters/relationships are just as enjoyable to read. This work is a WIP, but I would still 100% encourage you to dive head first into this brilliant story. Features Benverly and Stenbrough

wonder violet by belby

"Right." Eddie's not sure what to think. "Well, thanks, for sticking up for me." Eddie's also not sure if he means that, but it feels like something he should say.

"Yeah, 'course," Richie replies. "You're my sister's best friend."

This is an AU about Eddie befriending an older Richie’s sister and how their Friendship By Association develops into an actual relationship. This story is very angsty one moment, but very sweet and fluffy the next. Features jealous!Richie and oblivious!Eddie.

tear it with your teeth by belby

"We could leave this place, Eddie," Richie says. "God, imagine that? Not having to live in this trash dump anymore. We could go wherever we wanted. A different place every night."

Just...read this. Read it right now.

Sweet Sacrifice by Drindalis

A slick yellow raincoat clad bundle of tears slammed into Stan's chest and he gave an oof as the wind was knocked out of him, sending him tumbling back against the wall of the sewers.

"St-Stan, it's cold and dark and scary down here, I-I found Eddie but he won't wake up, an' I wanna go home, where's Billy!?"

The Turtle used the last of its power to revive the three people who matter the most to the Loser's Club, activating upon It's physical demise; Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Georgie Denbrough.

This fic is long--it currently has 86 chapters and 170,361 words. Just like Growing Up A Loser, Reddie isn’t the main focus of this story but that doesn’t detract from it at all. The premise of this story is very interesting and is executed perfectly. Richie and Eddie are so madly in love that it’s equal parts sweet and heartbreaking. Features Benverly and Stenbrough

Scream Hello by gilded_iris

Eddie Kaspbrak is thirty-eight years old. His hair is thinning in the back, his hands are constantly dry from the antibacterial soap he uses, and his gums are receding after a lifetime of over-brushing his teeth. For the past few years, he's been wearing a pair of rimless spectacles that sit handsomely on his delicate nose. Despite being unable to exercise, he keeps a tidy figure. He is attractive enough, although not overtly so. He is short. Meek. Anxious. Tired. Most of all, Eddie hates his life.

It's twenty-five years after the Losers Club confronted It. Eddie is the owner of a luxury car service and is married to Myra, a clone of his mother. His memories of Derry are jumbled and suppressed. Then, one day, a certain ghost from his past gets into the back of his car.

This fic revolves around Richie and Eddie reuniting 2 years before the final confrontation with It, and I believe that author gilded_iris dealt with the fascinating premise wonderfully. It is funny, sad, sweet, and basically everything you would want in a Reddie fic.

the years go by like days by georgiestauffenberg

It’s Eddie he wants to get a hold of, though, and he does, tucking him under his arm, and ruffling his hair, making him laugh. He’s startled when Eddie looks at him with such happy, shining eyes. And, for a split-second, he’s tempted to kiss him right then, right there in front of everyone.

He wants to. Badly. He doesn’t.

He leans in, instead, and he smacks a loud, wet kiss to Eddie’s cheek, punctuating it with a “mwah!” He does it again and again. “I’m so proud of my little Eds Spagheds!”

“Get off me!” Eddie says, laughing and shoving him away, swatting at his hands.

AU. in the 27 years in-between, Richie and Eddie forget a lot, but they don't forget each other.

Richie and Eddie leave Derry and build a live together in the years leading up to the final confrontation with It. Equal parts charming and devastating, as most of the fics on this list are, and one of my all-time favorites.

Wishes by striclyamess

It's one thing to vacation at the Happiest Place on Earth with all your friends.

Working there with them is another thing entirely.

(or: the Disney World Employee/Cast Member AU written by a former Disney World Cast Member that some people asked for but most did not)

This fic is incredibly special, from it’s wonderfully accurate characterizations to the Disney magic woven into the structure of the story. It is incredibly charming and sweet, and definitely worth a read. Features Benverly and Stanlonbrough

I hope these fics were enough to calm your Feral Reddie Vibes until the actual movie comes out!! If you are interested in more recs (cause let’s me honest, I have many) please let me know and I will provide!!

#reddie #fic recs #eddie kasbrack #richie tozier

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komorebirei · 5 years

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The Water Was Never Afraid - Chapter 20: Kettle

(AO3)

“I was wondering if you’d come by.” Marinette closed her sketchbook and straightened up, crossing her legs like a pretzel in her lawn chair.

Chat Noir found it incredibly cute how she could still fit comfortably in the chair, sitting in such a childish way.

“We’re becoming good friends now, aren’t we, Chaton?” Marinette grinned.

“The best of friends.” He winked and flashed a winning smile, hoping to make her blush… she didn’t. Ah well, worth a try. “By the way, how’s learning the piano going?”

“Heh… not going, really. I’ve been busy with work lately, so I haven’t had time to practice. And I’m not taking lessons or anything, so… still as lame as ever.”

“Don’t sweat it, Princess.” He perked up as an idea hit him. “Hey, how about I play for you?” That was a friendly, non-flirty thing to do. His guilty conscience could be okay with that.

Marinette quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say you couldn’t?”

“Not while transformed.” Chat tilted his head, chasing a wink with his cutest kitty smile as he let the implication set in.

“Chat Noir…” She leveled him with a warning look that reminded him of the way Ladybug got when he pushed the line with their identities.

Chat laughed off her seriousness. “C’mon, Princess, don’t be like that. You think I’m trying to reveal myself to you? I know better than to play with fire. We’ve got eyelids for a reason. Go ahead, make yourself comfortable on the couch and close your eyes.”

She tapped her lips with a finger and hummed, feigning deep deliberation. “I don’t know, Chat… seems a little risky.”

“What’s risky about it? You’ll be nice and safe on the couch, temptation-free. Unless I’m so good that you can’t resist taking a peek.” He grinned his trademark Chat Noir grin, more wolfish than catlike.

Marinette shot him a look that could curdle milk.

Chat deflated. “Okay, you’re a warrior princess—I respect you. I know you’d never cave and look. That’s why I trust you!”

Marinette’s expression was still dubious, but her lips quirked up at the corners, showing that her resolve was crumbling.

Chat gave another push. “Don’t you want to hear me play? I’m willing to bet you will love these songs I have in store for you.”

“… All right, fine, you win. I really do want to hear you play.” With a smile, she stood up and unlatched the door, holding it open for him. “After you, Minou. No funny business.”

“Thank you, Princess!” He bounded inside excitedly. He knew Marinette would be squealing in minutes. He slid into the piano bench as Marinette followed him in and settled into the couch. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Ready—Wait, hold on. Let me heat water for tea.”

“Go ahead.”

While Marinette put on the kettle, Chat Noir ghosted his fingers on the keys, brushing up his memory.

“Okay, you can detransform.”

Chat glanced over and took in a side-view of Marinette curled up on the couch, sunken into the cushions, her lips peacefully upturned.

“Don’t do anything shocking,” she warned. “I might accidentally look.”

“The only thing that would shock you is how stunningly handsome I am,” Chat joked.

“Don’t make this hard for me,” Marinette teased back.

He blushed, abandoning the sinking ship.

He realized he felt very nervous. He was about to detransform in front of Marinette. There would be nothing but two paper-thin layers of skin separating this moment from the utter chaos of Marinette finding out it had been Adrien Agreste, her boss’s son and a taken man, visiting her home all along.

Terror clawed at his chest, and he was about to call it off, when Marinette called out quietly, “Minou?”

He took a deep breath and glanced at her, waiting patiently with her eyes closed, her forehead furrowed with concern due to his lack of response. She had felt reservations about doing this, but she trusted him enough to let him. He decided that he trusted her.

“Claws in.”

As the magic left him, materializing in the form of a tiny floating cat beside him, and the world didn’t implode, a mad grin swept across Adrien’s face.

Plagg shot a questioning look between him and Marinette.

“All in good fun,” Adrien assured him quietly. Yes—this was fun, not terrifying. “Marinette knows about kwamis, so you don’t have to be too subtle.”

Letting a momentary silence clear the air in preparation for the music, Adrien pressed the opening jazz chords of the first number, butter-smooth. Since the style was different from the original arrangement, it took a moment for Marinette to recognize what he was playing, but her reaction betrayed the exact moment when she did.

“Oh my gosh, Minou!!!” Marinette squealed, sitting up in excitement with her eyes still closed.

Adrien smirked. He had expected this reaction. He knew her favorite Ghibli films and which songs she played on repeat while stitching for hours.

“Merry Go Round of Life—a jazz version? I love it!! You’ve watched Howl’s Moving Castle, Chat?”

“Of course, Princess,” Adrien answered without stopping. I’m the one who recommended it to you, after all. “It’s my favorite. Don’t you think I’m as charming as Howl?”

“Much more charming,” Marinette replied slyly, and Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. “If by charming, you mean over-the-top and ridiculously dramatic.”

He chuckled. “Ah, but Princess, you’re far too kind.”

Marinette snorted and settled back into listening. “The jazz style sounds so cool! You’re really good, Chaton.”

He soaked up the praise, feeling on top of the world. Plagg jumped on the keys, dodging Adrien’s fingers, a game he often played to make his chosen’s practice sessions more fun. Adrien laughed when Plagg was too slow and he felt the odd sensation of his finger going through his kwami.

“Ouch, speared me, kid!” Plagg teased and fell dramatically onto the keyboard, letting the keys buffet his little body, tossing him here and there.

Adrien laughed again at Plagg’s antics.

“Is that your kwami?” Marinette asked. “You guys are cute.”

Plagg flew over to say hello.

The kettle started to whistle.

“Chat,” Marinette nudged.

Right, she couldn’t get up and walk around while he was detransformed.

He stopped playing. “Got it.”

“The tea bags are in the top drawer to the left of the stove… take your pick.”

Adrien switched off the kettle and opened the drawer to find a variety of colorful boxes neatly nestled together like a Tetris board. “And for the Princess?”

“Plum for me, please!”

“And cheese for me!” Plagg piped up.

He found the box labeled ‘Plum Tea’ in Chinese.

“It’s the pink box in the front,” Marinette guided him unnecessarily.

“Found it.” He knew where she kept the mugs, so he took two out of the cabinet, selecting for her the red one he’d seen her use before.

“Ah, and there’s cheese in the fridge.”

There was only Gruyère, but Plagg liked it well enough.

“Just to let you know, my favorite’s Camembert,” Adrien heard Plagg tell Marinette in a stage-whisper. Funny how well they seemed to be getting along. Nothing seemed to faze Marinette. What an admirable girl.

“Which tea did you pick, Chaton?” Marinette asked curiously.

“Plum.” He smiled to himself. “So we can share the experience, to make up for the fact that you can’t see me.”

Marinette snorted. “What a sap.”

Once the tea had finished steeping, he brought the mugs over and placed Marinette’s on the coffee table by her knees. “Careful with your fingers—it’s hot.” He set his own on a round mini-table by the piano, beside a photo of Marinette posing in the bakery with her parents. He missed the bakery.

“Any requests?”

“Finish Howl’s first. It’s my favorite!” Marinette gave him a pleading smile, eyes squeezed shut adorably. “Actually, could you start over? Please?”

“Anything for you, Princess.” He started over.

She listened in contented silence, and Plagg came to dance on the keys some more.

After finishing, she gave him enthusiastic applause. He moved on to another Ghibli jazz number, this time from Spirited Away, smiling at the appreciative noises she made.

In the middle of playing, she stopped him. “Okay, pause.”

“Hmm?”

“Your tea’s getting cold! Why don’t you drink some before you continue?”

“As the Princess wishes.”

He stopped and took a sip. It was pleasantly warm, instead of hot—the perfect temperature to drink. She must have known because hers was that temperature right now, too. Adrien smiled, savoring their shared experience more than the tea.

“How did you know I would like this music?” she asked.

“Just a hunch.”

The transient perfection of this moment—drinking tea with Marinette, the memory of Ghibli jazz lingering in the air like a fragrance—made his heart ache. It was like freshly fallen cherry blossom petals on their last breath before decay. He sighed, watching her eyelids tremble with the effort to stay shut.

This moment didn’t belong to him, Adrien Agreste. It belonged to Chat Noir. Chat Noir, who could be anybody. Or nobody.

He could run into Marinette at the office tomorrow. Unlikely, but possible. If he did, she’d give him her usual professional greeting, and the same smile she gave everyone.

That thought felt like a punch to the stomach.

He placed his hands on the keys and started to play again, shifting his mind away from these distressing thoughts. The chill, whimsical notes that filled the air seemed laced with melancholy this time. Maybe only in his own ears, though.

As he played, he watched her longingly. She and Plagg were talking in voices too low for him to overhear over the piano. A sad smile tugged his lips when she doubled over, giggling. The pain settled deeper into his chest, the longer the moment wore on.

“Want to watch one together when you’re done, Chat?” Marinette asked in a small voice.

“‘Watch one’?” He stopped playing and stared at her incredulously. “A Ghibli film?”

“Yeah, whichever one you want—I have the collection. You put me in the mood.”

His chest warmed. Marinette hadn’t watched any Ghibli films before he introduced them to her, and now she loved them enough that she had the whole collection? He counted this as a conquest, as proof that they were two peas in a pod.

There was work waiting for him at home, but nothing he minded losing sleep over if it meant a couple more hours basking in Marinette’s presence. “I’d love to, Princess. How about now?”

“One more song, please?”

“How could I refuse?”

He played one last, an upbeat, jazzy version of the Totoro opening theme song. Marinette wiggled her shoulders in a playful accompanying dance, Plagg doing the same in the airspace around her.

Cute.

Smiling at her fondly, he beckoned Plagg and called his transformation back on.

“Open your eyes, Princess.”

When Marinette opened her eyes, she was bursting with glee and enthusiasm to convince Chat Noir of his talents. “Chat, you’re amazing! I can’t believe you play so well.”

He gave her a lopsided smile. “Only because a beautiful girl was listening.”

This time, she did blush, which did something to soothe the ache in Chat Noir’s chest.

“Want to watch Howl’s Moving Castle?” Marinette asked. “You said it’s your favorite, right? Or—whichever one you want.”

“Sure. But next time, Kiki’s Delivery Service. It’s about you and me.” He winked. “Though, honestly, Jiji acts more like Plagg.”

Marinette laughed. “You got it, Minou.”

Next time—the words echoed in Chat Noir’s mind like a dangerously enticing promise.

How had they fallen into this?

—

In the middle of the film, Marinette suddenly slid an arm behind Chat’s back and draped her other arm across his stomach, nestling her head in the dip between his shoulder and chest.

Melting against her, Chat wrapped his arm around her. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for my charms, Princess,” he joked, the line falling from his lips as naturally as an exhalation. He barely even felt guilty for flirting with her anymore. It was inevitable. She was irresistible.

“This is your hug of the day.” Her voice sounded more serious than he would have expected. “I can tell when you’re sad, Minou.”

“Wow, Princess. Are you sure you don’t have super powers?” He tightened his grip and rested the corner of his mouth on her head, inhaling her scent—rose shampoo and something sweetly Marinette—wishing to press a kiss to her hair if that weren’t crossing the line.

Marinette didn’t answer, but she hugged him tighter, taking his response as confirmation that he was feeling down.

They stayed like that for the rest of the movie, then Chat Noir went home, feeling like a moth whose wings had been crippled by the flame.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Marichat #Adrienette #Adrigami #The Water Was Never Afraid #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Cat Noir

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lukin08 · 5 years

Text

Hindsight

Happy Holidays @frenzy5150! I’m your secret Santa! Two years in a row now! Since you are all around awesome and you also just celebrated a birthday, I decided to do something a little different. First you get a two parter- one for your bday and one for Christmas. Second, I went out on a limb a bit and went a different direction than I’m used to. This is kind of sorta inspired by a show I watched with the same name maybe five years ago. I hope you like it! Part 2 will be up later in the week.

Part 2 HERE

Modern AU

Rating: T

Words: 4600

If you could go back and change one thing about your life, one decision, one answer, one mistake, what would you do? Knowing everything you know now, would you make the same choice and somehow get it right this time? Or would you start over?

The question was at the tip of her conscience as she flipped through the pages. She looked so happy. They both did. Her wedding. Her first one. With the exception of her sister, no one would have guessed on that day how her marriage would implode on itself. You married the wrong person, she thought to herself.

Almost twenty years later, Anna still thought about that day. Her first husband, Harry, and she had been so in love. Or that’s what she had told herself. They were definitely crazy. …and impulsive. And so stupid!

Anna closed the album with a sigh and walked over to the closet to tuck it safely on the shelf. The best place for it now, she decided, was under other stacks of photo albums and scrapbooks she had collected over the first twenty years of her life when she had occupied this room. She never brought them with her when she moved out. All the digital files were with her, but she had still wanted to print them all out. There was something permanent with pictures in a book. Maybe she was old fashioned, but she preferred to look at them this way. With the exception of one wedding album that joined the stack a long time ago, none of them ever left. Anna preferred the nostalgia of being able to sneak in every so often and steal a glimpse of her past.

The layers of photos and books heaved as she tried to lift up the bottom. Anna rammed the album in only for the entire pile to shift to the right and begin to tip. If it hadn’t been for the box of books stored next to them, the entire thing would have come down on top of her. The albums came to an abrupt stop, sending several pictures fluttering down to the floor.

She quickly picked them up and went to stuff them back in one of the pages. But something stopped her when she glanced at the photos. Those eyes were staring back at her. Young and hopeful and without the sadness they carried the last time she had looked into them. She slowly flipped through the others. They were all pictures of the summer she spent that summer at her parent’s lake house and it was her favorite memory.

There were two of her and Elsa. Both smiling and making faces at the camera. It was easy to forget over the years how close they had once been. The rest were of friends including another picture she stopped to look at again of the one she considered her best for a very long time. That was the first summer they met and she thought they would be in each other’s lives forever. Incredible how she was wrong about so many things.

“God, I miss you,” she said, running a finger over the photograph.

A spark touched heart for a brief moment before the knock on the door made her jump.

“Anna? We were supposed to leave ten minutes ago.” The door opened as Andrew popped his head in. “Everything okay?”

Anna twisted on the bed and offered a smile. “Yes. Yes! Good. I had a little fight with the closet, but its fine!”

He walked into the room and offered his hand to Anna. “Good. I was beginning to think my fiancée was getting cold feet.”

“Don’t be silly!” Anna wrapped her arms around Andrew. She felt him pull her closer for a moment. Then one arm let go of her as he fumbled in his pocket. When she looked up at him, he had a ridiculous grin on his face.

“What is that?”

“Mistletoe.”

“I know what it is, but why do you have it?”

“Because you and I both know that tonight is going to be crazy and I want one kiss with you alone with no party and no people.”

Anna smiled and reached up to kiss his cheek. “Hold on to that until after the party. I’ve kept us too late already.”

“But I won’t see you after the party.”

“Then we’ll have to find a few minutes to sneak out of it.”

She walked past him and down the hall to the front door. Andrew quickly caught up to her, grabbing her coat and helping Anna into it.

“Are you sure you’re up for this. An engagement and Christmas party all rolled into one?”

“Of course. We are getting married and everyone is in town and its Christmas. What better excuse do we need to host a party?” She winked at him and reached for the door to head out.

----

Okay, you can do this. Just get a drink in your body before you talk to your sister.

Anna strode through the room, keeping ahead of Andrew, smiling and waving to the guests. She found the closest bar and ordered a glass of champagne.

“There’s the blushing bride.”

Anna spun on her heels, setting a pleasant look on her face. “Hi Elsa.”

They gave each other a quick hug, one that would never happen if they were not in the public eye. Elsa gave Anna a once over, not hiding that she was checking to see if Anna was dressed appropriately.

“You look worried.”

“Elsa.”

“Okay, You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. And you look beautifier. Beautiful, I mean. As always.”

Elsa nodded, then turned her gaze to the crowd of people. “Thank you for agreeing to this. Since I couldn’t convince you to pick a more sensible time after the holidays for your engagement party, I think this is the best compromise. I will admit it makes it easier to host the Christmas party and Andrew’s parents run in the same social circles, so co-hosting with them makes sense.”

Anna held in the intense desire to roll her eyes. “That and it’s one less function you have to attend now.”

“An added benefit, yes.”

“Wouldn’t want to make you look bad.”

“That hasn’t seemed to bother you in the last twenty years.”

“Can we not get into that? I just want tonight to go smoothly.”

“Relax. You’ll be fine. You’ve done this before, you know.”

Elsa glided away, greeting a valuable client with her usual diplomacy.

Anna couldn’t resist. She cupped her hand to her mouth and yelled out. “I love you too, Els! Merry Christmas!”

She turned back to the bar and downed her glass. By the time her second was in her hand, Andrew had whisked her away to make the rounds to all the guests. The evening began to blur. Anna found nodding along with Andrew instead of engaging in conversation an easier path for the night. It didn’t help that questions from her boss kept scrolling in and she had to excuse herself to answer them.

“Where do you keep going?” Andrew asked as they walked together during a brief moment alone. Anna could hear the tint of annoyance in his voice.

“It’s Simon. I have to keep helping him for a meeting prep he has tomorrow.”

“You work too much.”

“What else am I supposed to do?’

Andrew sighed and turned to Anna. “Maybe one of these days, you should put your tail between your legs and talk to your sister about working at the company you are partial owner in.”

“That’s never going to happen.”

He smiled that exasperated smile at her. It hit her how genuine he was. How much he loved her. Andrew was the opposite of her first husband in every way. He was sweet, kind, responsible, had a job. But did he set Anna on fire?

She was warm. That had to count for something.

By the time the toasts began, Anna could barely hide the look of despair as her body fought the duel urge to run and stay. You look worried. There was no hiding the truth from Elsa. She had noticed it instantly. Doubt crept into Anna’s thoughts. Was she making the right choice or was this about to be another bad decision in the string of ones that defined her life? Anna yearned for a trusted shoulder to lean on right now. But she didn’t have her sister to talk to and she hadn’t spoken to her best friend in years.

She made it to the bathroom and was able to hide in a stall before full panic took over. This whole engagement was a mistake. It was screaming at her. It was the same warning that she missed before her first marriage. Just get through the holidays. You can deal with it then. Tonight you need to stay calm. Anna took a deep breath, but before she could move, she heard two people walk in.

“You must be so relieved she’s finally settling down. She could probably still have a baby if she froze her eggs.”

It was her cousin. Anna had never gotten along with her and she seethed at hearing her voice.

“Let’s hope this one sticks. Anna’s always been. You know, a little flighty,” Elsa replied

Anna’s mouth dropped at hearing her sister. She had to clamp her hand over her mouth to stop the squeak from leaving her mouth. She peered through the slats in the door to get a view.

“Anna’s been successful in other areas of her life. She does well with her career.”

“Please, she’s a glorified secretary.” Anna’s hand came up to her heart at the harshness of Elsa’s words. “I always thought she’d have a bigger life. You know, do something extraordinary. Or at least something that made her happy. She’s so talented, but she was consumed by that husband… then the job.”

“Anna made her choices. Bad ones, yes. We both told her that her priorities were out of whack. So her first marriage was a disaster. Sometimes it’s better to let people do what they need to do so they can work it out themselves. We’re here now and she’s finally settling down with a nice man.”

“You’re right. I’ve just been worried about her for so long. I won’t dwell on the past. I’ll… I’ll try to be happy for her now.”

The women finished up and headed out. Anna’s cousin spoke again. “Who knows? Maybe Anna will come to her senses and apologize to you and come to work at the company where she belongs. Where family should be.”

The door closed and Anna let it out, punching her fists in the air as hard as she could. Elsa, please see through her bullshit. She’s just trying to get her husband a position at the company. The room was silent and Anna was left with her thoughts of Elsa’s words. It wasn’t a surprise to hear, but they tore at her still.

Anna slipped out of the bathroom and away from the party until she found herself in the front lobby. She needed to talk to someone. But not just anyone. She needed one person that would listen to her, understand and not judge her. She longed for his comfort and how he could pick up her spirits when it seemed the world was collapsing around her. But she had ruined that as well and it cut her down more than anything.

A flash caught her eye, making Anna look up. In the lobby, was a grand Christmas tree all decked out in the finest decorations. Ornaments and garland glittered all the way to the top where it was fitted with a gorgeous star. It took her a second to notice the two girls who were working the party in front of her admiring the tree.

One of them caught her staring at her and elbowed the other. “We’re sorry ma’am.”

Anna shook her head. “Don’t mind me.” She looked back up at the tree. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Both girls smiled back at her. “It’s our last night working before Christmas. We had to get our wishes in.”

Anna tilted her head at them. The other girl added before she could ask. “Some of these decorations from the tree are original to when this hall opened. I don’t know which ones besides the star. But there’s a story that if you make a wish to the star, it will be granted.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try, right?” The other girl added.

The corners of Anna’s mouth turned up. “No. No it doesn’t at all.”

The girls excused themselves. Anna went to go back to the party, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off the tree. “I know what my wish it would be.” She took one last wistful look at it and went back into the party to find Elsa to tell her she was leaving.

It took a few minutes of searching and ducking out of small talk with people to find Elsa. They may have not be close anymore, but Anna was still aware of Elsa’s tricks and hiding spots. After a few tries at more obvious locations, Anna spotted Elsa off in a side room with a bar. It was secluded enough that most of the people didn’t use it and exactly why Elsa requested it stay open every party.

She was half way in the room before she noticed who Elsa was with. She froze in place, unable to move. Her sister sensed her, looked her way while tapping the arm of the person seated next to her. Elsa slipped off her stool and walked towards Anna. For a fleeting moment, her face was soft and she paused to place her hand on Anna’s shoulder.

“Go talk to him,” she whispered. “I’ll cover for you.”

It took some convincing for her feet to move. Anna finally took a hesitant step closer. Then another. And another. He had already turned back to the bar and she watched him take a long draught of his beer. Her hand gripped the back of the stool next to him. She noticed the two other empty bottles sitting off to the side.

“Is…is this seat taken?”

Kristoff huffed and a slight smile brushed over his lips. He glanced at her before looking straight ahead, pulling another swig of his beer.

“It’s your party. I think you can sit wherever you want.”

It probably was the best invitation she would get. She stepped up to the stool, keeping both legs facing him. “It’s really Elsa’s party, we both know that.”

“She’s not here to kick you out the seat, so I guess it’s yours for now.”

The both chuckled, Kristoff stole another glance at her holding her eyes to him. He had aged well, despite everything he had been through. He was smaller than she always remembered him, his hair was short, with just a hint of grey at the temples. It fit him, but Anna missed that mop of hair that she always had to fuss with and yell at him to remember to cut. “Kristoff.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. When he didn’t jump back from her touch, she dared ever so softly to place her hand on top of his that was resting on the bar. She could feel her heart start to race, a surge of energy running through her body. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited, remember.”

There it was. That grin. Suddenly he was twenty-one again and not a day had passed between them.

Anna arched an eyebrow, grinning back. “You’ve been invited to at least the last ten. You’ve never showed up before.”

He shrugged and turned to the bar again. The break in contact, felt like losing him all over. Anna pulled her hand close, her fingers still tingling where they had touched him.

“I was in town. Didn’t have anything else to do. I figured there’d be free food and drinks.”

“Okay Bjorgman. Whatever you say. You sure that’s the only reason?” She bumped her shoulder to his, hoping to keep the mood light.

He didn’t look at her, keeping his beer close to his lips. “Kind of wanted to check in on you, too.”

“And hiding in another room is how you do that?”

“No. I saw you earlier. You were busy talking to…everyone. I decided to hold back and see if I could find you later.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

They fell into an easy rhythm. Anna told Kristoff everything that popped into her head. She talked about work and how busy she was, ignoring the messages from her boss. She talked without a filter and she couldn’t remember how long it had been when she didn’t have to reign in everything she wanted to say.

Kristoff was listening to her and it felt so good to feel significant to someone. He shifted in his seat as if he was studying her.

“Anna, are you okay?”

“What? Of course I am! I’m wonderful. It’s Christmas and I’m getting married.”

“But are you happy?”

“Why do you think I’m not happy?”

“I don’t know. You just seem… not like yourself.”

Anna stiffened at that. “You haven’t seen me in over ten years. You don’t know who I am.”

“I know when something isn’t right with you. That hasn’t changed. I can see right through you. What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” Anna crossed her arms.

“No you’re not.”

“Kristoff, I told you-“

“It’s because you’re about to marry a guy you don’t love and you are absolutely miserable, isn’t it?”

“No!”

He squinted his eyes, leaning closer. “Yeah, that’s it. About to make the same mistake again. Did you not learn anything from your first marriage?”

“How dare you!”

“How dare I what? Call you out on your bullshit? Can’t handle hearing the truth, princess?”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” Anna turned away from him, but she couldn’t stop herself from glaring back at him. When she moved, he looked so smug and satisfied that she saw red.

“Who do you think you are anyway? Waltzing in here after years! What? Did you find out I was engaged and you had to run over here just to try to rub in all my misery? Poke at all my weak spots. Make me feel worse than I already do? Well you did! Are you happy? Why do you care? We aren’t even friends anymore!”

“You made sure of that, didn’t you?”

“You don’t think I don’t feel horrible about that? I do every day, Kristoff! I hate that I wasn’t there for you and that I wouldn’t listen… and… I miss you every day. But you stopped talking to me! And you can’t come here and tell me I’m not happy when you don’t know me anymore.”

“I know you better than you know yourself! Look, forget it. This is pointless. I shouldn’t have come here tonight.” He pulled out his wallet to fish for a tip.

“Kristoff, why did you come here tonight?”

“Why did you invite me?”

They stared each other down. Anna gnawed at her bottom lip unable to take it anymore. “I asked you first.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she struggled to stay in control.

Kristoff sighed. “Because I didn’t try to stop you before.”

“You did. I wouldn’t listen.”

“Look, Anna. You’re right. I don’t know what’s wrong other than you are not happy. I had to come see for myself. And I see you and you have the same look on your face that you did before. I didn’t try to stop you the way I should have last time. I wasn’t honest with you and it wasn’t fair to you. I thought if I showed up this time…that…”

“What?”

He shook his head and laughed to himself. “I never could tell you to no. Ever. No matter what crazy idea got in your head. Even when I watched you marry someone you didn’t love. I couldn’t stand the thought of causing you pain. But I should have then. Or at least I should have figured out when to walk away.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because there never was a time when I wasn’t in love with you.” Kristoff fumbled for something at his legs. “I have to go. I’m sorry Anna. I shouldn’t have come. Forget I was here.”

Anna sat frozen in her chair. She watched as Kristoff carefully slid off the stool and take a measured step with the cane. The memory of his accident flashed in front of her. The doctors said he was lucky to even be alive. Then the guilt washed over her. She hadn’t been there for him. Too wrapped up with Harry to be the friend he needed the most.

He got to the entrance of the room before what he had said sunk in and Anna could move again. She hopped off the stool. “Kristoff… I invited you all these years because it kept the door open the tiniest bit. It was all I had, but there was always hope that I would see you again.”

“I know.” He stopped and dropped his head. “Do not pursue the past. Do not lose yourself in the future. The past no longer is. The future has not come. Look deeply at life as it is.”

“What? Kris, I don’t understand. Please, just stay-“

He looked at her once more and smiled. But it was distant and he took another step away. “It’s a Buddhist Proverb. One of my therapists told it to me when I was rehabbing. I used it as a mantra to help me keep going when I thought the pain was too much. I never forgot it.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Your past doesn’t define you, Anna. You can make your future what you want it to be. Remember that. Please.”

“Kris. No.”

“I have to go. Don’t invite me again. Goodbye, Anna. Merry Christmas.”

He disappeared into the crowd in the main room. An ache shot directly into Anna’s heart. She couldn’t breathe, choking on the air as tears streamed down her cheek. He was gone and this time it was for good. It was as if a part of her had been ripped off. She couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again.

She caught her breath, her mind racing. No, this wasn’t going to be how this ended. Not this time. Not when she finally understood what she had been wanting all along.

“Kristoff! Wait!”

Anna darted through the crowd, trying not to look too desperate as she wove through the people and headed towards the lobby. She had to be able to catch up with him. She pushed out the main doors, and past the tree she had stood in front. A reflection from the lights hit her in the eyes, making her wince. He wasn’t there. Anna hoped she could catch up to him before he got any further.

“Kristoff!”

Anna yelled as she raced down the stairs and onto the sidewalk.

“Kristoff wait! Please! Where are you?”

She ran into the streets, checking in all directions, looking into the vehicles before they could move from the light.

“Kristoff!”

But he was gone. It was as if he vanished right in front of her. Anna threw her head back in defeat looking to night sky. She was too late.

A snowflake hit her eye. Anna flinched and stumbled backwards. When she caught her balance, she looked around and saw that it had started snowing. She loved the snow. It should have felt magical, but all she wanted to do was get to her bed and sleep for a week.

She trudged back to the venue. Somewhere inside was her coat. She needed to find that before she figured out how to get home, all the while trying to avoid Andrew and her noted absence. Anna was going through scenarios of how to sneak in and back out when she found herself in front of the tree. She slowly followed the layers of ornaments up to the star as the rage and sorrow from the night built.

“Wishing tree my ass.” She let out of woeful laugh. “How many people have come here over the years? What do they ask for? Money, I bet. Or their health. Or love.” Anna waved her hand dismissively. “For what? All because someone came up with some ridiculous story who knows how long ago to draw in customers.” She stared up at the tree again. “How many people have you let down? Christmas wishes… You know what wishes solve? Nothing! You’re still poor, or sick or lonely, or… or…” She stopped to wipe away the tears. “You know what my wish would be? To fix this! To fix me! Make this night never happen this way! But you can’t because you’re a stupid tree! A stupid, dumb, plain ole, non-wishing tree!”

Anna stepped back. She could feel a headache coming on. “What’s wrong with me? Now I’m talking to the tree,” she mumbled.

Her headache quickly morphed into a dizzy spell. Anna held onto the wall waiting for it to pass. Her eyes caught the lights of the tree. They were blinking. Had she not noticed that before? The room started spinning. Then it got faster. Anna went to call for help but couldn’t make a sound. She lost her grip on the wall, stumbling forward, passing out before her body slammed to the floor.

----

The beeps were faint but steady. Anna groaned at the sound. She turned, not fully awake yet. That noise? Where was it coming from?

“It’s Saturday,” she drawled out. “Alarm off.” The sound didn’t stop. “Snooze.” No change. “Disconnect! Off! Stop!”

Anna sat straight up. Great, the sensor on this thing was going to have to be fixed again. She didn’t even want to know how much that was going to cost. She stretched, waking up more… Wait. That sound was different. It was farther away, muffled almost. She scrambled around. The sound was coming from her bed. No, from in her bed, under the blankets. Anna threw them off, searching until her hand felt something hard, like metal.

“Ah ha!”

Anna’s hand flew up in triumph with the offending source of the noise. She brought it down closer and stopped. “How much did I have to drink last night?”

She turned the device around and stared at the phone. Her finger reflexively swiped at the screen setting the alarm to off. “I didn’t know I still had this. …or why.” But it was hers she remembered that case that was designed to handle being dropped. Lord knows she dropped it enough times. It was a wonder the phone even turned on.

Anna laid back down. She was going to have to find Andrew and talk to him. First to find out what happened; a huge part of the night was a blur and then… nothing. She remembered going to find Elsa, but after that was blank. But more importantly talk about them. She couldn’t mask over her feelings anymore.

She ran her hand through her hair and stopped. “What?” She pulled a handful forward to look at. “H-how?” It was long. Last night it was,pulled back and short. Her hair didn’t go past her shoulders. The last time her hair was this long, she was…

Anna’s mouth dropped as she looked around. This wasn’t her old home. It wasn’t even her current place. It was… it was…

She hadn’t noticed the TV was on, but her head flicked to the screen as the morning news came on.

We are officially entering the Christmas season here folks. Welcome channel seven news for Saturday, November 24th 2018. Your home for all traffic weather and…

Anna bolted straight up.

“Wait, what? Did he just say 2018?!”

#kristannasecretsanta2018 #Hindsight #kristanna #Edin what did you write #anna #ngl I am nervous about this one #if they seem ooc there is reason #and to clarify 2018 is the past in this fic

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helmes-deep · 6 years

Note

Prompt: Sue finds out that Sean has liked her for years.

“Ughhh, why did I ever let you drag me and Lexie to this?” moaned Axl. His limp body folded further into his seat as his head slumped over the restaurant table, forming a sad-looking mop of dark curls.

“Oh please, Axl,” scoffed Sue from the other side of the booth. She and Lexie, who was sitting next to Axl, were administering the four menus. “You know we barely get enough time to see each other anymore since we’re all so busy. This was the perfect opportunity for us to not only spend quality time together as friends and family, but to also enjoy a romantic evening with our significant others.”

“UGHHHHHH, distant family members should never be forced to go on double dates with one another—it’s unnatural!!” groaned Axl. His fiery protest faded as his bent figure slumped slowly back into the booth. “Especially on Valentine’s Day…”

Sue couldn’t help giving her brother an irritated eye-roll, but she also couldn’t seem to wipe the worry from her concerned eyebrows. She didn’t like to admit it, but Axl had been right: she hadn’t expected for it to be this busy on Valentine’s Day. Their troupe had waited in line for a little over an hour in hopes of enjoying a nice, festive dinner together, and had only just been assigned their table a few minutes ago. Apparently, they hadn’t been the only ones who’d come up with the idea of having a pleasant evening dinner with their loved ones as a way to take a break from their busy schedules. The whole restaurant, which was a fairly popular, local eatery, was packed with couples who had probably gotten the exact same idea hours ago.

Sue’s anxious eyes turned to scan the expanse surrounding their group’s booth, taking in the entirety of the restaurant’s over-crowded seating area as another low grumble escaped Axl’s lips. For a moment, Sue saw nothing but a boisterous mix of laughing, chattering, and smiling faces before her eyes caught sight of someone appearing out of all the noise, making his way through the maze of cramped seating and tables.

“Hey, guys, what’d I miss?” Sean asked, appearing at their table. “Sorry it took so long for me to park the car; the line outside was really long so I had to find another parking space, and the heavy snow out there made it hard to see so I had to go down two more blocks.”

“I’m dying!” Axl wailed, his face momentarily bobbing up from the edge of the table before sinking back down again. “I need food…”

“Not much,” said Sue, substantiating Axl’s alarming response with a much more sane answer. She scooted over to let Sean slide in and take a seat beside her, handing him the menu. “We just got our seats here; they haven’t come over to take our orders yet.”

Sean nodded as he took the menu from her and started browsing through it. For a moment, things seemed to pick up again as a few waiters headed toward their table, but then quickly turned to help out other customers. The four sat uncomfortably at their booth for about another fifteen minutes trying to get any waiter’s attention before Axl threw up his hands and groaned again.

“Argghhh, what are they doing in there—roasting a polar bear?!” Axl asked out loud in clear, vocal frustration.

“Oh, I know, I know!” Sue suddenly piped up in excitement. She had to do something before her over-the-top brother completely imploded. “How about we all play a little game while we wait for someone to come by and take our food orders?”

“Oooh, that sounds fun!” Lexie responded with delight as Sean nodded. Lexie’s face then quickly became perplexed. “But what kind of game should we play?”

“Hmmmm… well, it needs to be entertaining enough so that we’d all be interested, but still boring enough so that we won’t get too interested—just enough to help us comfortably pass the time until someone comes over to take our orders,” Sue wondered aloud. “Oh! I know! How about we each get to think and ask the rest of the group a question that everyone at the table has to answer individually? Aaannd the question has to have something to do with our relationships,” Sue suggested with a small smile. “In order to keep in-line with the Valentine’s Day theme.”

“Oh oh oh! Me first! Me first!” Axl shouted, his whole body suddenly bolting up as he enthusiastically waved his hand. Because as lame as he thought this game was, Axl was dying to do anything that would take the attention away from his starving stomach. “I get first dibs on answering whatever is the first question!”

“All right, I’ll ask first,” Sue said. She paused to think for a second. “Okay, here’s my question: when was the first time you fell in love with your significant other?”

“Well, the first time I fell for Lexie was…” started Axl, trying his best to entertain the question. Talking about this kind of touchy-feel-y stuff had never been Axl’s strong point, but he could talk a dog into buying one of his business products if he really wanted to, so he tried his best to consider his answer to Sue’s proposed question. Axl scooted closer to Lexie and put his arm around his girlfriend, pulling her close. “Uhhhh… I think it was a little bit right after I’d divorced April? Sue had told me that Lexie really liked me all of a sudden, and for a second, I was a little weirded out…” Axl shifted in his seat. “So then I decided I’d go over to that St. Patrick’s party to find Lexie and talk to her. So I walked all the way over where they were having the party, searched high and low in the crowd for Lexie, and when I finally found her and spotted her just a few feet away from me, I thought—”

Axl turned to Lexie with an earnest, fond look in his eye that most probably hadn’t thought he was generally capable of, while Sue and Sean looked on with expectant faces.

“She’s… really… cute, and… I’m a cool guy, right? I’m glad she likes me; I really need to break up with April so we can go out sometime,” Axl finished lamely. Axl turned to give his date the warmest smile and most lovingly deep gaze, a look that perhaps much better communicated to his audience his clear and true affections for his girlfriend than his story had been able to express.

The intense anticipation on Sue’s and Sean’s faces quickly faded as Axl had reached the end of his tale, but Lexie only smiled and giggled like an excited, lovestruck girl anyway.

“Mine was when you rescued me from falling in your Winnebago that time me and Sue had to stay over at your guys’ place one night,” Lexie responded, her smile growing wider. Axl’s sincere smile grew with hers, and he pulled Lexie closer into him as they both went in for a quick kiss.

“All right, I’ll go next,” Sean offered happily. Everyone’s attention turned to him as they watched Sean sit still for a minute, pondering his answer to the question. Finally, after a long moment, Sean quickly answered. “Fifth grade—elementary school dance.”

“Wait, realllllllyyyyyy??” Sue gasped in shock, leaning a bit out of her seat to look over at her boyfriend with a startled look of surprise.

“Yeah, what?!” Axl echoed, immediately looking up from the empty straw wrapper he was currently playing with.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Sean answered. He seemed quite confident and sure in his response. “I think I was in fifth grade, and you were in third. We were having that annual Christmas show at our elementary school. You were in that pretty pink dress, and I thought you looked really cute and you were really funny your class came up to present, and you were trying really hard to keep up with everyone else during the dance.” Sean gave a little laugh, recalling the memory. “And then later, during the party, when I was looking for Axl, I spotted you crying in the corner of the classroom because one of the kids had taken your candy cane.” Sean gave a deep breath and shook his head. “And… I don’t know what happened… But at that moment, all I could think about was ‘Axl’s sister is a really nice and sweet person, and I don’t ever want to see her cry like that again.’ So then I went to look for the kid who had stolen your Christmas candy. Found him and knocked him out, but it turns out he’d already eaten your candy cane so I ended up giving you mine instead.” Sean shrugged. “I think I had a bit of a crush on you for about a week after that, but I didn’t really think much about it because we used to play with each other all the time so I thought whatever I was starting to feel toward you was normal for childhood friends… I guess, even though I knew I was feeling a bit differently about you back then, I didn’t really know what to call it since you and I were so young and we were all just kids… but now, looking back, I think… I think that’s when I just started to realize… that… I liked you a lot.”

A brief pause filled the table as everyone became quiet, clearly touched by Sean’s sincere, thoughtful, and (for some) very surprising answer. Sue gave Sean a wide smile and reached for his hand, beaming as she told him how sweet his story was.

“And I thought Sue liking you since middle school was worse,” Axl replied with a half-smirk.

“Axl!” Sue exclaimed, clearly still very embarrassed and horrified at her brother revealing her adolescent feelings for her childhood crush.

“Whaaaat?? You were always making those ‘googly eyes’ at Sean whenever he was over—like that time he came over to play video games with me for our class project,” Axl retorted, scrunching up his nose in brotherly disgust at the remembrance of his sister’s painfully obvious feelings of love. “Not to mention that ridiculous poem you wrote for him in junior high.”

Sue could only splutter in response to her brother’s brazen reply as Sean looked up from the table in complete surprise.

“That poem was about me?!” Sean exclaimed. The recognition, as well as smile, on his face grew wider.

“Wait, you read it?!?” Sue cried out with utter shock, terror, and panic in her eyes. She immediately turned to Axl. “Axl, did you give Sean my poem?”

“What? No! Please, I sacrificed my dignity for your stupid, dorky-girl fantasies!! I did not claim to dot my i’s with butts for this!” Axl shouted back, trying hard to defend himself in a very incoherent manner. Sue and Lexie exchanged odd looks.

“Wow, I had no idea you felt the same way about me when we were just kids,” Sean thought out-loud, clearly fascinated and mystified at the revelation. He turned to his girlfriend. “You should have told me; I would have asked you out to a dance much sooner.”

“I can’t either,” Sue laughed in response, the same level of surprise and mystified fascination layering her voice. Her eyebrows then crinkled together slightly. “Still… I can’t believe we started liking each other when we were both so young…” Sue looked up to Sean, concern and slight worry echoing at the back her voice. “You… don’t think it’s weird??”

“Nahh, we played a lot together as kids,” Sean replied matter-of-factly. “I think it’s kinda cute, and probably normal for people who spent so much time together, anyway.” He looked to Sue and smiled, squeezing her hand with firm re-assurance. “Besides, if anything, I think it kind of means that, maybe… we were always meant to be with each other.”

Sue’s face brightened up and she smiled, returning Sean’s honest words and sweet gesture with a loving squeeze of her own and a bright look. Sean gave her an encouraging smile and leaned over to give her a quick kiss on the lips. Lexie squealed at the couple’s antics, delightedly and affectionately choking her boyfriend’s arm.

“Word, you two make me sick,” Axl said, rolling his eyes in utter disgust. His stomach growled. He angrily threw away the straw wrapper, missing his intended mark before quietly muttering under his breath. “I should have never, never allowed you to convince me to come to this.”

DID YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY NIGHT?!?!?!? DID YOU SEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?!? OH MY GOODNESS I’M SO HAPPY IT FINALLY HAPPENED AND THEY’RE BOTH TOGETHER!!!!! IT WAS REALLY THE MOST PERFECT PAIRING-UP I COULD HAVE EVER POSSIBLELY IMAGINED!!!!! *SOBS TEARS OF JOY*

I’M SO SORRY IT’S BEEN SO LONGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!! But I really struggled with this one: I’ve been working on it for the past two weeks and in the process, I actually ended up writing a totally different story for this prompt because some parts to this one just weren’t working out (I finally did get it to move in the direction I wanted to, though :‘3). I also started working last week, so had to take a break from writing in general for a little bit. Good news is that I have the first drafts of the next two stories/prompts I want to post done, so hopefully those will come out a lot faster. I also might post the extra story I ended up writing for this prompt because I did like how that one turned out (it just didn’t seem to quite fit the actual prompt). *fingers crossed the next two stories come much faster than this one*

BUT YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU LIKED THIS STORY OR WHAT YOU THOUGHT ABOUT LAST NIGHT’S EPISODE OR OF YOUR DONASUE FEELINGS IN GENERAL I STILL CAN’T STOP SPAZZING OVER THE WHOLE THING LEOL!!!! 😭❄️💕

Send me a prompt and I’ll write a short Sue x Sean fanfic about it leol (closed)

Also available on FanFiction.net

#the middle #sue heck #sean donahue #sue x sean #sean x sue #mine #themiddleedit #asked #anonymous #fwriting #writing this I have NO IDEA how Axl could have fallen for Lexie lol #fanfiction.net chapter will be up in a minute #mwriting

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soul-parade-blog1 · 7 years

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Don't Waste Time

(AN: this ended up being super long no matter how many times i rewrote it. i figured it's the best i could do and decided to just post it.

"You're hiding something from me. You always leave the minute I show up-” "Lance," Keith growls. "I said stop. You don't know-” "I do know. I know how I feel...and I know friends don't look at each other the way we do.")

Lance is angry. See, the thing is, to an outsiders point of view, there wasn't anything to be mad about. The usual banter between Keith and him wasn't anything out of the ordinary. By now, it had become less snarky insults and more like thinly veiled terms of endearment. And therein lies the problem. Lance, for all his insecurities and doubts, knows what he wants when he sees it. And right now, he wants the messy haired boy with a scowl sharp enough to draw blood. Lance doesn't know how it happens, but one moment they're bickering back and forth over something ridiculous, and in the next moment, they're practically nose to nose. Lance can see every delicate eyelash and the deep furrow of Keith's brow. There's a glint of pure amusement in Keith's eyes that has Lance trying desperately to avoid them. For some reason, he can't keep eye contact. And then he makes a wrong move. He looks at Keith's lips.

The urge to kiss Keith is so profound and crazy, so utterly ridiculous that Lance actually backs up several paces. Distance does nothing to quell the sudden bloom inside his chest, in fact, it grows stronger. It practically burns him from the inside out, like a star imploding. Keith noticed the strange look on his face, and his mouth quirks into a frown. "Are you alright?" Keith asks. "You look...weird." "Fine," Lance says, a little too loudly, and swivels on the heels of his feet, striding away and into his room. That had been intense, and once Lance is safe in his own room, he tries to slow down the rapid galloping of his heart. He runs a hand through his hair, fingers shaking. Lance closes his eyes, and in that moment, with nothing but the quiet closing in on him, he knows what this feeling is. He's in love with Keith.

The anger comes later, once he successfully pushes back this brand new feeling deep inside his chest. Keith is avoiding him, as in, actively leaving the room whenever Lance enters. It doesn't make any sense, because sometimes Keith looks at him like the world is opening up before his eyes, and Lance for the life of him, can't figure out why that's changed all of a sudden. It goes unnoticed by everyone, which is something that Lance is surprisingly thankful for. It already hurts that Keith can't bear to look at him, he didn't need anyone else pointing it out. So when he spots Keith walking the halls alone, Lance practically sprints over to corner him against the wall. "What are you doing?" Keith asks, that same guarded look coming back in his eyes. He's already putting up his walls, and Lance wonders if they'd fall like a stack of dominoes once he knocked them down. "Why are you avoiding me?" Lance gets right to the point. "I'm not-” "Don't lie to me, okay? I'm not stupid." "I don't know why you're getting so upset," Keith replies, the barest hint of irritation starting to form on his face. "we're not exactly close." Something sharp ignites in Lance's stomach, prickles of annoyance run up and down his skin. "Now you're just blatantly acting dumb." Lance puts his hands on either side of the wall, trapping Keith in place. "Just tell me what's wrong." "There's nothing wrong with me." "Keith, we're friends, as much as it pains you to hear that. I know you more than you think I do." "Stop it." "You're hiding something from me. You always leave the minute I show up-” "Lance," Keith growls. "I said stop. You don't know-” "I do know. I know how I feel...and I know friends don't look at each other the way we do." "Will you please, please, just shut up?!" Keith grabs Lance by the front of his hoodie, the action so sudden that whatever Lance is about to say next dries up in his throat. Keith's eyes are blazing. It's anger and a desperation Lance has never seen before, warring so clearly in his expression that Lance feels a pang in his chest. "Are you ever going to let me get a word out, or are you just going to keep on talking?" Keith sighs, hesitant and weary. He absentmindedly tightens his grip. "Look, I get it, alright? You like me. I can see it in the way you stare at me. It's...it's nice, Lance." His voice drops to a whisper, his words are so soft and low that it makes Lance shiver. Heat pools inside his stomach. "But I can't do this." He releases Lance's hoodie, but his fingers linger there for a moment or two before they fall. When Keith looks up, fear is clouted about his face. It's so surprising that Lance can only stand there, even long after Keith leaves.

It's been days since they're encounter at the corridor, and Lance is left disgruntled and moody. The air between Keith and him is charged and tense, like a cord threatening to snap. There's a sliver of ice surrounding them, one that Lance can't penetrate no matter how much he may want to. So when Coran demands that he see them both, Lance can't help but feel both nervous and excited. They're in a room Lance has never seen before. It's relatively empty save for a couple of bookshelves and furniture, and he realizes that this is the longest he's been in the same room as Keith for about a week. "What's this about, Coran?" Keith asks, and there's an edge to his voice that he rarely ever uses with him. "I feel like there's something going on between you two." Coran says, and that makes Lance begin to sweat. He's oddly serious, the usual exuberance in his voice is gone. "In fact, I'm certain of it. And it's creating a rift between you two." Keith glares at Lance, a dog ready to bite. "What did you tell him?" He demands. "I didn't tell him anything!" Lance exclaims. "And none of this would be happening if you just...just..." Lance gropes for the right words, arms flailing. "succumb to love!" "Succumb to love," Keith repeats slowly. "really? You're serious?" "Yes!" An angry blush colors Lance's face, and he crosses his arms. He turns away from Keith and feels a pout coming on. "Now, boys, don't fight." Coran interrupts. "I just want to give you some advice." "Not to be rude, Coran, but what do you know about this?" Lance asks, and that makes him laugh. "I've had a string of boyfriends nearly all my life," he admits, and Keith's mouth falls open. Lance's eyes widen in shock. "Wh-are...are you joking?!" "Certainly not! I don't usually tell anyone this, but I was quite the heartbreaker back in my day." Coran smiles broadly, but it vanishes just as quickly as it comes. "You know, young paladins, despite all of my former flames, the one I loved the most was someone I couldn't have. He had a family, after all, I couldn't uproot that. But I stood by him every step of the way, even when his planet was ripped apart…” Coran seems to be trailing off, his voice tinged with sadness. “and the last time I saw him...he still smelled faintly of juniberries..." "Wait," Lance is sitting on the edge of his seat. "wait, are you...Coran, were you in love with King Alfor?!" "Does Allura know?" Keith asked, and Coran shakes his head. "I could never tell her that," Coran looks at them both seriously. There was an ancient look in his eyes. They were awash in memories that brimmed just below the surface. It was a look so sad that Lance had trouble keeping his gaze. "and I'd prefer it if you didn't tell her, either. I only told you this to try and make a point. Life is short for you humans, and while I try not to think about it, I can't avoid the fact that you two won't live forever. I lost the love of my life a long time ago, and it still hurts to this day. I can't begin to tell you how many times I wished I had told Alfor the truth about how I felt. Do yourselves a favor, Paladins. Try to look past the fear and be honest with each other. You'll find that, deep down, love is not as scary as it sounds."

Then, without another word, Coran gave them a small smile and swept out of the room. Lance wants to stop him, because now he's filled with questions, but Keith stops him. He's standing up, and suddenly the air is charged again. Lance fidgets with his hands, something is blocking his throat. "Lance," Keith begins, and the way he says his name is so low that Lance feels his heart race. "listen, before you say anything, I just wanted...I wanted to say that I'm sorry-” Lance has already stood up, and has crossed the space between them. In one swift motion, he's got Keith by his shoulders, and the kiss is sure and true between them. Lance feels like he's melting, like he's jumped into a pool of stars. The kiss is a fever pitch, and loved every single second. Keith's whole body goes rigid before, he too, relaxes. His fingers grip at Lance's shirt, desperate and needy. It's pure ecstasy, and when Lance pulls away he thinks he could stay like this forever. "What Coran said made a lot of sense," Lance whispers. "let's not waste anymore time, alright? So just shut up and kiss me." Keith's expression is fond, and he kisses him again.

#klance voltron #keith x lance #voltron #voltron legendary defender

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fireawayniall · 7 years

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This Time Around-Chapter 1

A/N: I did not plan on this chapter getting to be this long, oops! Not sure when I will get to update, but hopefully it isn’t forever. Anyway, please let me know what you think so far; it has been so long since I have written anything, feedback is greatly appreciated!

Life had been going great for 18 year old Lucas Friar and his 17 year old girlfriend of almost 3 years, Riley Matthews. They had an amazing group of friends and could not wait to start their senior year at Abigail Adams High School. He had a 3.5 GPA, she had a 4.0 GPA, he was captain of the baseball team, she was co-head of the drama department, he had a part time/weekend job at a local animal hospital, and she had a flexible part time job at her mom’s bakery

Ever since the Matthews Family had almost moved to England, Riley and Lucas had made a conscious effort to never take their relationship for granted. They realized that although they were hopeful they were not guaranteed forever, so they tried to spend all of the time that they could with each other. Occasionally this put a strain on other relationships, especially Riley’s relationship with her best friend Maya, but Maya had to learn that she was no longer head and shoulders above all others when it came to her relationship with Riley.

Lucas came in to his apartment from workouts on a typical Thursday afternoon. It was a teacher workday the next day and the following Monday was Fall Break for New York City Schools. All the 18 year-old wanted to do was get a shower and then meet his friends at Topanga’s, but when he walked into the apartment he knew that something was up.

His parents were sitting at the dining room table in a deep conversation when he walked into the apartment.

“Hey guys, what’s up?”

“Lucas can you come sit down for a minute, we need to tell you something.” Mrs. Friar said to her son.

“Ok…” All Lucas could think was how this did not sound good, at all.

“Lucas, your dad is being transferred again, this time it is to Germany.”

Lucas heard his parents, and was trying really hard not to lose his temper. He thought for sure his parents would not be pulling him out of school at the beginning of his senior year.

He took a deep breath before he spoke, “Ok, so how is this going to work? Are mom and I going to stay here this year so I can finish out school?”

Mr. and Mrs. Friar just looked at each other with a sad look and Lucas felt his stomach drop.

“We are so sorry honey, but we are all going to be moving. Your dad’s company is paying for the move, but not the new house. We just can’t afford to have two houses. It is only for a year, and then you can come back here for college.”

Lucas felt like his world was imploding, all he could think about was what this was going to do to his relationship with Riley. Sure, they were as strong of a couple as they had ever been, but he still worried what a year apart with that big of a time difference would do to them. They had already had to face this once and escaped it, but he just didn’t see any getting out of it this time.

He needed to get out of there. If he was going to have any hope of talking his parents into letting him stay, he needed to get out of there and get out of there fast before he exploded.

“I’m going to go for a walk. I have my phone.” He didn’t wait for a reply. He just stood up, and walked out of the apartment.

He didn’t want to get of the subway, it had too many memories that he didn’t want to relive at the moment, so he decided he would walk to the park near Riley’s house.

He texted their group chat and told them that his parents needed him so he would not be coming to Topanga’s, but he would try to catch up with them over the long weekend.

Once he got to the park he sat on a bench and thought about what this move would mean. He would be leaving not only the love of his life but all of his friends. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to do it. They were the people that kept him grounded, made sure he kept a level head. He worried that if he was that far away from them he would turn back into Texas Lucas, no matter how long it had been since he was that person.

Thinking about Texas made him think about a conversation he and Riley had a few weeks ago. They were talking about college. She had not only been looking for herself, but for him as well. She knew that Texas A&M was one of the best in the county for Veterinary Medicine. They had talked about the distance then, they had said they might be able to do it. Flights weren’t super outrageous from New York to Houston or Austin, and it was only an hour time difference so they could talk all of the time. He hadn’t told her, but he had also been looking at vet schools in and around New York. However, now he had no idea what he was going to do.

He needed to talk to Riley, maybe she would have brilliant idea. If anything, she would make sure that he didn’t have a break down during all of this. He hated having to tell her, he knew it would tear her up inside, but this affected her as much as it did him. He looked at the clock on his phone and realized that she was probably home from Topangas. If she wasn’t he could always wait for her, or talk to Mr. Matthews, he was a great mentor and gave great advice when he wasn’t trying to chase Lucas out of the apartment or giving him a look.

He walked to her apartment and buzzed up. Since they had been dating he didn’t use her window unless he was with the group or he was coming over after curfew. The door unlocked and he opened it and went to their door. The door opened before he could knock and he was greeted by a tearful Topanga Matthews and a sad looking Cory Matthews, of course his parents would call them.

“We are so sorry Lucas.”

“Does she know?”

“No, she is up in her room. We figured it would be better if she heard it from you. But if you want us to tell her, we can.” Topanga said as she pulled Lucas into a hug. He had become like a second son to them. She knew, or at least had hoped before all of this, that he would one day officially be her another son.

“No, I will do it. Thank you both, for everything.”

Lucas went up the stairs and saw that Riley’s door was slightly open. He peeped in and saw her laying on her bed coloring in one of the “grown-up” coloring books she had. She said that they made her feel artistic like Maya, but also like a kid because technically she was coloring. He could hear the playlist that he had made her playing softly in the background. He knocked softly and pushed the door open. She greeted him with a big smile, the smile that could brighten his darkest days. He hated at he was going to have to be the one to take the smile off of her face.

He tried to smile back, but he could tell by the look on her face that he did not succeed. “Lucas, what’s wrong?”

He walked over and sat beside her on the bed. He was propped against the headboard. “We need to talk...”

#Rucas #Rucas Fanfic #Rucas Fanfiction #This Time Around

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songs-of-the-galaxy · 5 years

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1. One last time

Length: 4430 words

Genre: drama

TW: death.

It’s pretty wild that my first piece is sad and dramatic but I promise my writing is a lot more upbeat than this. It’s just that this piece has a special place in my heart. I hope you enjoy.

- Andromeda

He was in the car, driving back home from the airport. The tour had been long and he missed his girlfriend. She sacrificed so much for him and all he ever did was leave and leave some more. Dean really wished he could spend more time with her, but as they had both come to realize, the life of a star made it impossible to settle into a routine. The car was filled with the sound of the music on the playlist Malia had made for him a while back. She had called it Remember me, because she knew each song would remind him of her, a way for them to be together even when they weren’t. It was currently snowing. It was nothing like a blizzard. Rather it was a soft and constant descent of snowflakes and Dean felt happiness bubble up inside of him. He actually really liked snow. Always the thoughtful boyfriend, Dean wondered if Malia was warm and hoped she was currently under the thick covers of their shared bed. She couldn’t welcome him at the airport because she had work, and Dean hoped she’d had a good day. Malia worked so hard. The city was quiet, such a great contrast to its busier day facade. Perhaps therein lay the beauty of cities: in the stark contrast between their streets in the day and at night.

Simultaneously, Malia was on her way home from work. It had been a long day and all she wanted to do was sit in the couch with a cup of tea, waiting for her boyfriend to come home. He was returning from a two-month tour and to say she had missed him would be an understatement.

She yearned for the covers of her bed and the warmth of the apartment, the dark snowy streets not warm enough for her. As she turned into the small hallway she usually took, a shortcut she had discovered a while back, she heard shuffling behind her. Malia’s head whipped around in an attempt to see who or what was behind her, but there was nothing. It was probably her own footsteps being echoed off the walls on either side of her. Her building would be in sight in barely a minute and Malia felt her heart soar at the thought that not only would she be home soon, but that Dean was returning from tour. She wanted to welcome him, but it was a busy night and her boss made sure to tell her that she would lose her job if she missed it. Of course, her boyfriend understood and practically begged her to go to work, but if she were to be honest, she would rather have been jobless than continue to entertain the disgusting men who threw dirty comments and hit on her as she served them their food. Tonight was no exception, one of them had asked for a night with her and she had never felt so humiliated in her entire life. In fact, she was so disgusted that she’d punched the guy in the face, just how Dean had taught her and though she’d lost her job as a result, she was proud of herself. It was sure, her boyfriend would be just as proud, and probably make plans to beat him up for even thinking his baby would do such a thing. All these months she’d refused to tell her boyfriend what was happening at her job because Dean angry was indeed a sight to behold, but not in a good way, but also because it had never been as bad. Tonight was a displaced event.

For one reason or another she decided to take the stairs to her fourth floor apartment, humming along to her music as she did so. Once again she heard shuffling as she walked up. There had to be something going on, but like always, she shrugged it off and put her earphones back on. It wasn’t worth the hassle, she was already inside the building and the apartment was less than fifty steps away. A shuffling coming from behind her caught her attention and she turned around to face the end of the hallway where the stairs were and there he was. The man she’d punched at the restaurant, face bloody and eyes wild. Now, under the harsher light of the hallways, she could really see him. He seemed to be in his early thirties, his beard was nothing but a shadow and his clothing was that of a regular office worker, but his eyes were the scariest thing about him. His eyes, his dark, widely opened, animalistic eyes were focused on her with a vengeance engraved in them. The fear they made her feel was immediate and absolute. She was so focused on his expression that she failed to notice the large knife in his hand.

Dean drove towards his apartment, happily singing along to the songs, even laughing at some of the memories associated with them as he made his way home. He was almost there, around fifteen minutes away from rest and her, Malia’s loving embrace could literally melt away all of his worries and it even crossed his mind at that moment, whether or not he could take her along with him on tour. That was ridiculous, he knew, but for those minutes he entertained the idea, laughing to himself at how deeply in love he really was, when his phone rang. It was her.

“Baby, what’s up?”

“Hi honey, when are you gonna be here?”

He looked at the car clock and thought about it for a second. She seemed eager and he didn’t want to be wrong in his estimations. Malia was such a whiner when she missed him.

“Five to ten minutes, what’s the matter?”

“I just wanted to know.”

“Oh okay, I’ll see you then?”

“N-no, keep talking to me, please.”

Now she sounded desperate. She spoke as if this was her last lifeline—perhaps it was, if he judged by the longing in her voice. That worried him. Usually she was less clingy about it all. And although he complained endlessly about her being a needy child, he loved it, despite endless complaints. Was she crying? Was something wrong? Was she hurt? What was going on?

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing I miss your voice.”

He didn’t believe her, but decided to let it go. Malia had a habit of being extremely stubborn and Dean knew, no matter how hard he tried to get it out of her, she would never say it. Hell she could be dying and refuse to admit it, it was ridiculous. He sighed, running his free hand through his hair. God bless Malia, she had shown him the greatness that the car Bluetooth system was. Not having enough time to try out the gadgets in the car, he relied solely and completely on his girlfriend when it came to how the black vehicle they shared worked. At that moment he began to feel bad about her having to give up the car for the night so he could get home. She had a shift and couldn’t make it to the airport so she’d left the car at the company buildings for him. He despised her working there but what could he do? She was hellbent on getting her own paycheck, and he wasn’t complaining as long as she was happy.

“Alright, but I’m literally five minutes away.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, it seemed her breathing was labored as she replied, her voice barely a whisper. “O-okay,”

“Are you ok?” Dean bit the inside of his cheeks as his eyebrows knotted together in confusion. What the hell was going on over there?

“Yeah I’m fine,” Malia rushed out. “How was the tour?”

“It was good. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

It seemed eternity had passed before she spoke again. If her words had previously been barely audible, this time it seemed the only way he had heard them was through telepathic communication because she barely said them. “D-Dean?”

“Yeah babe?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He was getting more and more nervous at the way she was talking. By her demeanor you’d think she was dying. Dean sighed and forced himself to relax. Malia was such a baby sometimes and it made him nervous because he’d always think she was in danger or hurt but in reality she was just missing him and had decided to curl up in his sweatshirts and cry about it.

“Babe, relax, I’m am now walking out of the elevator. I’m sure you can hear me. I don’t know what I’ve done to get such a whiny girlfriend, seriously.” He finished with a chuckle and she giggled back.

Something was off about the laugh, but he brushed it off. Nothing ever sounded normal when Malia cried.

“At least you know how much I miss you.”

He walked out of the elevator, suitcases in hand and his mouth fell open when he saw it. Her, laying on the ground in what seemed to be too red clothing. Her work clothes were white. It all happened so fast, one second he was standing in front of the elevator, the next he was on his knees and that’s when he realized it. She was dying, she was really dying.

“M—Malia,” he croaked, his throat too dry to do otherwise, “what happened?”

“It’s nothing,” she replied giving him a bloody smile and he felt his heart implode from the pain that was written on her face.

As much as she tried to hide it, it wouldn’t happen. She was in suffering and he could tell; several years had taught him the art of reading her face and for the first time ever he regretted ever having learned such a skill. He wanted to be oblivious to the agony she was in, he wanted this all to be a dream, some type of twisted nightmare, or even a prank. Because there was no way this could have happened, not to him, not his girl.

“What do you mean it’s nothing?!”

“I’m okay babe,” she replied once more as reason flew off into the horizon.

Dean was at a loss for words, panic shot through his habitually calm body and he didn’t know how to deal with it. He could take care of Malia’s clumsy accidents, but he didn’t know how to take care of this.

“No you’re not.” His face had become almost as pale as hers. Her plump lips were becoming more and more blue, her skin felt colder as time passed and he knew, the life was slipping out of her. “Did you call for help?”

She shook her head. “I’m already too far gone, I just wanted to hear your voice one last time.”

It hit him like a train, that he may have to spend the rest of his life without her and it hurt more than anything. More than when his first girlfriend ditched him for his best friend, more than leaving Malia behind for concerts, more than the time he was harassed by crazy fans, along with her in the process. This was real physical pain and for a moment he felt his body go numb. He couldn’t move because he didn’t feel like he had a body anymore. Tears pricked at his eyes but he knew he had to keep it together.

“You are not going to leave me like this.”

“I’m not gonna make it.”

She was crying. Her hand rested over the wound on her abdomen. Her white blouse was becoming redder by the minute, her breathing more and more labored, her body getting colder as she lay in his arms.

“Yes you are. You are going to make it and survive this. I have to marry someone-”

“We could be like Romeo and Juliet. Unless you want to marry a corpse.”

“Don-don’t joke like that. I’m going to call for help okay? Stay awake. You can make it.”

“Dean, I’m cold.”

“I know, baby.” He took his jacket off, tears streaming down his face as he did so and placed it on her. “I know. Just hang in there. You can’t leave me like this. What am I going to do without you?”

She smiled at the warmth the jacket brought her, and nodded, maybe there was hope after all. Maybe he would get what he wanted. Him and her, married, two kids, a house in the more residential parts of the city, happiness. His voice rang through to her, but it was a faraway voice. His voice was drifting further and further away and her eyelids felt progressively heavier. Perhaps if she closed her eyes for just a second she would be okay. She was tired and needed some rest to continue this journey.

“No, don’t close your eyes!” Dean called out so fast that the fatigue fled her body at an all time high speed. “The ambulance will be here soon. Can you tell me what happened?”

“He-he-” she coughed, and this time, the red liquid that coursed through her veins made its way past her lips, substituting for words and Dean felt his tears flow down his face, trying his best to keep them from staining her.

It killed him to see the woman he loved in such a situation.

“It’s okay,” he rocked her back and forth, frantically wiping his tears. “Take your time.”

“He was from the restaurant. I punched him.”

“Someone from your job followed you?”

She nodded weakly and if Dean didn’t know, he would have guessed she was dead. But no, he refused to let himself think like that. She was going to make it.

“I’m going to take care of it, okay? Just hang in there, the paramedics will be here in no time. They’re going to fix you.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can-can you say my name?’

“Malia, why are you asking me such ridiculous questions?”

“Just say it, please.”

He sighed and said her name, taking his time to pronounce each letter, from the Oakley of her last name to the Malia of her first, he made sure each letter was like music to her ears. After a moment, she smiled and thanked him before asking him to sing her a song. The song they both loved so much. An old song from Machine’s older albums, and he opened his mouth to sing for her. She smiled a bloody smile, closing her eyes and he stopped.

“Don’t close your eyes.”

“I’m sleepy.”

“I know, Malia but please fight to stay awake.”

The sound of the ambulance rang through the building and that’s when, after all that had happened, the neighbors came out of their homes, the wrinkles of sleep evident on their face. The seven-year-old girl from next door, whose company Malia enjoyed so much, stepped out of her house but, when her mother realized what was going on, was pulled back into the apartment and the door was closed before the young woman came back out.

“What in the world happened?”

“I—I don’t know.” Dean replied, at a loss for words.

When it was just the two of them, there was the possibility that this may have been a dream. But now as the neighbor looked at the two lovers, one dying and the other weeping, reality struck. This was real and Malia was in fact dying. They could all hear the paramedics making their way out of the elevator and he smiled through his tears, feeling hope rise inside him again.

“Malia. They’re here. I told you it was going to be okay.” No response came from the woman and he looked down to see her eyelids closed. “Malia, wake up. They’re here.” Nothing. “Malia. Malia. MALIA OAKLEY.” Rage built in him as he realized she had fallen asleep despite his clear instructions for her not to. He wiped her face, gently tucking strands of her hair behind her ears. “Babe. Please wake up, the paramedics are here. they’re going to fix you. Malia, I said your name, I sang for you. Please just open your eyes. The medics are going to help you like I said.”

In a split second, he had come down from the anger and desperation filled him. She had to wake up. She hadn’t fought so hard only to give up mere seconds before the paramedics got to her. There was no way this was happening. This had to be a joke right? This couldn’t be true. Malia had to wake up.

The EMT looked at Dean, and without having to say it, he knew.

“No, that’s a lie. She can’t be. She was talking ten seconds ago. Stop lying to me.”

“I’m sorry sir.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. She’s not dead. Look I covered her when she was cold, I talked to her. I told her to stay awake so that you could fix her. She’s just resting her eyes.”

“Dean.” This time it was the neighbor. She spoke softly and touched his shoulder, a touch that was immediately rejected.

“Malia, wake up and show them how much of a fighter you are.” the EMT approached Dean, but the man wouldn’t move. They couldn’t take her. She wasn’t dead.

“Sir we have to take her body.”

“DOn’t talk about her like she’s dead!”

“Dean,” the neighbor began, attempting to pry him away from his girlfriend’s body, but he wasn’t moving.

“Don’t touch me! She’s going to wake up! Baby wake up. You have to show them how wrong they are. Baby please.” he pleaded with her, but deep down, he knew. Malia wasn’t coming back home.

He’d lost the will to continue. What was he going to do without her? With a sunken heart and the feeling of having lost a part of himself, he gently placed into the EMT’s arms and stood at a distance, trying to understand how this could happen to him. To his girl.

The paramedics took Malia’s body and zipped her into the body bag while Dean just stood next to the stretcher, his face blank. No one could tell what he was feeling, only that he was devastated beyond words. Nothing anybody would have said could have changed the way he felt, and even the neighbor knew. Despite him having pushed her hand away, she hugged him.

“I’m so sorry Dean. I really am.”

He didn’t reply, but only stared blankly ahead. The words just weren’t coming, and besides, he preferred to keep quiet. What could he say? He’d tried everything he could. But in the end she had left him alone.Dean looked at his hands, bloody and shaking. Her blood.

His luggage still sat in the hallway where he had dropped it and when the neighbor moved to his side, asking him for the key so she could get him inside, he refused.

“I’m going to go to the hospital.”

“That’s dangerous, the fans—”

“My girlfriend just died and you want me to stay here because of the fans? Should I come in the car?” the paramedic looked him over and sighed.

“It’s best if you come with us. You don’t look like you can drive.”

Dean nodded and left with the ambulance.

The ride was quiet, Dean contemplated how he was going to fare without Malia. Was life without her even possible? It seemed everything before he’d met her was useless and all that mattered were the four and a half years they had been together, but that night, Dean began to wonder for the first time in a while. What was life like before Malia Oakley? Did he want to go back to that life? More importantly, how was he going to go back to it?

The hospital was rather empty. Not many people got hurt on Tuesday nights. The few people who were there recognized Dean within seconds and despite the late hour, a rumble was born in the emergency room. Machine was here.

“Please let him through.”

Dean’s worst fear was realized. Not only was he afraid of fans because well, he’d had his share of unpleasant experiences, but now, Malia was part of the product that he was. To see people so excited to see him in a hospital, next to a body bag, just because they could now take a picture of him, was utterly sickening. The paramedics led him away before anything could happen, to the room where Malia’s body would find a home until the cause of death would be determined, another hurdle he would have to overcome alone.

“You can have a few minutes with her before we have to put her away.”

He spoke of her as if she wasn’t in the same room as them, as if she didn’t exist anymore and at that moment Dean felt the emotions overcome him once again.

“Baby.” He touched her face with shaking hands and sighed. “You look so beautiful when you sleep. How do you manage it?” His voice was soft, almost inaudible as he spoke to the envelope that held his beloved a mere hour ago. “I’m going to miss you. I don’t know how I’m going to do it.” His voice cracked as he moved a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. “Why did you do that huh? Why did you leave me? I was supposed to marry you Malia. We were supposed to have two kids and live in a nice house where they would play and grow. Who am I supposed to do that with now huh?”

The tears fell out of his eyes as he spoke, his words laced with grief.

“You can’t do this to me Malia. We had too many plans, too much stuff to do. You can’t decide to leave me like this. That’s not what we said. Malia. It’s Dean. It’s me.”

He begged, his face hovering over hers, sobbing as the pain hit him in all senses of the word, emotionally, physically, mentally, he was almost as gone as she was.

“Please Malia. Please, please.” He had no idea what he was begging for, but he did it nevertheless because he had nothing else to say. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Dean resorted to such words. Maybe it would make things better, if even in death she knew he loved her. He would never stop loving her, that was a fact.

When he felt he had had enough time with her, Dean left the small room and sat in the waiting area that was now empty. Either people had left or were asked to pretend he wasn’t there, and regardless of what had happened he didn’t care. His phone rang again, it was Eric, probably calling to see if he’d gotten home.

“She’s gone.” he said, his voice void of emotion and on the other side of the line, Eric’s face scrunched in confusion.

"What are you talking about? Did you get home?”

"I was too late.” Dean replied softly and Eric’s heart picked up. Something was off. Dean was soft spoken, but this was too soft to be good.

"Dean, what the hell are you talking about?”

"Malia is dead.”

A moment of silence ensued, and Eric had no idea what to say. Dead? Was he sure he was saying the right word? There was no way his friend’s girlfriend could be dead. He‘d spoken to her earlier that evening.

"What—oh—oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

"Maybe if I’d been home earlier, maybe if I’d insisted on her skipping tonight’s shift. Maybe if—

"Dean, stop. It’s not your fault” Eric cut him off, taking a seat in living room. This was a hit to them all. Malia wasn’t just Dean’s girlfriend, she was their friend, and not having her around had already began to seem like an obstacle too large to overcome.

"But what am I going to do without her?”

"Where are you? I’m coming with the boys,”

"No, you don’t have to.” in his seat, Dean held up his hands as he spoke, asking his friend to stay at home. They didn’t need this, not after the tour. Besides, this was his fight to overcome.

"Yes I do. Where are you.”

"The hospital near my house.”

"I’ll be right over.”

There was no time for him to reply, because his leader had already hung up. He knew there was no stopping him, and so he waited. A part of him was glad to have his brothers around him—because that’s who they were, his brothers—at least he would have someone to talk to, or look at.

It was nearly ten minutes before the rest of Machine, all clad in sweatpants and plain shirts, walked into the waiting room, wearing masks on their faces.

“Dean.” Mike called out as the seven other men sat, looking at their friend. He looked desolate, like he’d just lost everything he called his on the planet.

“I told her not to fall asleep. But she’s stubborn.”

“Hey, you can talk to us.” David murmured and Dean nodded.

“I know, thanks. Thank you guys for coming, but you didn’t have to. You all look so tired.”

“Have you seen yourself? If anything we should be sending you home.” Ryan replied and they all smiled a fading smile. One that allowed him to momentarily forget why they were in the hospital, why he was sitting in a waiting room looking like he’d lost his reason for living. Well, if one were to put it simply, he’d lost his pillar. It would be a challenge, living as if Malia had never existed.

“It’s going to be okay. I know it.”

Mike patted his friend’s shoulder. If there was one thing Machine was good at, it was dealing with tragedies.

#type: short story #genre: drama/angst #Andromeda writes

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