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#ive been like this my entire life it’s just gotten worse in the past couple of years
cookinguptales · 2 years
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Love living out here in the forest, hate having to drive two hours every time I need to have blood drawn lmao.
Today we have to drive to the nearest town with a LabCorp because I need a lot of bloodwork done, which means I have to go on a long car ride without any food or electrolyte tablets (my love) in my system for about 12 hours. I have a whole host of chronic illnesses, so lbr, this is gonna fuck me up. Good chance I’ll be very iffy the next couple days. If you really need me, send me a chat or an ask so it doesn’t get lost in my notifications and I’ll get back to you when I can! I promise.
I say this because next week I am going to be even more iffy so just in case I don’t feel up to talking before then, I’m not dead! I’m just gonna be hooked up to an IV for several days lmao.
[cut for personal stuff]
I haven’t been talking about it really in-depth because frankly, I doubt people really want to hear the gory details of my personal life but like. Things have been pretty bad for the past eight months or so. Health-wise. I mean, they’re always pretty bad, but things have been... worse. I always joke about oh, I can’t see today, oh I can’t keep food down, oh my body sounds crazy today but like. Honestly speaking, it’s been really hard. My work has suffered, my writing has suffered, my mental health has suffered. The brain fog has been absolutely unreal. I can’t tell you how frustrated I’ve been with these stories in my brain that I can’t seem to draw out. I want to show you them so badly and I’m running out of time... Sigh.
I digress. I was in the process of getting signed up for ketamine treatments before the pandemic hit and I’ve finally gotten an appointment to get started next week. Again, I don’t really talk about it much in detail but like. Yeah, I’ve had MDD since I was in elementary school and there have been some very dangerous periods in my life. It’s extremely treatment resistant and if we’re being entirely honest, dark thoughts are just kind of the cosmic background radiation of my life and have been since I was too young to even understand what I was thinking about. It’s been even harder to push through lately, but ketamine has been shown to help in a lot of SSRI-resistant situations... idk. They say it should also help with the pain, but I guess we’ll see. I’ve sure heard that before.
(At least if no one else is having a good time, I’ve sure given some doctors a puzzle they enjoy...)
I’m kind of scared, honestly. It’s a daunting set of (somewhat experimental) procedures anyway, but also like... I’m scared that it won’t work and this will just be my brain forever? But I’m also scared that it will and I’m going to have to figure out how I’m going to afford this going forward. It’s not covered by my insurance. 🙃 So my brain’s kind of all over the place, but some of that is also that I’m hungry and dizzy as hell but I won’t get to eat or consume salt for another *checks watch* 4-5 hours. ;;
(Why yes, I’m sure I do sound very scattered rn. Don’t worry, I’m not the one driving. lmao)
idk, just trying to keep my head up. We have to drive all the way down to freaking San Francisco next week and I’m not looking forward to THAT drive, but I’m hoping I have the energy to do some grocery shopping down there. Again, love the forest. Hate the food selection out here in the middle of absolute nowhere. lmao
I do not know how the ketamine is going to affect me just like, frankly speaking, I usually don’t know how fucking any medication is going to affect my weird-ass body. I could be fine and happy as a clam posting about vampires next week! But I could also be out like a damn light and totally uncontactable. So heads up either way.
OH BUT SILVER LINING the doctor did say I’m allowed to take my motion sickness pills before we drive down today, and if you’ve ever been on the roads up in the far northern part of California, you will know why I about cried with relief lmao.
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If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVII
This is the penultimate part. The last one is written and drafted - I did finish while on vacation. Expect it for next weekend.
Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV and pt XVI.
It's as everything happens in May. Kurt feels as if he should be used to it by now, but this year is worse than any before. It's understandable, he guesses, what with it being his senior year, but understanding doesn't help. Some of the squares on his wall calendar has so many things on them they're barely legible, and there are days when he wants to just quit it all.
He can always work in his dad's garage for the rest of his life. Surely that's not the worst thing ever?
The only reason he's not a complete wreck when Nationals comes is the Warblers meeting held right after Regionals where David had used logic (how dare he) and suggested their approach to Nationals.
Kurt's first, immediate reaction is “we're never going to win with that” which he also says out loud, only to be met by “so what”.
“I don't say this lightly. I've been a Warbler for four years. It's been amazing to be surrounded by all of these talented people, and make music just because we like it, and that's why I've kept it up even with all the hints I've gotten that my 'future career' would be better served by me spending that time on learning another language or studying harder. After all, what use is singing and dancing for a lawyer?”
There's a bitterness in David's voice, and it's echoed in a number of murmurs around the room.
“This is the one thing I do for fun, that I do just for me, and some days the only thing that makes slogging through my mountain of homework bearable is knowing that once I'm done I can go enjoy Warblers. This year's group hold more talent of all my years here, which is why it hurts to say that I don't think we can win, no matter what setlist we go on with. We're simply not the kind of group that wins a contest like this.”
Which, probably true. The Warblers are good, yes, but they're an all boys a capella group performing in uniforms. They don't have the productions that teams who wins Nationals do. Doesn't mean that it hurts just as much to hear as it hurts to say.
“The truth is – and I'm sorry, I know we don't talk about him, but I have to – the truth is that we didn't even compete before Blaine.”
Kurt expects it to sting to hear his name. It does, but not much. He's moving past that.
“Blaine walked in here and wanted to compete so badly. He spent his first semester here trying to talk us into trying, even with all the reasons we had for not going so, and he got his way. That doesn't change the fact that this is only our second year competing, and we've surpassed all expectations by making it to Nationals.  To do so again and win, or even place in the top... I don't think we can do that, not even with all the talent in this room.”
No one likes hearing that, but no one's disagreeing either. They aren't going to win. That's just how it is.
“So why not do that we like? Why don't we pick songs we like and that showcases our strengths? Why don't we sing a song that will make you happy, Kurt? And if it knocks us down in the ranking to do so, who cares? I don't.”
To hear someone say that Kurt's happiness should matter more than placement – to hear David say it, after everything the year before – causes tears to well up in his eyes. To hear every single Warbler agree make those tears fall.
They'd walked out of that meeting stronger than they'd gone in, and Kurt lets himself gather strength from that memory for a few seconds before he steps forward and lets his voice soar.
“Something has changed within me, something is not the same / I'm through with playing by the rules, of someone else's game”
They finish eleventh. It's better than they'd dared to hope, with all the absolutely excellent teams competing. It the joy is tinged with a little bitterness? Who can blame them? Maybe, more than one of them wonders, a more conventional setlist could have placed them among the top ten. At the same time they're all aware that maybe it would have have placed them dead last. There's no way of telling, and no use speculating.
They did their best, enjoyed their performance and finished eleventh at Nationals. That's nothing to look down on. In fact...
“We did better than New Directions last year” Kurt says with a smirk.
They've beaten  his old team, his so-called friends, in every way possible and he allows himself to see that as a win.
Finn posts video of all their songs on his Facebook and is proud (and smug) enough to also post the “Defying Gravity” performance in the Glee group with a comment about how Kurt obviously could hit that note, tagging both Rachel and Mr Schue. It's petty, and Kurt should be big enough of a person to ask Finn to remove it, but no. If his brother wants to stand up for him Kurt isn't just going to let him, he's going to be grateful.
Feeling loved and protected is not something he's ever going to scoff at.
Nationals is followed by finals, the less said about the better, and then prom. Or well, “the Dalton Academy and Crawford County Day Joint Spring Formal”. Same thing right?
Wrong.
The spring formal is every thing junior prom wasn't. It's not really the fact that Sebastian asks Kurt properly to be his date for the formal, and compliments his outfit. It's not that even without decorations Dalton's auditorium is more grand than McKinley's gym. It's not even the grand dinner with lit candles, waiters and three courses before the dance or that there's a band that plays waltzes and foxtrot for the first two hours before the DJ is allowed to take over.
It's that even before they've entered the transformed dining hall Kurt spots half a dozen same-sex couples, a number that keeps going up during the evening. It's the fact that he gets to dance the whole evening, not in a group or with a girl, but with Sebastian and the occasional Warbler. Mostly it's Sebastian's arms he's in, and it's amazing.
It's so far from his junior prom and Blaine that it almost hurts.
“Is there something wrong?”
“No. Everything is... This year everything is perfect.”
Sebastian doesn't look entirely convinced, but decides to drop it and instead lean closer for a kiss.
The evening really is perfect.
The morning of his birthday Kurt walks into the dining hall alone only to be met with a table full of Warblers that stand up and sing for him as soon as he clears the door. There's one place left at the table, next to Sebastian, set with the kind of breakfast not even Dalton serves (fresh croissant, strawberries, a piece of brie and a one-person pot of tea) with a rainbow rose in a vase. Kurt sits down with a smile and leans over to kiss his boyfriend's cheek.
“So, rainbow roses are going to be our thing, is it? I love it.”
He spends the day with a smile on his lips, because his boyfriend took the time to do something special for him on his birthday and his friends have promised cake in the Warblers' room after dinner, and he feels loved.
“Cake” turns out to be cheesecake and presents, and more singing, and so much more smiling. Afterwards Sebastian walks him back to his room. There's no kissing though, which Kurt finds unacceptable.
“Isn't there some kind of rule that you get kisses on your birthday? I would have thought that was a part of the boyfriend experience, and to be honest I'm feeling very much unkissed.”
That nets him a crooked smile, but still no kisses. It's almost enough to worry him.
“You can have all the kisses you want, and not just on your birthday, you know that babe. However, there's something else I wanted you to have first.”
Sebastian pulls out a small package from him pocket and hands it over with a smile, which begins to fade when Kurt doesn't immediately take it. It's just, well.
“Another present? You shouldn't have.”
“Another? What do you mean?”
The truth is that Kurt fully expected breakfast and a rose to be the whole of Sebastian's congratulations, and he doesn't quite know how to take getting more than that. He doesn't really know how to explain it though, and definitely not in a way that won't start Sebastian on another rant about how Blaine was unworthy of Kurt's affection. Especially since it's not just about him.
Turns out he doesn't need to say anything – and apparently he's getting yet another present in the form of the absence of that rant.
“Breakfast was a treat. This is your actual present, which I hope you'll like at least as much as that.”
Sebastian looks a little worried as Kurt removes the paper and opens the small box inside (and if he's a little shaky to open a jewelry box from his boyfriend no one needs to know). It's a pair of gorgeous cufflinks with just the right balance between classy and unique and he absolutely loves them.
“These are amazing! They're too much, really, but they're so gorgeous that I'm going to pretend they're not. I love them!” I love you. But that's a bit too early to say, and so instead he leans forward and does his absolute best to communicate exactly that through kissing.
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andromedasstarship · 3 years
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in the stars - chapter 2
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photo credits - @ssahotchnerr
pairing - aaron hotchner x reader
warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, show rating 16+ for reference. depictions of violence, stalking, murder, angst, age gap couple, language 
summary - You and Aaron reunite, but it’s not exactly anything to celebrate over. The case moves forward, but you really wish it hadn’t like this.  
a/n - no one is allowed to call me out on my lack of LA/california geographical knowledge. ive also started including readers mental thought train which is italicized (flashbacks will also be in italics, but ill always properly mark a flashback). if you arent tagged but asked, just send another ask/reply! i mustve missed it on accident.
blog rules 
masterlist // read it on ao3 here
chapter 1 // chapter 3
-----
Chapter 2 
Aaron Hotchner was standing in front of you. Impeccable, not even a slight crease in his shoes and suit pressed to perfection. He still smelled faintly like cedar, a thought you quickly tried to send away; it was too late though, already remembering how pitiful it was post breakup, when you would smell the shirts he left at your house, a desperate attempt to remember that he existed in your life. You’d spent hours, days even, thinking about how you’d react if you were ever to see Aaron in person again. At the top of the list was screaming at him, really giving him a piece of your mind for leaving the way he did. Or, maybe you’d be cool and composed, the epitome of maturity and ‘I’m Totally Over You’. You’d even considered completely ignoring him, not even giving him a second glance. Instead you were frozen to the spot, staring up at the man who broke your heart. 
Pulling your eyes away from him, they darted towards the gap between his body and outside, internally debating if you’d be able to somehow sneak around him. As if he could read your mind, not like you had been particularly subtle, he moved to close the gap before you had the chance to fully formulate an escape. 
“Y/N,” he tried again, voice a bit firmer this time around. It’d be better if he couldn’t speak. But then again he had such a beautiful voice-. No, you mentally clamped down on that thought before it could lead you down another rabbit hole. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 
“Tell you, uh, what?” You asked, hyper aware of how mousy you must’ve sounded.
“That someone was murdering women that looked like you. You should’ve called my team sooner, it was irresponsible to put yourself at further risk of-” 
“Are you trying to imply that this is somehow my fault, Agent Hotchner?” The words felt bitter on your tongue. It wasn’t like you, to suddenly be so quick to anger. Years in the spotlight had taught you to hold your tongue, but Aaron’s words managed to cut right through. 
“That’s not what I’m saying, you know that-,” he tried to interject, but you weren’t going to back down so easy. 
“I know what Agent? Please, tell me the acceptable response to this situation,” you spat out at him, finding a brief enjoyment in the way his face scrunched up ever so slightly. “The police were working on the case, I’ve dealt with weirdos before.” Aaron opened his mouth again as if to speak, but you weren’t finished, “You really think I believed you’d answer if I called?” 
His face fell at that and you felt some form of internal victory swell in your chest. Y/N 1 point, Aaron Hotchner 0. The victory was short lived though, as you came to the realization that the two of you were still in a very public setting. 
“I’m not going to fight with you Agent, I suggest you get back to your team.” With that you shoved your way past him, stomping the entire way to your car. It was a shame, the way the anger and sadness was consuming you, maybe if it hadn’t, this time you would’ve noticed the clicking coming from the tree line. 
----
Hotch wished you had been angry; it would’ve been easier to handle you if you had been screaming in his face or throwing low-blow comments his way. He could deal with anger. It’d be easier if he could pretend that you were being completely out of line and could warrant being ignored for the rest of the case. 
That wasn’t you though, and he knew this. He didn’t have to be a profiler to see and hear the way you struggled to hold yourself together. He didn’t need to be a profiler to feel how disappointed you were with him. Hotch didn’t know how to deal with this or you.  Even though it had been months, had he truly fallen so far from your graces; was your opinion so lowly of him now? 
Hotch wasn’t sure which was worse to stomach, the fact that you had such little faith in him or the deep rooted feeling in his gut that told him you were right- had you called him unannounced two months ago, he wouldn’t have picked up the phone. 
----
You sat in your car for twenty minutes, at least. It was pitiful, the way you were crying in your car, to a sad playlist, over a guy who hurt your feelings; it felt like high school all over again. In the moment, you had felt good, the way you watched Aaron’s face twist and fall at your words giving you some sick form of satisfaction. 
It’s not like you had lied to him or anything. You hadn’t even stretched the truth for ultimate impact. The whole overly formal ‘Agent’ thing was definitely on purpose though. No, you had meant every word you said to Aaron, especially about not believing he’d answer if you called. What would you have even said if you called and he did pick up? Hi Aaron, remember me? Good, anyway hope you’re doing well but I think I have a murderous stalker, can you help? Actually, that’s probably exactly how the conversation would’ve gone, but that’s beside the point. 
The point was that even if you could trust the Unit Chief of the BAU to do his job, you weren’t sure you could trust Aaron Hotchner anymore. 
----
When you finally did muster up the courage to return to the conference room, you really wished you hadn’t. You should’ve just turned your car on and left. Was it possible to ghost the FBI? You’d heard enough stories from Aaron about how their tech wizard had found people with just a single loose thread, there was definitely no way you were going to make some spy like disappearance. 
Aaron wasn’t in the room, something you were grateful for in the moment. But what you weren’t grateful for was how the team had managed to set up multiple bulletin boards in your absence; filled with your photo, crime scene photos, the dead women and your personal least favorite, the dead women’s bodies. 
Of course, you knew what was going on, you were a big girl, well old enough to understand and process the gravity of the situation. But you’d only seen photos of the women alive, with personality and humanity; something about that made them look less like you and more like them. Looking at them now- dead, eyes closed, faces tilted away from the camera- these women didn’t just look like you, they were you. 
You hadn’t even realized you were drifting closer to one of the boards until you felt a hand pull at the crook of your elbow. Turning your head ever so slightly you saw JJ, giving you one of her nice looks again. 
“Y/N, you don’t need to see these,” JJ started, already pulling you in the opposite direction. You were about to agree, head already halfway to a full nod when you noticed something from the corner of your eye. 
“Wait!” You exclaimed, pulling your arm back and getting right in front of a photo of victim #2. You very gently pulled the photo of the wall and held it closely in front of your face. Were you allowed to move it? Oh well. You felt the rest of the team’s eyes burning holes through your back so you turned to face them. “I, um, I’m pretty sure the sweater she’s wearing is mine.” You said, voice coming out as a whisper. 
The team certainly seemed to liven up at that statement. Even though they hadn’t even been in LA for a full 24 hours yet, it was obvious from the start that LAPD hadn’t been lacking on the case, rather the unsub was just that good. They reported no evidence from any dump sites,- and now those sites had been contaminated far too much to double check- there had been no witnesses for any of the abductions, and the unsub hadn’t attempted any contact with Y/N; all in all, they had nothing. 
“Y/N, are you sure?” Emily asked, she was quickly pulling photos of the other three women down, bringing them over to the roundtable. “Are the women in these photos wearing anything else you recognize?” 
“Yeah, yeah I’m sure. There’s a little hole right there, on the side, the threads were pretty loose and I got stuck on a doorknob once, ripped it right open. I couldn’t find it when I went to fix it, just assumed I threw it away and forgot.” You said quietly, moving your way to the table. Your brain wasn’t working properly, hadn’t quite yet come to the conclusion that the rest of the agents already reached. He had gotten into your house. “Oh my god.” You whispered, voice shaking. “He was in my house, wasn’t he?” 
The agents all looked down at you with sympathetic gazes before Emily finally spoke up again. “We can’t be sure just yet, but I need you to look at these photos and tell me if you recognize anything else okay? Can you do that for me?” 
You nodded, making your way over to the table and taking a seat. You were well aware one of the agents just called for Hotch, but you couldn’t be bothered with that right now. 
----
“Hotch,” Derek said, his voice urgent as he rounded the corner, interrupting whatever conversation Hotch was having with a random officer, “Y/N recognized the sweater victim #2 was wearing at the dumpsite as hers. Emily’s showing her the rest of the photos and it’s looking like the unsub left something of hers on each one.” 
That certainly got Hotch’s attention. He didn’t need Derek to fill in the blank, the unsub had been in your house. His fists tightened at his side and he couldn’t help the way his face twisted in anger. In this state, Derek knew better than to question this unusually personal reaction, instead just angling his body back towards the conference room. He didn’t even have a chance to open his mouth before Hotch brushed past him, making his way back to you. 
----
Starting with a photo of victim #1, you very slowly pulled it closer in front of you. Oh my god, her neck. Obviously, you’ve seen bruises before, been on a whole bunch of film sets that used makeup to create some pretty gory pieces, but nothing like this. The unsub didn’t just stangle these women, it was like he wanted to completely crush their throats. 
One of the agents behind you was questioning your ability to stomach this, so you quickly forced yourself to focus. It was the least you could do for these poor women, just give them your undivided attention for ten minutes, and then you could deal with everything else later.
Your finger traced over the bracelet victim #1 was wearing. “This is mine. There’s a singular heart engraved on the back of the third diamond’s plating. I bought it for myself after I got cast in my first big role, cried for weeks when I ‘lost’ it.” 
“And what about this one?” Emily asked, gently pulling victim #1’s photo away from you and replacing it with #4. You didn’t miss the way she turned the photos you’d already looked at upside down, as if to further shield you from them. Nor did you miss that she was technically skipping victim #3. 
It didn’t take you long to notice what was yours on victim #4. “It’s the dress, it’s really comfy, I used to wear it a lot, like a lot a lot. I brought it with me so often on trips I just assumed it got left in a hotel room somewhere.” 
Emily nodded, taking back that photo and turning it over as well. You could see her hesitation in showing you victim #3, but she slid it across the table to you as well. Her fingertips ghosting on the edge of the photo, ready to pull it back as soon as you gave an answer.
Victim #3 was tough. She looked the most like you, both when she was alive and certainly the way she looked now. 
You took a sharp intake of breath as you looked down at her the first thing that caught your eye was the necklace. Most certainly yours and most certainly the one that Aaron had given you for your three year anniversary. You realized it was lost a few months after the breakup and nearly tore your house apart looking for it; you didn’t have many things from your relationship with Aaron to prove he was once part of your life, making the few things you did have all the more important. “The necklace, there’s an A engraved on the back and I’m pretty sure those shoes are mine too.” Emily swept the photo back and out of view as soon as the last words left your lips. 
“JJ, get those items out of evidence immediately so we can be absolutely sure,” Hotch ordered. Aaron. You hadn’t even realized he had walked into the room, you turned to look at him, eyes wide with sadness and fear. The tears that were beginning to form tugged viciously on his heart.  “Miss L/N, my team and I are going to escort you back to your home and we’re going to need to canvas it for signs of entry and identify if anything else is missing. Is that okay?” He asked, his voice soft with something most of the members couldn’t place. 
You simply nodded at that, glad that you wouldn’t have to be alone, “Do you need my address, or will you just follow my car?” There was definitely humor in that, Aaron already knew exactly where you lived and the code to get through the gates. 
“Your address is already in our files, but for your safety we’ll be following close behind.” He assured you. The rest of the team was jumping into action, grabbing their personal belongings along with copious amounts of gloves and bags you assumed would be for potential evidence. 
As you all exited the building and entered your respective vehicles, it was Reid who realized where he’d heard that softness in Hotch’s voice before. It was the same tone he used to use with Hayley, back when things were good. 
----
Your house wasn’t far and it was a drive you knew well; grateful for the ability to somewhat distract yourself on the road. The gatesman to your development gave you a real odd look when you told him the two black SUV’s filled with FBI agents were with you, but you couldn’t care less about which neighbor he might spread that info too. Did you see? L/N brought in the FBI, wonder what she’s caught up in. At least all the neighbors and workers had signed airtight NDAs, no one was allowed to talk to any outsiders about the personal happenings of their fellow residents. 
Your house was towards the top of the hill, with a great overlook to the ocean. You had only been 20 when you bought the house and you viewed it as the ultimate achievement of all your hard work and determination. You couldn't shake the bad taste in your mouth as you pulled up the driveway. The house felt tainted now, something you were never sure you’d be able to shake. 
----
Once again, not exactly how you imagined the entire team entering your house for the first time. Your house was extensive, as were the grounds; the team quickly realized they would probably be here for the rest of the day and well into the night.
You were standing awkwardly in the middle of your foyer, unsure of how to exactly approach this situation. “So, there’s about 10 rooms in the house, not including the kitchen and general living spaces, as well with the basement which is technically one big room. I made maps once as a joke, I think I have some in the office, if you wanted those? Or we could do one big house tour and you can break off that way,” you were so rambling, but them being in your house and why they were in your house was setting in, “or you can just go off however you want-” 
“Miss L/N,” JJ said, there was that nice look again, “why don’t you show me around the house so I can get a base level understanding of everything there is. The rest of my team will go start a basic canvas of the inside and the grounds as well.” Thank you JJ. 
You nodded at this, glad that someone else was taking control of the situation. Before you could lead JJ towards the kitchen, your phone started to ring, startling you. When did you get this skittish? 
“My friend is calling,” you said, holding up your phone, “I gotta take this, I was supposed to meet him for coffee a few minutes ago.” You excused yourself, quickly making your way to an empty room away from the rest of the team. Your friend was annoyed at your more than last minute cancellation, but luckily he didn’t pry too hard and accepted your flimsy “I’m not feeling too well’ excuse on the first go. 
“I know, I’m sorry, but I promise I’ll make it up to you as soon as I feel better. Yeah, I love you too. I gotta go, bye.” As you hung up, you could feel a gaze burning into the back of your head. Turning around, you found Aaron staring down at you from the doorway. How long had he been there? 
“You should have told us about your boyfriend sooner. Trying to protect him from questioning will only-”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you exclaimed, a bit too hurriedly, “I, uh, I’m not seeing anyone at all actually, haven’t in a while.” Smooth. 
Aaron was smart enough to read through the lines and understand what you had left unsaid. His gaze didn’t give up, but you could’ve swore you saw relief somewhere in his eyes. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to say something, or if he was supposed to say something, or should you walk out, or- 
“Neither have I.” Hotch’s voice broke through your thoughts, but just as quickly as he said it, he turned on his heel and left you alone in the room.
----
a/n - if anyone is wondering ive 100% cried multiple times at how kind and supportive everyone has been with me about this story. we’re only 2 chapters in but im already sad for it to end. yes i 100% have a bunch of other wip ideas for hotch. anywaaaaaaay, replies/asks/comments/reblogs/likes always appreciated! thank you so much for reading 
Taglist: @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp
no permission is given to republish or upload my fics anywhere else. if you see this story not on my tumblr or ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own criminal minds or any of the characters involved
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tirednerd2012 · 3 years
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I have an idea if you want to write something REALLY angsty. Suppose Ian is taken by someone who has knowledge of potions? But their knowledge is on the extreme side, and they believe that because Ian is a wizard, his body has magical properties, so they want to experiment. It starts off small: a lock of hair, a sample of blood, a nail clipping, etc. But it gets worse, and their goal is to drain and dismember him so they can use his body parts for potions in the future.
Guys, this has some serious torture in it. Lots of mentions of blood and has some heavy parts. Please don't hate me because Ian goes through absolute hell in this. Read with caution if you must.
Ian felt like there was something off with his new math teacher. The guy was always studying him, asking him questions and making sure Ian knew every answer. Maybe he wouldn't think much of it if he did it with the other students, but his attention always seemed to be on Ian. It made him insanely uncomfortable.
He mentioned it to Barley and his brother said to be cautious about it, but as long as he didn't harm Ian, it should be okay. He didn't sound so confident about it, but Ian decided to let it go.
"Ian, can you see me after school? I need to talk to you about your test," Mr. Clarke told him.
"Uh, sure, is everything okay?" he asked.
"We'll talk about it after school. Have fun at lunch," Mr. Clarke sent him off.
Ian walked out of the classroom feeling sick. He thought about texting Barley, but decided against it. No need to worry him. He told him that he would be late because he had to meet with a teacher and Barley responded that was fine, he had to pick up some books at the library for his homework anyway.
He thought again, but knew Barley would try something and get them both into trouble. Besides, it would only be 10 minutes alone with the guy, what could go wrong?
Apparently a lot.
Ian went there after school and his teacher smiled at him.
"Ian! Good, don't worry, this won't take too long. You actually did incredible on your test," Mr. Clarke said. "It seems like your magic isn't the only thing special about you."
"Uh, thanks? So, why did you want me here?" Ian asked. He knew his friends had gotten hundreds on the test, so it wasn't like he was the only one who did well.
"Oh, I needed an excuse of course," Mr. Clarke responded.
"What do you- dude, what's your deal?" Ian snapped. He tried to make his way out, but Mr. Clarke grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against the wall. Ian fell and Clarke tied his arms together.
"Let-!" he tried to scream, but Clarke put a gag in his mouth.
"You see, Ian, a wizard's body has magical properties. Your blood is rare, but so is everything about you. And I can use it. I just have to get you back to my lab," he said. Ian tried to struggle, but Clarke was stronger than he looked. He picked up Ian's phone out of his pocket and dropped it on the ground. Then he brought something out of his pocket and brought it to Ian's face. "When you wake up, you'll be part of my greatest experiment."
Everything faded as his body felt limp.
When he woke up, he was strapped to a metal bed. Beside him was a table of sharp, steel tools. He was in his underwear and surrounded by IV bags and needles. He tried to get up, but the straps held him in place.
"Struggle all you want, kid, you're not going anywhere," Mr. Clarke's voice rang. Ian looked over and saw his math teacher beside him with a smile.
"Who the hell are you!?" he demanded. "Let me go!"
"I'm just... someone who knows a lot about potions. Been using them by entire life, actually. My father brewed them and taught me everything he knew," he explained as he got a needle ready. "There are powerful potions that can be made from a wizard, but they went extinct, until you, of course. Your father kept himself hidden, and you should have advised you to do the same."
"Look, man, my step dad is a cop and my mom and brother are crazy, they'll find me and make you sorry," Ian warned.
"There's not going to be anything left of you once I'm finished."
His voice was cold and taunting. He brought the needle up to Ian and despite how hard he struggled, he filled several tubes with his blood. He puts it on the table and then cuts some of Ian's hair. Then he took everything he collected and went to a table on the other side of the room.
Ian tried screaming bloody murder, but the man seemed unaffected.
"Ian, you are in a soundproof room hidden away in my basement. Scream and cry all you want. You're going to scream, but no one will hear you. No one is coming to save you."
"What are you going to do to me?" Ian asked. His throat tightened and he was shaking. He wasn't sure if it was from fear or the cold.
"I'm going to collect what I need until there's nothing left. The real treat awaits when I go for your heart, but we have plenty of time. It's going to be painful as hell for you. I would offer something to ease it, but I can't have anything in your system that could ruin the potions."
"You're going to go for my heart?" Ian asked, tears threatening to spill as he continued to struggle. He felt his wrists starting to rub raw under the thick, leather, but he didn't care.
"Yes, and unfortunately for you, I'm going to have to cut it out of you while you're alive. Keeps it fresh," he answered and sent Ian a smile that told him he wasn't really sorry about that detail.
"My family will find me. My brother knows I met with you after school and he's not going to stop until he finds me," Ian warned. "Barley may seem like a nice guy, but whatever you do to me is nothing compared to what he's going to do to you."
"Really? Well, I don't see him here," he said. Ian watched him pour his blood into the bowl and then think to himself for a moment. "Maybe I need something else."
He walked over and grabbed a pair of pliers and ripped one of Ian's fingernails off. The Lightfoot cried out and the man smiled, towering over him.
"I'm really going to enjoy our couple of weeks together," he said. He drew more blood, until Ian's left arm stopped giving him. "We have time, Ian, don't worry. I won't kill you yet."
Ian would rather have died than continued to go through this hell.
Three days. Ian had been missing for three days now. Barley was about to lose his salvation. He destroyed that entire school looking and cussed everyone out when there was no Mr. Clarke the creepy math teacher.
He never should have brushed it off. They found Ian's cellphone in the math room, but apparently Mr. Clarke didn't work for the school, even though multiple students and even some teachers say he had been there. He even broke into the security office and turned off all the cameras.
His mom cried with him. He held her and promised her they would find him. He wouldn't stop or give up. Even Corey was flying around searching. Colt had multiple search parties and warrants, but everything came up empty handed.
"Did you hear about Ian? Still missing," he heard someone at the gas station say. They hadn't seen him come in.
"Honestly, do they think he's still alive?" another girl asked, but then hushed as Barley walked past to the register. He filled up his van and went back driving. He drove until it was 3 in the morning, answering all of his mom's calls.
Colt pulled up beside him as he stopped the van and cried. Now it was 4 days.
"Barley, go home. You need rest."
"I can't sleep."
"I'll continue the search," his step father promised.
"Colt, you don't get it. I can't sleep without seeing him, alone and by himself," Barley snapped. "I can't find him anywhere. He's just gone and he needs me and he told me he got these weird feelings from this teacher and I ignored it. He warned me about this and I ignored it!"
"Barley, stop!" Colt snapped, opening the car door and Barley collapsed to the ground. He was exhausted. He couldn't keep doing this. He needed to find Ian. "This is not your fault, do you understand me?"
"But-."
"No buts! This is not on you. You can't burden yourself with that. You listen to me and you listen good, we are going to find him," Colt cut in. Barley had never heard him this serious before. "You're right. Ian does need you. But he needs you at your best, not when you're too tired to actually think and help find him. Go home and sleep. I will keep the search going and if I find out anything, you and your mother will be the first people I tell."
"I just want him back, Colt," Barley said, trying to stop his tears.
"I know and we're going to get him back. He'll be home soon."
Ian didn't know if he could keep going. Clarke cut the tip of his ear and then laughed at Ian's pain. He didn't even know how long he had been here. He tried to hold on to hope, but he didn't think it was going to help.
"You know, maybe that brother you talked so highly about is glad you're gone. Sounds like you cause him nothing but trouble."
Ian wanted to tell him that he was full of shit. He didn't want to believe it, but he did. Barley wasn't here. Was he looking? Ian wanted to say yes, but the pain was all he could focus on.
Clarke was giving him just enough to keep him alive. Everything he needed was in the IV.
"This one is going to hurt, Ian," he warned. He had a butcher knife in his hands and Ian still tried to struggle to no avail. He placed a towel down and then held Ian's wrist.
"What are you doing? Stop! Stop!" Ian begged, but he knew nothing would come of it. He heard a crunch and his hand felt like it was on fire. He screamed and Clarke stopped the bleeding. He looked up and saw his left thumb was gone.
Ian cried and he wanted Barley there. He felt like a small child crying out for his brother in the middle of the night again, but Barley wasn't coming this time. His brother had no idea where he was.
He was going to die.
After two more days and more searching, Barley slept, passed out from exhaustion to the point where he couldn't go on anymore, but he only saw a house. He was able to walk in it and he felt drawn to the basement. He followed his instincts and was led downstairs to a secret door. He opened it and saw Ian, strapped to a metal table. A lunatic was hovered over him with a butcher knife and cut his left thumb off.
Ian screamed in pain and Barley screamed in horror. The man wrapped Ian's hand and then walked over to the table and threw it into some kind of concoction. Barley went to Ian's side to see a sight he never wanted to. Ian, covered in cuts, with an IV in his hand. He had the tip of his right ear missing and he was sobbing in pain over his latest injury.
"I can't wait to cut your heart out, Ian. Once I complete that potion, I will be powerful. I will have your abilities, plus some strengths that you haven't had enough time to master," the man said. Barley would kill him. And the last few moments of his life would be hell.
"Barley," Ian cried.
"I'm here, Ian, I'm here," Barley said, but his little brother couldn't hear him.
"Keep crying for him, he's not coming, Ian," the man said. Ian continued to cry to himself, mumbling Barley's name until he passed out.
Barley was pulled out of the dream and woke with a jump. He looked around and grabbed his keys. He knew where Ian was. He ran out of his room and saw his mom asleep on the couch. Tears stained her cheeks.
"I'll be back, Mom," he promised, softly. "I'll be back with Ian."
He drove as fast as he could. The house from his dream was just a block over and Barley hated himself more. Ian was right there the whole time, but he had no idea. Barley stopped the car and busted the door open. He listened. Nothing.
He looked around the house, but no one was there. Then he remembered the basement. He held his sword in his hand as he made his way down. Sure enough, he found the door in the back. He busted it open and saw the man from his dreams and Ian on the table.
"Barley!" Ian cried out in relief. His brother looked worse than he did in Barley's nightmare. Barley could see his ribs. Ian was covered in bruises and cuts and so much more that Barley felt like he could be sick.
He looked at the man and six days of worry, anger, resentment, stress and heartbreak unleashed itself.
"I'm going to fucking kill you for this," Barley snapped. He didn't even recognize his own voice. The man seemed terrified, which he should have been. He tried to get away, but Barley gripped his sword and pierced the guy's chest. "Not so fucking tough when someone's strapped to a damn table, huh?"
"Barley," Ian called and they locked eyes. He took out his sword, now covered in blood, and walked over and undid all the straps. Before he could do anything else, Ian threw his arms around Barley's neck and sobbed.
"Ian, it's alright. I'm here now. You're safe. I'm here. You're safe. He can't hurt you," Barley promised, wrapping his arms around Ian as well. They both cried in each other's arms. Finally, Barley collected himself and pulled away from Ian, but kept one arm around him as he called Colt.
"Barley? I still don't-."
"I found him. He needs an ambulance. 165 Mushroom Street."
"But that's right-."
"Right down the black, I know. Long story. But, um, Colt, I think I killed the guy who took him," Barley said, looking over at the body of the bastard who hurt Ian. Ian still hadn't let go of him and Barley didn't complain. He wanted to rip that IV out of his arm, but he didn't want to make it worse. He needed the paramedics.
"It's alright, I'm on my way. You did it in defense. No one's going to blame you for that bastard's death," Colt said, trying to sooth him. But Barley was surprisingly calm. He was in a stranger's house. He just fucking killed a guy. But Ian was back. He was right in his arms. Barley could feel his heartbeat and the way Ian hung on to him.
"Get here soon. He has an IV in his arm and needs medical attention," he said, but they hung up the phone on each other. He held on to Ian like he was his lifeline.
"You found me," Ian said.
"Never stopped looking for you. I-I think you actually found me somehow," Barley said and explained his dream.
"I remember that. Barley that was days ago, but I wanted you at that moment maybe I did a magic thing. Did you really not sleep for two days?"
"Don't worry about that," Barley responded.
The paramedics arrive and soon enough they were on their way to the hospital. Ian was admitted. His mom ran in and hugged Barley while they waited.
"Barley! Oh my gosh, my boys!" she cried as she got to him.
"Mom, they're treating him now. He's going to be okay, though."
"How did you find him?" she asked and Barley explained the dream and then leaving immediately. She shook his head and cried again as she held onto him.
"He's going to be alright, that's all that matters," Barley responded.
A few hours later, they were able to see Ian. He had been bandaged up and connected to several tubes and IVs, but he was alive. He was there and alive. They spent several hours with him, but eventually their mom allowed Barley to stay the night with him.
"Barley, can you please get some sleep?" Ian asked. They were both exhausted, but Barley was afraid if he closed his eyes, he would wake up and Ian would be gone all over again.
"You need sleep," Barley responded.
"So do you," Ian said. He reached out and put his hand on Barley's arm. He looked at his older brother with dark circles under his eyes and he felt like he could cry all over again. "Come on, please. For me?"
"Are you seriously worried about me right now?"
"You haven't stopped shaking since you found me and you-we both saw what you did."
"I had to be sure he wouldn't hurt you again."
"And trust me, I get it. I would have done the same, but we have to keep ourselves together right now. There are going to be more threats. We need rest now."
He hated the idea of more threats coming after his little brother, but he knew that it was true. He nodded and adjusted in the chair right beside Ian. They both fell asleep, but apparently when their mom came to check on them in the morning, Barley had his arm out over Ian, as if to protect him from anything that came near his brother and Ian had his hand on the arm.
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khiphop-stories · 4 years
Text
Getting Off The Wrong Foot
[Christian Yu | Chapter XI]
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Previous Chapters:
Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X
“Are you falling for me too?“ He asked, his eyes locked with yours. Your widened eyes rested on him, not blinking. You spent a few seconds staring at him, your brain unable to formulate a thought. It was a question you didn’t expect at all, especially not coming for him.
“You’re worried? Wanna make a run for it?“ You then broke out into a deep rumbling laughter. Joking - that’s how you dealt with situations you weren’t comfortable with. He couldn’t have been serious anyway, could he? But unlike yours, his face showed no sign of amusement. Usually he would join you and laugh at your jokes, even if they weren’t funny to begin with. But this time, not a muscle on his face twitched. He looked at you deadpan. Was he afraid that you might cling onto him like other girls did? Was he afraid to lose his freedom?
“You’ve been a good friend to me, plus the sex is good. But that’s it. You’re safe. Nothing to be worried about. I’m not falling for you, Christian,” you assured him and you meant it. How could you fall in love with him, when your heart still belonged to someone else? He sighed shortly. Was it a sigh of relief or disappointment? You couldn’t read the expression on his face nor could you guess what was going through his mind right now. You had agreed early on that this would only be physical thing. Why was he suddenly worried about it turning into something more? Admittedly you were a hopeless romantic, but you weren’t over Kiseok yet and he knew, it was the reason you slept with him in the first place. If you had met him under different circumstances, maybe then things would have been different. But there was no room, to think about what ifs. 
“Good, ‘cause I’m really not looking for a relationship,” he then said with a confidence that didn’t sound very convincing, but you shook it off with a shrug. You didn’t want to start questioning him now.
“Good, me neither,” you agreed with him.
~*~
Keeping up the act was quite exhausting and you were slowly beginning to regret having agreed to it in the first place. It didn’t cross your mind that fooling his family wouldn’t be as easy as you had imagined. They knew him inside out while you barely had gotten to know him. You spent most of your time with physical activities and afterwards you were both so exhausted you would go straight to sleep. There was no room for pillow talks. So when his relatives told you stories about him, it felt as though they were describing a completely different person, a stranger. You learned a lot more about him in the span of a few hours than you did over the past few weeks. Ever since you stepped inside this house your entire body felt tensed, you were in constant fear that someone might see through it. Despite your worries, the afternoon went by without any mishaps on your part. You just had to endure a couple more hours, before you could go home, you thought to yourself. But before you could face his relatives again, you needed a moment to yourself. A moment where you could be yourself, not Christian’s fake girlfriend. When nobody was paying attention to you, you quickly escaped to the balcony that was attached to the living room. You took a slow controlled breath and attempted to loosen your body movements. You felt the fresh spring breeze fill your lungs. Winter hadn’t fully passed yet, it was still rather cold outside. Crossing your arms, you leaned them against the railing. Your eyes watched the sun slowly setting behind the buildings at the horizon. The sun casted it golden rays down upon the rooftops, painting the sky shades of orange and pink. Taking this beautiful sight in, your body could finally relax a little.
You heard the balcony door open and close behind you. You didn’t turn around, because you knew the sound of those footsteps. Christian stepped next to you and also leaned against the railing, his eyes following yours, taking in the picture-perfect sight in front of you.
“Are you cold?” He asked when he saw how lightly you were dressed. Without waiting for your answer, he slid the suit jacked down his shoulders, but you stopped him midway. You pulled it back over his shoulders, adjusting it neatly.
“Keep it on. You just recovered from your cold,” you reminded him. He had been lying sick in bed the past few days. Since his fever was quite high you dropped by almost every day after work to check on him. He didn’t really have anyone else to take care of him so you took it upon yourself. It was in your nature as the elder sister to worry too much. You were used to taking care of your sick brother, it wasn’t any different with Christian. It were the same symptoms and you knew exactly what he needed to heal quickly. 
“I’m sorry,” he apologized out of the blue.
You turned your head to the side, looking at him through narrowed eyes. You didn’t understand what he was apologzing for. “My family can be a pain in the arse.”
You shook your head at him with a little smile planted on your lips. “They’re lovely people.” “You think?”
“My family is not that big. I only have an uncle. He never had kids so I’ve never experienced something like this. It’s quite fun, except for the interrogation part,” you chuckled lightly. It was the first time you experienced a family reunion like this. Your own family wasn’t that close, you never met up for holidays or birthdays. Your uncle only ever called when he needed something. 
“You’re lucky my aunt hasn’t found the time to talk to you yet,” he told you playfully as he lightly nudged your elbow with his. “I don’t think she can be worse than your cousins.”
“Why? What did they do?” A wide grin played on his lips.
“They asked way too many questions! It felt like my brain was exploding coming up with lies to tell,” you whined. “What kind of questions did they ask?” “How we met, who confessed first, if you’re romantic, how our sex life is, if you treat me good,—“
“Our sex life?” Christian repeated with arched brows. You could see the smug smirk on his lips even though he was trying to hide it. Of course, out of everything you had said, it was that part that caught his attention. “What did you say?” “I said it was good,” you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, deciding to completely omitting the part where you fantasized about him.
“Just good? That’s an understatement, you make me look bad!” He grabbed his chest, pretending to feel offended. “You should have said that I am the best you ever had.”
“That would’ve been a lie though,” you immediately retorted without thinking.
“I’m not your best?” He asked you in a high-pitched voice, looking at you in disbelief. “Who is then?”
Christian was, but you didn’t want to admit it to someone whose ego was as big as his. No, you would never admit it to him, because then you wouldn’t hear the end of it. “Kiseok?” He took a guess as you didn’t answer his question. Even now you remained silent. “The way you described him I thought he was a rather selfish lover. Guess he was doing something right,” he then said trying to provoke a reaction from you. Suddenly Christian shifted in his position. He stood in front of you, his hands grabbing the railing, his arms either side of you trapping you in between. 
“Let me redeem myself, then.” He leaned his muscular body against yours, pressing your back against the cold railing. You felt a shiver run down your spine. “I’ll be the best you ever had.” One of his hand slid under your dress, pushing the soft fabric up your thighs. Then it worked its way to your butt, giving it a tight squeeze. His head moved closer and  he covered your mouth with his in a hungry kiss.
“Your family, Christian,” you reminded him sharply as you were struggling to push him away. Truth be told, you actually didn’t want him to stop there, but you weren’t going to embarrass yourself today. Not in front of so many strangers that he called his family. It was only a glass door that separated you from his entire family. Even though they couldn’t see you because of the thick curtain hanging over the door, it was too risky. Somebody could have come barging  in at any given moment. 
“I don’t think I can wait ‘till we get home,” he groaned at the loss of contact. He tried to kiss you again, but you quickly turned your head to the side. Then you felt something hard pressing against your lower abdomen. You lowered your gaze and your jar dropped open at the sight of the bulge in his pants. “You’re unbelievable, Christian,” you shook your head at him as you threw him a glare.
“I can’t help it,” he whined. He bit down on his bottom lip as his eyes caressed your body. 
“You look so sexy today,” he whispered in your ear, before kissing your ear lobe. You felt his hot, uncontrolled breath brushing against your skin. “C’mon, Min.” “Nope,” you shook your head. “Your whole family is right on the other side of the door!”
“Don’t make me beg for it,” he whispered in a pleading tone. He almost had you there, the expression on his face, his deep voice and the way he was looking at you. It was too much for you to handle, you needed to get out of there, before you would give in to him. 
“Take care of it yourself,” you told him, trying to sound as cold and sharp as possible. You smoothly wriggled out of his arms and walked towards the door. “Fuck,” a deep groan left his mouth. “Can you at least stay with me until…my dick has calmed down.”
“Fine,” you turned back again and walked towards him as your eyes mustered him.
“Shit, Minhee, don’t look at me like that. It’s not helping,” he complained out of the blue. “That’s my face!” “Turn around,” he ordered. Not waiting for you to follow his instructions, he grabbed your shoulders and turned you the other way. He closed his eyes, trying to distract himself, trying not to think about the things he wanted to do with you. But the image of your naked body kept reappearing inside of his head and he was getting more and more turned on by the second. “I just took a huge dump today,” you said out of the blue. His eyes shot open. “What?” “It was really nasty and it smelt horribly.” You thought the more disgusting the story you invented was, the quicker his erection would disappear.
“That’s information I didn’t need to know.”
“Did it help though?” “Not at all,” he shook his head with a laugh.“I’m gonna go to the restroom.You need to cover for me though.” He walked behind you so nobody could see his little friend down there. When you reached the restroom, you parted with him. You went back to the living room where the party was at. As you were standing in the room like a lost puppy, his mother walked over to you and kept you company. Although she did ask you a couple questions, she didn’t make you feel like you were being interrogated. The way she was speaking to you, you were the one that wanted to tell her more about yourself. That’s the power she had. You ended up revealing a bit more about yourself than you had originally planned. 
“To be honest, I was a bit scared he wouldn’t be able to love again after Nayeon.”
It was the first time someone mentioned the name of his ex and judging by the how softly she spoke about her, she must have liked her quite a bit. His ex must have gotten along well with his mother. She probably fooled her just like she had Christian wrapped around her fingers. But how was what you were doing right now any different to how his ex played everybody? You weren’t being truthful either, so how could you condemn someone else for doing exactly what you were doing right now.
“He’s someone with a big heart. He just needs to find the right person to give it to. I’m really glad he’s found you. When he told me about you he was grinning from ear to ear. I missed that boyish, carefree look on him. He seems to be really fond of you.” “I don’t think so,” you blurted out without thinking. His mother had such high hopes for you, it didn’t feel right to be lying to her.
“Don’t say something like that, dear. Rome wouldn’t introduce a girl he wasn’t serious about to the family. And I can see why he likes you so much.” “No…he…I-I mean…” you stuttered when you couldn’t find the right words to explain the situation. “We’re not really dating. I’m sorry for lying to you,“ you blurted out without thinking.
“If you’re not his girlfriend, then…” His mother looked at you confused. “I’m just a friend. He asked me to come, because his aunts were pressuring him so much. I’m really sorry.” “It’s ok, dear. My sisters can be kind of…obtrusive sometimes,” she agreed with a laugh. She didn’t seem to be caught off guard by the new information. You expected her to be angry with you, but she seemed to be taking it rather relaxed.  
“But your son is a really great guy. I’m sure he’ll find the right person,” you meant what you said. Those were probably the first true words that you had said today. 
“Sometimes you miss the forest for the trees.”
“What do you mean?” “Never mind. There he is, I’ll leave you two alone,” she nodded to Christian who had just  appeared in the crowd. 
~*~
“What were you talking about with my mum?” “I kinda fucked up. I’m sorry,” you admitted straight away as you swallowed down. “What happened?”
“I couldn’t lie to your mom. She knows we’re just pretending.” You expected him to be angry. He had been a great emotional support to you without asking for anything in return. It was only one simple favor, yet you couldn’t even manage to get through the day without messing up. “Well, it’s my mum,” he sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “She probably knew anyway.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Why would I be?” He looked at you dumbfounded as he let out a laugh. “I got my aunts off my back. That’s what I wanted in the first place.”
“I’ll go get some drinks.” “No,” you hurriedly grabbed his hand, pulling him back. “Please don’t leave me alone with your family,” you said with panic in your eyes. You weren’t sure you would survive another interrogation by his cousins. 
“Okay,” he chuckled softly. “I won’t leave your side.” “You can let me go, you know?” He looked down and your eyes followed his. You didn’t realize you were still holding his hand until he pointed it out.
“Sorry,” you quickly pulled your hand back as if touching fire while an awkward chuckle left your lips.
~*~
[Time leap]
“Mum, we’re heading home first. Minhee has a meeting early in the morning.“
“Where is she?“ His mother looked left and right, searching for you.”She’s waiting in the car.“ Christian wanted to bid goodbye to his mother, but after the incident between you and his mother, it didn’t feel right to appear in front of her again. You felt too guilty for lying.
“Confess to her before it’s too late.“ “What?“ He looked at his mother with big eyes, completely startled by her words. “Mum, it’s not like that. I just asked her to pretend to be my girflfriend, so I won’t have to go on those stupid blind dates.“ “Rome, when do you ever learn that you cannot deceive your own mother? I know my son. And I know when he is in love.”
“I’m not in love with her. Really. She’s a just good friend,“ he denied again as he shook his head. He knew once his mother was set on something, there was no changing her mind whether she was actually right or wrong. But why was he so adamant in proving her wrong right now? Whom was he trying to convince?
“Don’t wait too long or you might miss your chance.“
“I don’t even like her that way. Neither does she,” he tried to explain to his mother. 
“I see the way you look at her. That’s not the look of someone who’s looking at his friend…” “Mum, it’s really not like that. She’s a good friend…and she’s in love with someone else anyway. She was just trying to help me out because I asked her.”
“If you wait too long to acknowledge your feelings, you might lose her.”
~*~
Ever since Christian returned to the car he had been rather quiet. He didn’t talk a lot throughout the ride and it made you wonder if you had said something to irritate him. You tried to backtrack your conversations with him. He didn’t seem angry when you had told him that his mother knew the truth. He was still goofing around with you afterwards. It was only after he went in again to say goodbye to his mother that his mood suddenly changed. It must have had something to do with his mother, you concluded. “Did your mom scold you? I’m sorry. It just didn’t feel right to lie to her.“ “Nah everything’s good,“ Christian quickly shook it off and gave you a reassuring smile. It was a half-hearted smile. You could tell his mind was somewhere else and he didn’t put in much effort to hide it. 
“Why are you so quiet then?“ You probed further. “I’m just a bit tired.“ He closed his eyelids and crossed his arms in front of his chest, sinking into the seat. You reached out one of your hands while the other held the wheel, your eyes still focused on the roads. You touched his forehead to check his temperature which made him flinch. “What are you doing?“ He pushed himself into an upright position, his full attention now on you. “Checking your temperature.“ “I’m good.“ “You sure?“ His forehead was warm, it wasn’t quite a fever yet, but it wasn’t the normal  body temperature either. “I’m fine, Minhee,“ he chuckled.
“Then what’s going through your mind?“
Christian looked away from you, then down at his shoes. Still not meeting your eyes, he touched the watch on his wrist and played with it for a moment. The car remained utterly silent. You heard the sound of his breaths, irregular and shaky. 
“What you said earlier…”
“What exactly?“ You had spent the entire day with him and his family, you had said a lot of things to him. It was impossible to remember everything or guess what he was referring to. “You said you’re not falling in love with me.“ “You’re still worried about that?“ You chuckled, your shoulders falling in relief. You thought it was something serious, but if it was only that bothering him, he had nothing to worry about. “How can you be so sure? I mean it’s possible that you do, isn’t it?“
You spent a moment thinking about it, but you couldn’t imagine dating him, or dating anyone in general right now. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen.“ “Why not?“ “You’re not my type,“ you answered shortly and simply. “What is your type?“ “Well, for starters someone who’s not afraid of commitment.“
“I’ve been in relationships,“ he pointed out matter-of-factly. 
“I know, but…you don’t want to be in one right now, do you?“
“Where did you get that idea?”
“You said that! And you’re not really making an effort in meeting someone or going on dates.”
He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t say anything. After all you were right and he couldn’t dispute that. He was way too busy to meet someone new and go on dates. Getting to know someone was a time-consuming activity and he didn’t have time left to spare. The time he had, he wanted to spend with you. 
“Ian, you don’t have to worry,” you assured him again. “I don’t even wanna be in a  romantic relationship right now, neither do you. I want some time for myself, you know. Just focusing on work and myself, I’ve been neglecting that for too long. It’s just sex, no feelings involved.” You words were supposed to give him assurance. You thought that was what he wanted to hear, but they had a different effect him. Christian remained silent again. He glanced out of the window, then at his feet. His gaze danced around, avoiding yours. 
”If you’re that worried that I might catch feelings, we could just stop-”
“I don’t wanna stop,” he replied almost immediately as though it was a reflex. “What is it that you want then?”
He didn’t answer that question, because he knew he couldn’t have what he wanted. He’d be asking for too much. “You’re right,” he let out a shaky breath. For a moment, there was no sound. 
“Let’s stop.”
~*~
You parked his car in the underground garage of his apartment. You turned off the engine and pulled out the keys, before returning them to their owner.
“I can’t drive you home, because I drank,” he said with an apologetic look on his face.
“I know, I’ll just take a cab.” “You can stay, you know,” he offered as he awkwardly scratched the back his head. “And do what?” Whenever one of you stayed for the night, there was only one purpose. But sex was out of question now that you both came to the mutual agreement to stop. Staying for the night and not sleeping with each other seemed weird to you. It felt wrong.  
“Right…” he let out an awkward chuckle. “Text me, when you’re home.”
~*~
[Time leap]
You were brushing you hair when you heard the sound of the door bell. You hurriedly walked to the intercom while your hands were busy tying your hair into a bun which was rather difficult without a mirror. At times like these, you wondered why you let your hair grow that long in the first place. It would be a lot easier if you just chopped everything off. You turned on the speaker function and told Christian that you would be down in a minute. 
“I’ll come upstairs.”
“Why?” You wondered, but still pressed the button to open the door. I felt a bit weird, he hadn’t taken a step inside your apartment since you both agreed to stop the physical activities. All you ever did at home was related to sex, that’s why you never bothered to invite him in again.You left your apartment door ajar so he could enter himself and stepped in front of the mirror to fix your bun. You heard the door closing, before Christian appeared in front of you. He was carrying a small wooden box in his hands.
“What’s that?” Your eyes followed him. 
“Peaches,” he answered shortly before he led himself into your kitchen with you following behind. He placed it down on the kitchen counter. Clapping his hands together, to wipe off the dust. You stepped next to him and took a peak inside. 
“My aunt grows them in her garden. She sent me two boxes of it and told me to share them with my girlfriend,“ he said with emphasis on the last word. “The perks of being Rome’s fake girlfriend,” you said playfully as you took a quick look at the peaches. They looked delicious. Smiling to yourself, you felt a warm and fuzzy feeling, a feeling you weren’t unfamiliar with. Kiseok’s parents had a little farm where they grew their own crops and they would always sent you some. They made you feel welcomed and loved, just like Christian’s family did. The only difference was that their friendliness was based on a lie. You weren’t really deserving of it.
“Let’s go.” Christian saw the subtle change in your facial expression, so he tried to divert your attention to something else. You quickly grabbed a jacket and followed him to the elevator which really took its time. 
“You sure you wanna watch that movie?” He asked you out of the blue. “Why? What’s wrong with it? I heard it was good.” “I read some reviews…” His face turned dark.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared?“ You broke out into rumbling laughter. You didn’t think he would be scared of horror movies. He always gave a reliable and gutsy impression, someone who wasn’t scared of anything. 
“A little bit?“ He chuckled shyly. “I mean…you should have read the reviews!“ “You said you liked horror movies!” “I don’t.” Since none of your friends wanted to watch that movie with you, you had bothered Christian for over a week until he finally gave in.
“Why did you agree then?” “‘Cause I missed you.”
Your body froze for a brief moment as you blinked at him, a sudden warmth shooting through your body. 
“Now you’re just sweet-talking me,“ you chuckled lightly as you rolled your eyes.
“Did it work though?“ He grinned at you playfully. 
“A little bit,“ you winked at him with a smile.
“So we’re not watching that stupid horror movie?“
“Well, I don’t want you to wet your pants at night,“ you took this perfect opportunity to tease, a smirk spreading across your face.
In this moment a high-pitched tone indicated that the elevator had just arrived. The door slid open, revealing a silhouette standing on the other side. You didn’t pay much attention as you were immersed in the conversation with Christian. Without looking, you walked straight into the elevator. Christian quickly pulled you back, stopping you from bumping into the person in front of you. Confused you looked up, your entire body froze and a string of nerves tightened in your ribs upon seeing that familiar face.
“Kiseok…,” you whispered to yourself, still not believing your eyes. 
“Can we talk?” He asked you with caution, his voice sounded soft. 
“I-I…actually have plans right now.” You wanted the words to be firm, strong, but instead your voice was shaking. You glanced at Christian, with your eyes you pleaded him to help you to get out of this sticky situation, but he didn’t seem to get it, or maybe he did, but he just chose to ignore it.
“I’ll give you two some privacy. I’ll wait in the car,” he told you as he walked into the elevator, leaving your side. No, no, no, Christian, don’t leave me, you shook your head slightly, giving him all the signs you could think of to make him stay. But he didn’t. He waited for Kiseok to leave the elevator, before he pushed the button that brought him to the ground floor.
Fuck, you cursed inside of your head. You didn’t know what to feel right now, overwhelmed with contradictory emotions. You were angry with Christian, as he left you alone with Kiseok without a second thought. You didn’t want to talk to Kiseok. Christian out of everyone should have known how much you dreaded seeing him again. Yet he left. You felt betrayed by someone you thought would have your back when you needed him. At the same time you felt hurt and scared of the conversation that was about to come. 
“What do you want, Kiseok? Did Jay send you?“ You quickly regained your composure, not wanting him to see you in a vulnerable state. “No, I decided to come myself.“
“Why? You have more insults you want to rid yourself of?“ You asked him in a mocking tone. “I’m sorry for how I behaved at the party. It was inappropriate,” he said out of the sudden. An apology coming from him was the thing you least expected. “I got jealous when I saw you with him.“ It had been a while since you heard honest words coming out of his mouth. “And you thought picking a fight with me in public would it make it better?“ You snarled back at him with sarcasm. 
“No…I-I didn’t think at all to be honest. I had one too many and I leashed out at you.“ You knew it was a sincere apology, yet you weren’t satisfied. You weren’t sure what you wanted to hear from him, but nothing he said could subdue the anger you felt towards him. It wasn’t only anger either, more than anything you felt hurt and betrayed. “You’re excuses are getting worse.“ “Look, Minhee, it’s not easy for me. We’ve been together for so long.“ “And you think it’s easy for me?“ You looked at him in disbelief as you let out a scoff.
“Well, you’ve found yourself someone else pretty quickly.“ “It was just sex.“ You didn’t even know why you felt the need to set it straight. It was none of his business anyway. It was your life which he wasn’t a part of anymore due to his own doing. “I saw the way you looked at him.“ “And how am I looking at him?“ “The same way you used to look at me.“ You shook your head at him and let out a chuckle in disbelief. “God, you’re so paranoid. I’m not in love with him. I think I’d be the first one to know if I like someone or not.”
“What is he doing here then? I know you, Min. You don’t invite just anyone to your home.” You had no idea how the apology turned into an interrogation and you didn’t feel comfortable with the direction the conversation took.
“I don’t owe you an explanation, Kiseok.” “It’s just unfair that you get to move on with your life while I’m still miserable.“ “You have no right to say that. You walked out on us the moment you fucked her and lied to me.“ “I only lied to you because I didn’t want to hurt you and I didn’t want to lose you.“
“Well, you hurt me and you lost me, so that plan of yours didn’t work out very well, did it?“
“I’ve made a mistake, Minhee. I know that and I know it’s not something I can’t fix with a simple apology. But I’m trying. I’m really trying to fix it, because I can’t throw away the past four years just like that. You mean too much to me. I can’t just let you go like that. I can’t give up like this.”
In the silence that followed, you broke your gaze preferring instead to rest your eyes on the elevator behind him. “Is there nothing I can do to win back your trust?“ “I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. Would you ever be able to trust him again after all the lies he had told? Would you ever be able to believe his words without having any doubts? Was his word even worth anything anymore?
“Will you ever be able to forgive me?“ “I don’t know, Kiseok.“ “Do you still have feelings for me?“
Wow, this was a pretty long chapter! The longest yet I think? Hope it wasn’t too boring to read haha. What do you guys think? Is his mother right? Why did Christian leave so suddenly? What will Minhee's answer be? Are you Team Kiseok or Team Christian? Looking forward to reading your comments! :) And I hope you all are staying healthy! 
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Sanctuary
Request from Threadedsafetypin: a story about Jack helping Sammy to recover from ink infection.
---
Most members of the Joey Drew Studios music room knew that Sammy behaving strangely was status quo. So, when was Sammy first infected with ink, few people were alarmed. Complaining about seeing Bendy in his sleep? Stress. Increased irritability? Stress. Spacing out more often, seeming more exhausted, looking more drawn and bedraggled than usual? Poor guy really has to get a grip on his life- but at least he’s still functioning well enough to get the songs out on time.
Jack Fain, Sammy’s best friend, was the only one who realized that this wasn’t just one of Sammy’s episodes. He’d confronted Sammy about it a couple weeks ago, and it hadn’t gone well. He had snapped about his health being his own business and told Jack to go away.
Jack was used to Sammy being irritable, so he didn’t take it personally. “Okay. I can’t help you if you’re not ready. Just know that I’m here for you when you’re ready to talk. I care about you, and want you to be okay. Alright?”
Sammy had grumbled an “alright,” and left. His symptoms had only worsened since then, and Jack was rather worried that Sammy would never be “ready”- at least, not until he was very ill. But he couldn’t think of any way to help the process along unless Sammy was on board as well.
Then, one day while Jack was working in the sewers, he heard footsteps. Only Sammy knew that he hid away in the sewers, so it had to be him. Jack got up to meet him, and saw that Sammy had a defeated look on his face.
“Remember when you said to come to you when I was ready? Well, I’m ready,” Sammy said, as though admitting a dark secret. He took off the white gloves he’d taken to wearing lately, revealing ink-black hands. “The ink did this to me, and tried to convince me that it was a good thing, but I can’t deny that this is a problem anymore. I don’t think that a hospital could help me, and I’m scared that Joey would kill me if it got out the public. I don’t know what to do.”
Jack stood stunned a moment, looking at Sammy’s hands. They clearly weren’t just stained, but tainted down to the bone. It looked like there were some pockets of ink just beneath the surface as well.
“It’s okay. I’ll find out what to do,” Jack promised.
---
“Norman, can you come with me for a minute?” Jack asked. “I need to ask Mr. Drew something he won’t enjoy answering, and I’m hoping that if you’re there next to me, he won’t kill me on the spot for it. Alright? All you’ll have to do is stand there. And you’ll probably get some nice secrets out of it.”
Excited at the thought of listening in on such a conversation, Norman agreed, and the two of them made their way to Joey’s office. The door shut loudly.
“Joey,” Jack began, in a tone one might use to calm down a wild animal, “someone I care deeply about is infected with ink. Now look- I don’t want trouble. I don’t have any personal reason to want your secrets to get out. Please tell me how to help him get better, and I’ll do it completely inconspicuously if it’s possible.”
---
“What did he say?” Sammy asked. The look on Jack’s face wasn’t especially encouraging.
“Well, he said that a hospital can help you- if we take you a couple miles from New York, first. He said that the ink is alive in you, and it needs to be taken away from the ink machine in order to kill it. If we don’t do that, the ink will live in you no matter what anyone tries to do to get rid of it, and you’ll be in and out of treatment for the rest of your life- which would likely be a very short, unhealthy one. So, that isn’t an option.”
Sammy didn’t understand why Jack looked so hopeless at the thought of killing the ink. “Okay,” Sammy said cautiously, “That sounds doable. What else?”
“Well, the thing is that once the ink is dead, it won’t be able to help keep you alive, so all that tissue damage, organ damage, and dehydration is actually going to hurt you. Joey gave me some tips on how to increase the chance that you’ll end up at the hospital alive, but it’s still possible you won’t make it.”
Sammy was in shock. “I-I might die before I make it the hospital?”
“Yes. Joey said that you should go home and eat something with a lot of liquid in it. I take it you physically haven’t been able to drink anything but ink in a while, have you?”
“It’s been a few weeks,” Sammy admitted.
“He also said that we should lance any obvious deposits of ink before we head out. I can help you with the lancing. And... one last thing, Sammy?”
“Yes?”
“I quit this place, because it’s dripping with a deadly biohazard. I definitely suggest you do the same- especially if you’re in the habit of drinking ink, which Joey said you might be.”
Sammy sucked in a deep breath. “Please tell me that’s everything.”
“That’s everything.”
“Alright. Thank you, Jack. Honestly, thank you.”
The two went to Jack’s place, and with a knife, they set to work lancing any obvious deposits of ink. Sammy had them all over- on his legs, on his chest, his back, and some fairly severe ones on his hands. One by one, they were cut open, squeezed out, and bandaged. By the end, Sammy was in a lot of pain, and Jack’s bathtub was stained not only with substantial amounts of ink, but with a fair amount of blood.
“I don’t feel stronger,” Sammy admitted, looking down with his arms crossed over himself. “What if Joey gave us this advice to trick you into killing me? Or he didn’t understand how far along I was?”
Jack sighed. He’d made a good point, honestly. But Sammy needed comfort. “He didn’t lie. I’m sure of it. Just trust me, alright?”
“Alright,” Sammy replied.
“Do you want to stay over tonight?” Jack asked, “It might help you dread tomorrow a little less.”
“Are you sure you want me here? I’ll get ink and blood all over the place.”
“You will? Then we haven’t bandaged you up enough- you shouldn’t be leaking like that. And anyhow, don’t worry about it- it’s just one night, I don’t want you to go through this alone.”
Sammy agreed to stay over, though all he wanted to do was wash off and rest. The next day, the two of them headed out of New York in Jack’s car.
“Alright, Sammy, you know the drill. Tell me when you feel the ink dying, and I’ll turn the car around as quickly as possible.”
Sammy nodded. It was only a few miles before he did.
“Now,” Sammy croaked. He was already looking greener. Jack found a place to turn around and took it. 
 “Everything hurts...” Sammy complained. It was true. He felt weak and heavy, as though a large percentage of his body had suddenly become dead weight. His lungs stung, and when his breathing was wet and slightly laboured. Pain was building in his head, in the cuts he’d given himself the day before, and especially in his organs. 
“It’ll be okay, Sammy. I promise. Just hang in there, and drink some water.” 
Though it was hardly his most overpowering sensation, Sammy was very thirsty. Jack watched with concern as Sammy took one of water bottles in weak, shaky hands, took a sip from it, and then fell forwards, entirely limp.
 Jack slammed his foot on the gas pedal. He was going about 85 miles an hour, and he mentally calculated that he’d need about eight minutes to get Sammy to the outskirts of town and hopefully not too much longer to get him to a hospital. Risky as it was, Jack grabbed Sammy’s hand to check for a pulse. It was certainly there. A cop by the side of the road saw them, but let them go by- perhaps seeing that Jack was hardly doing this for pleasure. Thankfully, traffic was thin that day. Jack checked Sammy’s pulse again while at a stop sign- still strong, and pulled up in front of a hospital. He ran in, pushed his way past a line of people, and spoke to the secretary. “My friend is in my car. He’s unconscious and I have reason to believe that he needs immediate attention if he’s going to live. Please help him.” 
Within a minute, Sammy was being rushed in for medical attention, leaving Jack to wait in the lobby and fill out the necessary forms. Hours later, a nurse approached him. “You’re Jack Fain, the one who brought in Sammy Lawrence?”
 “Yes,” Jack answered.
“Well, Mr. Fain, we have some serious questions for you. What happened to Sammy? His condition isn’t exactly easy to identify.”
“His workplace is filled with a biohazard. He got infected and kept it secret for weeks. How is he? Is his condition stable?”
The nurse grimaced. “Stable, yes. He’s on life support, but we’ll be able to keep him alive. We’re not sure when or if he’ll wake up again since we haven’t been able to diagnose. Would you like to see him?”
“Sure,” Jack replied.
Seeing Sammy laying still as a corpse on a hospital bed, with three different IVs in his arm, a tube in his throat, and the beep of a heart monitor nearby, was not an encouraging sight. It moved Jack to tears. “Call me when he’s up. Or when it’s time to say goodbye,” Jack croaked to the nurse. With that, he left.
Jack spent the next few days fraught with anxiety. To make matters worse, the hospital had called Jack to ask where Sammy had worked and gotten infected. Jack had said he didn’t know, because he didn’t want to risk either of them being killed by Joey for leaking his secrets. If Sammy died, he’s have to wonder if it was partially on his own hands. Jack’s husband tried to reassure him that he’d done all that could be done, and Jack knew it was true, but it was still a scary time.
In what felt like weeks but was actually just a couple days, the hospital called Jack and told him that Sammy’s tissue damage seemed to be repairing itself and that he was responding well to treatment. Thankfully, none of his organs had been damaged enough to require a transplant. A week later, he was called to tell him that Sammy was awake again.
Seeing Sammy again was a massive weight off Jack’s shoulders. The dark spots on his body had shrunk significantly, and he looked much healthier, especially now that most of those tubes and wires were gone.
“Sammy. You’re alive.”
“Yep. I must be part cockroach because it takes quite a bit to kill me.”
Jack smiled. “Ha, yeah. The radio is calling you a walking miracle. Even though probably haven’t walked yet, since you just woke up.”
Sammy prickled. “No, I can walk. I’m not that weak!”
“Right, sorry. So, when you woke up, did they pepper you with questions on how you got into this state in the first place?”
Sammy took a quick look around the room to make sure no one was listening in. “Well, they asked me where I worked. I told them it was an ink manufacturing plant that I didn’t remember the name of. I think they bought it. Why, are people pestering you about it?”
“No. But I’ve been hearing about the investigation on the radio. They all want to know about the man who who somehow got several pounds of ink into his system and lived. As far as I can tell, no one suspects a thing about our old workplace, or magic. I think we’re free of it, buddy. I don’t think Joey is ever going to be in our lives again.”
Now Sammy looked like a weight had been lifted from him. “I had no idea how badly I needed to hear that until now.”
Over the coming weeks, Jack regularly visited Sammy in the hospital. He looked stronger every time Jack saw him. The news story died down without much fanfare. Sammy got out with a clean bill of health, and Joey Drew Studios gradually became a distant memory to them.
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hometown-swift · 5 years
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hi tay 💛 i just wanted to give you an update on my life as it helps me a lot to talk about my feelings and post something that you might possibly see. ive never been this open with my feelings so bare with me. this past year has been the absolute hardest on my mental health. having to deal with severe anxiety about absolutely everything, feeling confused and lonely and sad, and just lost. i spent all of last year wondering what i wanted to do and trying to make other people happy, and not focusing on myself. i had too much on my plate, i was never resting, and it just kept getting worse and worse with my depression and anxiety. just as i thought things were improving, my great grandfather passed away this january and it was like my entire world went crashing down all over again. he was my rock and suddenly not having him at the worst part of my life was the most terrible thing i’ve ever experienced. the past couple of months i’ve been really thinking about my life and what i want to do, and it’s so difficult. i still have 2 years of high school left but the pressure and anxiety that i’m feeling is so overwhelming. i feel like i need to have it all figured out, and the last thing i want to do is disappoint anybody. but throughout all of the mental struggles i’ve had, anytime i’ve felt upset, lonely, or anxious i’ve gone to your music. your kind words to me (even if it was just you saying happy birthday in 2016), likes you’ve given me, speeches from tour, and music has gotten me through it all. you are truly my saving grace, and i can’t ever thank you enough. just whenever i think it can only get worse, you pop in and show me that it’ll be okay. i love you so endlessly much and i will always be by your side just as you’ve been by mine. thank you. ♥️ @taylorswift
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bigskydreaming · 4 years
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Just a quick driveby post here to thank people for their continuing messages of support and donations despite the current theme of my blog being Welcome to Dullsville, Population: Me.. Not to put too fine a point on it, but its literally all that’s kept me alive, fed and with a roof over my head the past week lol, while I spend pretty much every single minute of every single hour I actually spend awake like, doing the Super Sexy Shuffle all about town as I continue hunting for a stable apartment/room to rent. Just, y’know, like, while disabled and broke and also like, during a literal pandemic because lololol, no, see, that’s what makes it FUN!
But like, yeah. So unfortunately, until I find SOMEWHERE stable to just like....exist in, until the surgery, like, my entire waking existence revolves around Addressing That. As lolol I simply can not afford to spend any of what little time I can stay upright/mobile at the moment on anything that isn’t productive towards like....tackling my one singular and obnoxiously pressing Need to fill/take care of.
Like, the good news is absolutely every single other thing needed to make the surgery even possible and get me ready for it, after an extremely long and drawn out three years, is finally and completely done and crossed off my list and officially Out of My Hands now. All scans have been done from every possible angle for the people making the prosthetic joint, insurance company has pre-approved and authorized every step and aspect of the actual surgery and hospital stay, and all of that is ready to go, I freaking got all my teeth extracted at age 35 just so as to as cheaply as possible get two straight and even rows dentures that even actually COULD be used to set a whole new bite from scratch, and that they could actually work with and use to align and position the new jaw/jaw angle at properly.....etc etc etc blah blah blah whatever.
Point is, all of that which feels so taxing and tedious even just rattling off in paragraph form, let alone LIVING it and that basically being the entirety of my whole life all day every day for three years.......like at least now its officially all done and out of my hands and at this point there is absolutely nothing left for me to do on my end or that I even CAN do on my end, other than wait fpr tje prosthetic to be finished, at which point they’ll book the surgery ASAP and at long last Make It So.
So like, I’m done done, according to every single one of the people I’ve extensively quizzed on that and then re-quizzed on that because its not like I haven’t heard that before and was told around this time LAST summer that I was at that stage only then get wallopped by the Plot Twist where they were like lol wait no scratch that, we lied.
But as far as I can tell, and accounting for every angle and possible late-stage obstacle that could still come up that I could even think of, everyone seems agreed that no This Time Its For REAL For Real Though, and like, pinky swore on it and everything, albeit in a socially distant way, of course.
*Shrugs* So they’re like, from here out its totally out of your hands and just a waiting game, so all that’s left for you to even do now is just.....keep existing until the prosthetic’s done and its surgery time. So just rest up as much as you possibly can and try to minimize your stress and pain-from-movement so as not to aggravate the issues your body is having any further than they already are.
Which totally makes sense as a plan and I am ALL for that gameplan and like, even found some cheap-o dictation software to experiment with and see if I can use it to just type-talk while lying down resting. Like, Ive gotten really good at talking while barely moving my mouth/jaw much at all, lol,  so that’s likely to still take WAY less of a toll on me than it does, having to sit up and type while gravity makes like an asshole and just stands on my jaw and makes everything worse all the ding-dong day long 
So anyway, that’s the plan at this point, and I’m totally on board and moooooore than ready to give the whole “bed-ridden” thing a try, lol. Just like. As soon as I first find a bed to be bed-ridden in, that’s at least even just a little more “actually something I can call my own bed” than the ones that I basically just rent by the day in motels that at their cheapest right now still cost like, a hundred bucks a day and lololol no that’s not sustainable and hasn’t been for a long while now but I just couldnt really do much about before while I still had to shuttle back and forth regularly between cities for different parts/stages of pre-surgery treatment.
Anyway, that’s the super exciting update on where I’ve ben and what I’ve been up to all week, and why Im not around much at the moment until I land somewhere stable, and like, preferably MUCH sooner rather than alter. But speaking of beds, now Im gonna go crash and crash HARD because Ive been up for a couple days straight now trying to Make Things Happen as much and as quickly as I can until my body force-quits on me and demands I plug back into bed for a recharging session or whatever. Ugh. 
Yeah, and tbh I have no idea if what Im saying even makes sense at this point and given how obnoxiously long it took me to get even this fairly-short-by-my-standards ramble out and onto the page, like.....this is me declaring myself officially Useless at this point and gonna go collapse now, kthxbai.
But also, seriously, seriously SO much thanks for everything everyone has done to help me this past week in particular. Legends only, each and every one of you. And like, your combined and continued goodwill is making it hard for me to even have a villain origin story so if anything that’s what’s gonna be my ultimate villain origin story so jot that down. And like. Make it make sense though.
Anyway. Thanks again! Or still, or always. And also like....goodnight! Or good morning, or good afternoon or ugh shut the fuck up and go the fuck to sleep, me.
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downwardfalling · 4 years
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the world is moving
“Did it hurt?” Tony reaches over with his right hand, a piercing red silhouette in the night, and gently grazes the swollen skin.
“Oh,” Peter blinks twice. Then, “No.”
- Or, Peter and Tony’s relationship in five acts, as told through bruises.
Read on AO3 :))
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Act I
The length between the tip of Tony’s pointed dress shoes and the threshold of Peter’s hotel door is simply a single footstep. And yet, Tony stands on one end, struggling to cross the distance. Peter’s fourteen, his more rational side reasons, and has already been spiderman for a couple of months at least. He should know how to treat a black eye.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter looks surprised to see him when Tony finally works up enough nerve to knock on the door. His worst worries are confirmed. Half of Peter’s face is swollen, marred by a bruise that encroach on his otherwise youthful features.
“In the flesh.” Tony gives something of a wan smile as he brushes past him.
“Wha-what are you doing here? I mean, not- not that I don’t want you here, of course.”
Tony doesn’t know how to answer the question without seeming like he cares too much, so he doesn’t. “Are you enjoying the hotel?” 
“Oh, uh, yeah, it’s great.” Peter pauses for a moment. Then, more quietly, as if sharing some great secret, he adds, “There’s even a TV in the bathroom, Mr. Stark. The bathroom. ”
Steve must’ve hit his head one too many times because he hears awe in Peter’s voice, and worse, finds it reassuring. But even sleep deprived and beaten, Tony knows the real reason why, as much as he refuses to admit it. The fact is, he messed up bad, and Peter saw the repercussions: Tony’s life work– his friendships, his career, his family– fell apart, loud and rickety like an unoiled machine. A part of him feared that Peter would finally see him for who he is. Not a hero. A fuck up. That same part of him is glad that Peter doesn’t. It’s selfish, but he puts it in the back pocket to unpack later.
“Thank you so much for this, Mr. Stark. It’s really great. I haven’t even been on a plane before, and now I’m fighting with the Avengers in an airport. I mean obviously, I would rather be fighting with the Avengers and not against the avengers, but you can’t win them all.“
Tony swallows hard, fighting back affection that Peter seems to command without knowing. He’s just too young. Too good. “No problem, kid. Do me a favor, and sit on the bed over there.”
Peter sits on the edge, clasping his hands neatly on his lap in front of him. He smiles, genuinely (teeth, gums, and all), even though he has bruised flesh under his left eye that forces it halfway closed. His right eye shines with reverence and youth and excitement that, along with affectionate, makes Tony sick to the stomach with guilt.
“You need ice,” Tony croaks, quickly turning away to hide whatever emotions he was uncareful enough to let show.
Peter either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t point it out. “Hm? For what?”
“For your face.”
“Oh.” He gingerly presses his fingertips against the skin under his eye, as if he had just remembered the bruise that had been the source of Tony’s penitence since he first saw it forming in the car ride back to the hotel.  
Tony hands Peter the bag of ice. “Keep this on for a little while.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Peter presses the ice to his eye and leans back to rest against the headboard. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Stark, I just wanted to let you know that you were super badass today.”
“Oh?” Tony snorts, sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed after his curiosity wins out over his better judgement. “How so?”
Peter grins. “Well, you’re always kind of badass. But seeing you in person today was on another level. And more importantly, seeing you fight for what you believe is right and what you believe would be the best for other people.”
“Oh,” Tony frowns, unbelieving and unused to receiving so many genuine compliments at one time. “You think so?”
“More than think so. Know so.” Peter presses on passionately, as if he somehow sensed Tony’s doubt. “My uncle Ben used to love Harry Potter, and he would always say that it is the quality of one’s convictions that determines success, not the number of followers.”
Peter leans closer to Tony, clenching his fist against his chest to show how strongly he believes in what he’s saying. “You’re a really good person, Mr. Stark! That’s why you will always be badass, even if Mr. Captain America doesn’t think so anymore.”
Tony blinks, trying to stave off sweet relief and the beginnings of tears that came with it. “Wow, kid. Are you always this…?” He makes a roundabout gesture with his hands, as if it were sufficient enough for his lack of a better word.
“Honest?” Peter offers.
Tony scans Peter’s face, looking for some hint of sarcasm, or some form of mockery, because there’s just no way someone can have so much faith in him. Instead, he sees what he’s seen all along, youth, and reverence, and just pure good. Tony has to get out of here fast before Peter gets himself into something he doesn’t want to be in.
“I should get going now.”  He gets to his feet as Peter blinks at him in confusion. “Rest, and keep that ice on for at least another ten minutes.”
“Will do!” It’s the last thing Tony hears before he’s out the door.
The distance between Peter’s hotel room and the tip of Tony’s shoes had only been a single footstep. When Tony crossed it, he had unknowingly crossed a fine line. But as he walks to his hotel room, shaking his head, he vows to stay away. Because he destroys everything he touches. and the last thing he wants to do is destroy Peter.
;;
Act II
“Who knew shattering your leg would cause severe internal bleeding? Weird, right?”
“Pete, please stop talking, or I swear to Jesus himself, you will regret it.”
“Yessir,” Peter salutes, and for two seconds, looks like he actually considers listening to him. “But wow, I can’t feel my entire right side.”
“That’s it.” Tony says, stepping around Bruce to make threatening eye contact with him. “When you’re better, you still won’t feel your leg. Why? Because you won’t have a leg. And why is that? Because I will have ripped it right out of its socket.”
Peter’s eyes start to droop, the likely effect of the medication they had given him when he first arrived. Quietly, he mumbles, "That’s just cold.”
Bruce stops to remove his hands from the IV on Peter’s arms and places them on Tony’s shoulders, slowly guiding him backwards and out of the room.
“Hey, buddy, I think you should step out for a bit. Get a breather. Maybe even a cup of water.”
“What, why? I’m fine.”
“No, you’re hysterical.”
“No, I’m not"
“Yes. You are.”
Tony looks over Bruce’s shoulders and sees nurses frantically working around Peter’s bed. Peter, finally asleep from medication, looks peaceful and blissfully unaware, even when his right leg is mangled enough that pieces of his bone pierce through the skin, and the majority of his thigh is black from severe internal bleeding. Tony isn’t privileged enough to be spared from the sight. His stomach churns uncomfortably, and it makes him lightheaded. He looks down, and his hands slightly shake from adrenaline.
“Yeah, I could use a cup of water,” he finally relents.
“Good, I will let you know when we’re done.” Bruce pats him on one shoulder. He must see the reluctance on Tony’s face because he adds, “He will be fine, Tony,” and then shuts the door.
In the time he was locked out of the medbay (which he owns, Tony bitterly points out to himself), he had the time to get not one, but six cups of water. He could have gotten more, but had been too busy making an internal list. The first thing he had to do once Peter was out of surgery was strangle him. Then, he’d call his scary, yet attractive aunt, and suffer the consequences of Peter’s actions, while May coddles Peter through phone, and promises to visit straight away after work. Finally, he’d strangle Peter again, lovingly this time, and force him to promise to never pull a stunt like this ever again, only for Peter to break it, at most, three months later.
Bruce finally steps through the sliding glass doors as Tony tries to figure out the best way to break the news to May. “Alright,” he says, taking off his gloves. “He’s all fixed up.”
Tony gets off the chair he had been sitting on for the past three hours, and furrows his eyebrows. “As easy as that? No permanent bone damage?”
“As easy as that. His healing factor is really quite something else.”
“Don’t tell him that, or he might get more creative next time.”
Bruce rolls his eyes, but steps aside to let Tony through. “You can see him now. Be gentle, he just woke up.”
“Oh Brucie Bear,” Tony sighs, patting Bruce’s shoulder as he steps by. “What am I if not gentle?”
Peter had nearly fallen back asleep in the time he was left alone, and Tony, seeing him slowly nod off like the kittens in the cat videos Peter forces him to watch, feels all the previous agitation and anger leave him, as quickly as air deflating out of a balloon.
“Hey Pete,” Tony whispers. His fingers hover hesitatingly over his forehead, but eventually, he reaches to brush Peter’s fringe out of his eyes.. “How are you feeling?”
“Hm?” Peter squints at him, pushing up on his elbows. “Oh, hey, Mr. Stark. M’fine.”
“Wow, and the press calls me a dirty liar,” Tony says drly, leaning over to help Peter sit upright against the pillows. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
Peter winces. “Not particularly, but I’m guessing if I don’t, you’ll go through Karen, and I have some pretty embarrassing footage I don’t want you to see. Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.”
“No harm done,” Tony says, his voice laced with faux comfort. “I’ve already seen them. Your impression of Thor is really cream of the crop. Absolutely spot on. I’m sure Thor would agree. You know, once I show it to him.”
Peter gasps, pressing his hand to his chest. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, but I would if you don’t tell me who did this to you.”
Peter groans into his hands and sinks further into his pillows, deliberating his options for a few moments.
“Ugh, fine,” he eventually concedes, embarrassment too large a price. “But you have to promise me you won’t commit first degree murder.”
“No can do. Thou shalt not lie, and all that. Besides, I don’t think you should worry too much about what happens to him when he nearly tore you to shreds.”
Peter glances down at his tightly bandaged leg in a disappointed frown. The turn of his lips create harsh lines around his mouth and between his brows that make him look wrought with fatigue, and years beyond his age.
“Yeah,” Peter mutters, a bit breathless. “He really got me good.”
Tony places a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Pete,” he says gently, leaning down to make eye contact. “I know that you think you have to do this all alone, but you don’t. Whoever hurt you is dangerous, and deadly. You could’ve died, Peter. It does not make you weak to ask for help.”
Peter reaches up to grip the cuff of Tony’s button-up, tugging on it until Tony sits on the edge of his bed. He doesn’t make an attempt to move after that, simply clutches the fabric tightly between his fingers, wrinkling the material where it disappears underneath his fingertips.
“He calls himself the Green Goblin,” Peter whispers, many minutes later. “He’s large, and strong and…and scary.“
“Okay,” Tony says, nodding his head. “Thank you for telling me. We’ll figure it out together. Maybe I can even threaten Rhodey into helping. Not that I would need to. He’s putty in your hands.”
Peter laughs, releasing his grip to press the back of his hand against his mouth. “ Mr. Stark,” he says, giggling. The lines on his face disappear to reveal the youth and naivety that Tony will always associate with Peter.
“It’s your stupid cat videos,” he says, smiling, pleased with his laughter.
“Thank you,” Peter whispers. His hands fidget for a little, until finally settling to fiddle with the loose seams of the blanket. “And I’m sorry if I scared you.”
Tony grunts. “Why do you always thank me for doing nothing? And yes, but you’re always scaring me. I’m only just a little used to it by now.”
“Really?” Peter’s voice pitches. “Because it didn’t seem like it. At least from what I remember.”
“You probably don’t remember much. You were all delirious with the drugs.”
“But seriously. I really want to thank you for agreeing to work with me. Showing me the ropes, and all that. I haven’t… completely figured out how to handle all the superhero stuff yet, if you can’t already tell.” Peter gestures to his leg. “And there’s no one really better to show me how than you.”
Tony smiles, satisfaction settling in his body, warmly. Peter is always so startlingly sincere with his gratitude and admiration, and Tony has only gotten used to taking  the compliments and thankfulness in stride rather than succumb to doubt.
“Thanks buddy,” he pats Peter on the shoulder. “Let’s see if you think that once I force you to call your Aunt.”
;;
Interlude.
“Hey,” Peter leans against the door. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and it makes him look small, and vulnerable and unsure.
“Come here,” Tony whispers, lifting his bed sheets. Peter stops playing with the hem of his shirt, and slowly walks over. He slips into the bed, and leans his back against the headboard, brushing his shoulders against Tony’s own.
He doesn’t say anything, and Tony doesn’t ask him to. Together, they sit in silence. Tony takes the time to contemplate life, and death, and chance. Peter, he assumes, thinks the opposite: war, and renewal, and luck.
Finally, Peter asks, “Did it hurt?”
“The snap?”
“Yeah.”
“No,” Tony lies.
Peter shifts side to side. He doesn’t believe him, and for a moment, Tony waits for Peter to lean away and call him a liar. Instead, he presses his head against Tony’s left shoulder, and, in doing so, reveals the large, blue bruise that blemishes his temple.
“Did it hurt?”
“What did?”
Tony reaches over with his right hand, a piercing red silhouette in the night, and gently grazes the swollen skin.
“Oh,” Peter blinks twice. Then, “No.”
They settle back into silence. Tony presses his cheek against Peter’s hair. They look across Tony’s room, past the leather armchair, past Morgan’s bunny from where it was abandoned on the floor, past the wall. They look ahead.
Tonight, they pretend that everything is fine. Tomorrow, Peter will help Tony dress the burn wounds on his right side, and Tony will press an ice pack against Peter’s temple. Tomorrow, they’ll heal.
;;
Act III
“Morgan, honey, what do we say when we do something bad?”
Morgan tilts her head and squints her eyes, thinking hard. “Shit?”
“Morgan!” Pepper presses her hand to her chest, aghast. She turns to Tony, lifting her finger accusingly. “ You.”
“I have no idea where she learned that, Pep. Scout’s honor.” Tony replies, trying to school his face into indifference. A futile attempt when Morgan twists to face him on her mother’s lap and gives him a small smirk that is the consequence of weekend sleepovers with Natasha, forcing Tony to hide his grin behind his hand.
“You were a boy scout?” Peter, who is holding a bag of peas against his head on the couch next to him, looks up with just a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“No. He wasn’t.” Pepper gives Tony a glare over Morgan’s head, her eyes narrowed to a squint that meant she was only seconds away from sending Tony to the couch tonight, and shifts Morgan gently onto his lap. “You caused it, you deal with it.”
Tony leans over and presses a kiss to the top of Morgan’s head as Pepper walks down the hall, and out of hearing distance. Morgan giggles, and turns around to return it on the cheek. “What did I tell you before? Those are only Mommy’s words.”
Morgan nods seriously, looking as if she was hearing God himself dictate the eleventh commandment. “Mommy’s words,“ she repeats.
“That’s my treasure.”
“Treasure? She nearly took my life!” Peter scoffs, but with an undertone of care and affection that Tony hears more and more often when Peter talks to and about her.  She’s going to grow up to be very spoiled, as clear when he thinks back to this morning– she had coaxed Tony into giving her yet another banana for breakfast, and after she finished, left the peel by the doorway for Peter to trip on when he finally got out of bed at noon.
“Petey,” Morgan says, reaching out to group three of Peter’s fingers in her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Aw M, of course–”
“I should have known you weren’t smart enough to avoid it.”
Peter’s face goes slack, and Tony can read the shock on his face from the way his eyebrows disappear into his hairline and how his mouth falls slightly ajar. He slowly turns towards Tony, and narrows his eyes in the same manner Pepper had done just moments before.
Tony shrugs his shoulders. There was only one person capable of teaching impressionable, five year old Morgan such wyrness, and opposed to popular belief it wasn’t him. It was Peter.
“Morgan, that wasn’t very nice,” Peter warns threateningly. “Now you have no choice but to suffer my wrath!”
Peter reaches over to tickle Morgan’s stomach. Morgan shrieks, and falls off Tony’s lap and onto the couch in a fit of laughter.
“Noooo,” she cries. “I’m sorry, Petey! I’m sorry!”
“No can do, M.” But, Peter relents anyways, and leans down to give Morgan a peck on the cheek, even as he simultaneously presses peas against the bump on the back of his head. Tony changes his mind. She is already  spoiled.
“Alright,” Tony says, playing peacemaker. “Now that this is settled. Let’s hit the lake!”
Morgan gasps, sitting upright on the couch. “The lake!” She cheers, already running to grab her flip flops.
“How is it that she’s the most adorable and cutest yet most evil person I know?” Peter sighs dramatically, placing the peas on the coffee table, now warm. He gets up off the couch and offers Tony a hand.
“You’re too little too late, Pete,” Tony says, groaning softly as he lets Peter pull him to his feet. “I asked myself the same question when she shat on my hand five years ago.”
“Petey! Dad!” Morgan runs by, now with her hair in a ponytail and with flips flops in hand. “C’mon let’s go! I want to take the boat out!”
“Coming, pumpkin.” Tony straightens his back, joints cracking loudly. “Ugh, that can’t be good. I’m getting too old for this.”
Peter laughs, patting Tony’s shoulder as he brushes past him. “Let’s go, Old Man. Before you hit the hay.”
Later that night, after Morgan fell fast asleep from a long day boating around the lake, and Pepper had dozed off after arguing with investors from Hong Kong, Tony does end up on the couch, but in his own volition. He’s nursing a cup of hot chocolate when Peter ventures into the living room.
“Hey,” he says, sitting down next to him. “What are you doing here? I thought old men slept like logs after their evil daughter connived them into speeding ten circles around on a boat.”
Tony snorts. “I could ask the same about older brothers.”
Peter looks content, and the sight of it unravels some knot that had been building at the pit of Tony’s stomach. It hasn’t been too long after the large and dramatic stand-off against Thanos, and a part of him had worried about life after. Life with both Peter and Morgan, but no Iron Man.
“How are you feeling?” Peter asks, eyes shifting across his face, as if he were searching for signs of distress. “Is it the nightmares again?”
Tony chuckles, and reaches over to brush back Peter’s hair. It’s gotten long, and if possible, even more curlier. May has been going on about having it cut, but for now, Tony counts it as a small blessing.
“Nope,” he says. “Another day scotch free. I think we should celebrate. Three months, a new record.”
“Oh,” Peter says, leaning back into the couch, his posture much more relaxed. “Then what are you doing out here?”
“Just enjoying the silence of the night. God knows we don’t get enough of it around here.”
Tony throws his arm around Peter’s shoulders, and Peter sags against him, cuddling into Tony’s side. Inside his bedroom, Pepper is dreaming of investment meetings, and new punchlines to throw at misogynistic corporate leaders. Down the hall, Morgan sleeps soundly.
Everything is as it should be, even if the only piece missing is Iron Man’s signature red and gold hues, tracing shapes into the sky like Earth’s brightest star. Tony has everything he needs right here.
;;
Act IV
“Tony,” Peter groans, pressing an ice pack onto his cheek, where a bruise was black, and blue and blooming around a long gash that reached from his upper cheek to chin. “Please stop pacing, and sit with me.”
“No,” Tony quips, but sits on the chair next to the medbay bed anyways. “I’m too busy trying to figure out why you felt the need to keep this from me.”
“Because you get all crazy? Like right now?”
“It’s me, ” Tony replies, leaning forward in his chair and ignoring Peter’s remark, looking all types of the tormented soul he is and will always be. “You used to tell me everything. And now you’re off on secret missions with Shield–”
”–yes, because that’s what secret means–“
”–or taking down whole New York crime syndicates by yourself, making friends with that human embodiment of a tabloid Johnny Storm, or worse– sneaking off to go to a party . It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.“
A look of understanding comes across Peter’s face. Like he’s just realized this is about more than Fisk’s underground Mafia work, more than even the illegal multiverse experiment that had been one spilled beaker away from tearing the universe into two. It makes Tony miss the years right after the Snap, miss when Peter’s first instinct would be to call him, before he had left for college, became war torn and world weary, and for whatever reason, decided that Tony simply wasn’t needed anymore.
“Tony,” Peter says, more gently this time, reaching his hand out. Tony takes it, holding it tightly in his own as if should he let his grip slack for even just a moment, Peter would break into a million pieces of dust, unmendable and gone, but never forgotten– just like he did on Titan, just like he does over and over again in nightmares that continue to plague him even years later.
“I’m always going to need my old man.” Peter jokes, but his face says otherwise: lips pressed together in a small smile, eyes bright with the beginnings of tears and something else. Love, Tony will amend, months later, thinking back to this memory as Peter hands him the invitation to his wedding.
“Then why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you. Called for back-up, tracked him for you, Iron Man–”
“–is out of commission.” Peter’s eyes drift to Tony’s right arm, red and metallic, a synthetic replacement for the original which had been tragically incapacitated by the Snap.
“How am I supposed to help you if I don’t even know?“
Peter drops the ice bag to reach over and lay his hand on top of Tony’s, cupping it tightly between both of his own. “I don’t need Iron Man. I need Tony Stark. Tony who might not be there for the battle, but will always be there for me in the aftermath.”
Peter doesn’t say anymore, and he doesn’t have to. Tony has since learned the art of reading into the unsaid.
;;
Act V
Peter grips Tony’s hand too hard, and it creates fingerlike bruises on his skin.
“I can’t do this, Tony,” he says, using his other hand to wipe at his face. “I can’t. I just can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” Tony gives Peter’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Peter doesn’t bother to squeeze back, too busy looking down the hallway, eyes shifting left and right in search of the nurse.
“Do you think it’s done? Why hasn’t anyone come out yet? Do you think something went wrong? What if–” Peter’s face goes slack, and he slumps down on the chair, finally letting go of Tony’s hand to run them through his hair. “I think I’m having a breakdown.”
“Oh hey. You’re not that bad. If it makes you feel better, I vomited on the nurse twice before Pepper popped Morgan out.”
Peter gives Tony a long look and proceeds to groan. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I don’t know. Do you feel better now?”
“Not particularly. But I am more distracted. The image of you vomiting is equally too familiar and hilarious.”
Tony smiles and lovingly pats Peter’s cheek, now less flushed from his previous outburst. “Then my job here’s complete.”
Peter returns the smile, and looks contemplatively at his hands. “Do you think MJ will be mad at me for not being with her?”
“Michelle? Probably not. She’s a strong, independent woman. And I’m pretty sure she’s the one who told you to leave after you started to freak out.”
“Ugh,” Peter grimaces, most likely reliving the memory. “I’m just not sure if I’m ready yet. To be a father.”
Tony reaches over to brush back Peter’s hair from his forehead. When Peter took over Stark Industries two years ago, he had gotten into the habit of gelling it back. It was one of Tony’s greatest losses. Today, he relishes in the fact that Peter left it undone, too in a hurry to get to the hospital in the middle of the night. His baby, who no longer looks it, is all grown.
“Do you know what’s the most important part of parenting?”
“No?” Peter slumps in his chair, saddened by his own ignorance.
“The answer’s more obvious than you think: love, and honesty and respect. Being emotionally open, loving your kid, and letting your kid know that, but also, somehow respecting their boundaries.”
Tony’s words do nothing to appease Peter. If anything, he’s more discouraged and sinks further into the uncomfortable waiting room chair.
“It’s a learning curve, but I’ll let you in on a little secret. Peter, you’re the most honest and affectionate person I know. Before I met you, I don’t even think I was capable of saying I like you, nevermind love. And look at me now, I spend all my time with you and Pepper and my baby Morgan who’s got me wrapped around her small yet powerful finger.”
Peter laughs, his eyes looking suspiciously watery. “Don’t worry. She’s got us all in her evil clutches.”
“My point is,” Tony continues, chuckling softly. “You’ve taught me all of these things about parenting, just by being yourself. I have so much faith in you, there are not enough words for me to even describe it.”
Peter looks as if he’s about to break into pitiful sobs, but the nurse steps out of Michelle’s room, smiling brightly as she calls Peter’s name, and saving him from what would’ve been inevitable seconds later.
“Oh god, I think I might vomit.”
“Oh no. Vomiting during labor only needs to happen once in history.” Tony jokes, feeling as if he might vomit himself. He pushes lightly on his shoulders. “In you go, Pete.”
The room is quiet when they walk in. Michelle is propped up against some pillows, simultaneously exuding tire and glowing with the newfound joy of motherhood. In her arms, swathed in light blue blankets, is the baby, sleeping comfortably.
“Oh my,” Peter chokes, approaching the side of the bed. “He’s just so tiny.”
“And yet he took so long to come out,” Michelle says, lids heavy as if she were on the brink of passing out. “Do you want to hold him, Peter?”
Peter hesitates for a few seconds, but reaches down shakily, and gently lifts the baby off Michelle’s arms. “Oh wow,” he says quietly, adjusting the baby’s blankets with one hand. “Hi there, baby. It’s me, your dad.”
Slowly, he turns towards Tony, tears making their way down the side of his face. “Look, Tony. It’s my baby. He’s beautiful.”
Tony looks down at the bundle, and indeed, burrowed between the creases of the fabric, is a baby boy with the beginnings of Peter’s hair, his nose, his ears, and if he looked closely enough, maybe his smile.
“Hey there, Beautiful,” Tony’s voice cracks. “You got a name yet?”
“Say hi to Grandpa, Ben. Benjamin Anthony Parker.”
;;
End.
The hospital room is dark, mostly lit by the dim yellow light that emanates from the small lamp next to the bed. Michelle is sleeping quietly, and beside her, still wrapped in baby blue blankets, is Ben. Across the bed, is a long, grey ottoman sofa. On one end, May is sleeping with her head tucked on Pepper’s shoulder. On Pepper’s other side is Morgan.
Tony watches everything from the other end of the couch, and tucked into his side, is Peter, exhausted but still clinging to the last dredges of consciousness.
“Are you still worried about fatherhood?”
Peter looks up at him with glassy and wistful eyes. “No. I have the best role model.”
At that, Tony smiles, content. He has all he needs, and then some, right here.
123 notes · View notes
astromechs · 4 years
Text
anything that’s worth my love (is worth the fight)
idk, oneshot, character/relationship study thing, who knows. also i didn’t reread the bendis issues about the cancerverse before i wrote this, so i took some liberties and fuck bendis canon anyway
also on ao3!
i.
Peter Quill is a strange guy.
It’s not the most profound assessment, but it’s about the best that Rich has, even after almost three months of working with him. Just by looking at him, you’d think that he’d be one of those painfully serious guys out of an old movie, dark, brooding, and mysterious. But over time, it becomes clear that, in a lot of ways, he’s the opposite; he seems to come to life more and more by the day, a ghost of a smile here, something like a bad joke there, a lot of offhand comments that seemingly come out of nowhere but somehow prove to be completely relevant.
Rich finds that his eyes have developed a tendency to linger on Peter for probably longer than they should, as if just staring will somehow get him closer to figuring the guy out.
That’s it. Nothing more to it than that.
There’s no real reason that he’s continuing to watch as Peter walks away, and—
“Richard.” He’s still not used to the voice that’s now a part of him, yet he can't imagine life without it, either, somehow. (It’s not entirely a bad thing; he’ll take his comforts where he can get them, even if said comforts have an annoying habit of always waking him up in the middle of a few precious hours of sleep.) “I have found that your heart rate increases by an average of twelve percent whenever you are in the proximity of Peter Quill. I am analyzing — ”
“Shut up, Worldmind,” he cuts in flatly, but the words don’t leave his mind for weeks afterward.
ii.
Worldmind had calculated this plan’s probability of success to sit somewhere at approximately four percent, but Rich had thought that had been generous.
Direct assault has pretty much never been an option against the Annihilation Wave up to this point; this whole thing has been a game of finding the best time to evacuate civilians, and then retreat. He’d like for that to not be true, sure, because, well, maybe he hadn’t paid as much attention as he should have in his high school history classes, but he’s pretty sure no one has ever won a war purely through retreats. Even so, though, the fact is that even in the best case scenario of the United Front not running on basically a skeleton crew of troops, they’d still be massively overpowered, outgunned, and everything else.
But Peter had been right; something had to change to turn the tide, and this had been their best opportunity to strike. The crazy son of a schlag had just decided to do it himself before anyone else could argue.
That’s the long and short of how Rich had gotten here, crouched on the ground next to a second-in-command who had also just given them the biggest advantage they’ve had in months by putting himself in the blast radius of a well-placed bomb. And said second-in-command is still in one piece, somehow; a little worse for the wear, judging by the way he favors his right side as he tries to lift his body into a sitting position, but nothing that won’t see a full recovery.
There are about a million things on Rich’s mind, but each one gets away at light speed before he can grab on, and all he’s left with is a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that hasn’t managed to disappear. He swallows down the dryness in his throat, and when he opens his mouth to speak, all that comes out is:
“You’re crazy.”
“Maybe.” Peter shrugs in response, and after a moment, he actually smirks through the blood trickling from his bottom lip. “But it worked, didn’t it?”
There’s a part of Rich that’s definitely pissed, but the rest of him can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth.
(And, okay, he can’t lie; he probably would’ve done the same thing.)
Peter Quill may, truly, be the craziest man he’s ever met in his life, but there’s a possibility that they could win this whole damn war because of him.
iii.
They’ve managed to gain some ground, but Krelar still falls.
It’s a brutal loss, probably the most brutal in a whole war full of them; a hidden horde of the Wave had decimated thousands of civilians before they could even retreat, and those who’d been left of the United Front had barely made it off the planet themselves. They’re all shaken, deeply, and Rich had ordered everyone to tend to their wounds and get some sleep before reconvening at the end of the night cycle.
An order he knows he won’t follow himself.
He tries, though, for a time, tries to lie back on his pillow in his quarters and shut his eyes; he can go without rest longer than most, but even with the entire Nova Force inside him, he’s still pushing his limits. But when he does, he sees Kree falling on all sides, hears their screams as they do. He sees Xandar dying around him, just as he has in his mind’s eye. Death, just death, and even with all this power, he’s always helpless to do nothing but watch it happen….
His feet hit the floor, wander the corridors aimlessly, until they end up at the door of Peter’s quarters.
It opens before he can even knock.
They stand there for a time in silence, Peter looking as lost and haunted as he feels. There’s nothing to say, anyway; no platitudes will bring the planet back, gallows humor can only go so far, and with both of those options gone, well. That’s it.
Except —
Peter leans in and presses his mouth to Rich’s, and Rich doesn’t take the time to think about what’s happening, instead pulling Peter’s body as close to his as possible. They stumble through the doorway like this, a tangle of lips and hands searching for some kind of solid reassurance.
It doesn’t make anything better, because there’s nothing that can, but by the time Rich wakes up after managing a couple of hours of sleep, head resting on Peter’s bare chest and the rhythmic thud of a heartbeat in his ear, he thinks he can stand on solid enough ground to take a next step.
iv.
“Let me buy you a beer” had turned into three over the past hour, with a fourth probably soon to come, and while Rich feels guilty about it on some level, Peter continues to insist. It’s returning the favor, he says, for the tip about Knowhere, which has proven to be a pretty good base for his team, some hiccups aside. And:
“You look like you need it more than I do.”
After the — week, month, six months, year? — he’s had, he can’t really find it in him to argue.
Starlin’s has most of its usual clientele this evening, the loud, violent crowd that sees at least three bar fights broken up before it’s forced to disperse. A few broken bottles fly past their table at various points through this, but they’re otherwise left alone; being a war hero commands some respect in certain ways.
“I went back,” Rich finds himself saying a time after the bar quiets down, swirling the mug in his hand absently. “To Earth, I mean. First time since everything went down.”
Peter turns in his seat, attention fully focused on him, something like concern in his eyes (both human, no cybernetics anywhere, which is still taking some getting used to). He doesn’t say anything, and Rich takes that as his cue to continue.
“It was like…” He trails off, and it takes him a moment to commit to a train of thought. “No one even cared. The universe as we know it was almost gone, and all anyone could think about was fighting among themselves. This whole damn galactic war happening right above their heads, and nothing even changed for them.”
It all has a bitter taste coming out of his mouth, more than he’d actually intended it to, but he can’t deny that now that it’s out there, he feels like a massive weight has been taken off of his chest. He feels — better, somehow.
“But.” Rich drains the rest of the contents his mug after a beat. “Home is home, you know.”
“Yeah,” Peter says, and Rich thinks it sounds a little distant. “Home is home.” He reaches a hand toward one of Rich’s, gives it a brief squeeze before letting go.
Maybe it’s the fourth beer he’s now starting, but Rich has a wild thought that right here, right now, he could feel more at home than he has anywhere in a long time.
v.
It’s so quiet that the sound of Rich’s own breathing pounds in his ears. For a reality where life has supposedly won, it seems awfully dead; visibility stretches for miles on end, and as far as he can tell, there isn’t a single sign of movement anywhere. Worldmind’s report from his helmet’s scanners chime in at the thought, but confirm what he already knew.
He peels off his helmet, because everything’s getting too stuffy. He thinks it shouldn’t surprise him that that doesn’t provide any kind of relief.
Next to him, Peter kicks the Cosmic Cube on the ground, and it clinks against an outcropping of rock.
“Thing’s dead,” he says, voice still breathless from their last seemingly never-ending encounter with the Revengers, from dying and being resurrected repeatedly. (Turns out, that kind of thing can take a toll. Who knew.) “Next time they come back, we’re gonna get our asses kicked even worse.”
Rich’s eyes drop to the ground, drift over to the Cube and stay there as something starts to occur to him. It’d had one shot, sure, and they’d already blown it, but what if a source of massive power could charge it again? What if — “Maybe not.”
He’s trapped here, probably forever; it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. He accepts it, too, because he’d known his choices when he’d followed Peter in here, and if he could do everything all over again, he wouldn’t change any of them. Robbie, his mom and dad, every single being on countless worlds are safe. That’s what matters.
But before that door is shut for good, he can open another. One he himself can’t walk through, because someone has to hold it; it’s the only way.
Peter deserves so much more than being stuck here in a barren wasteland, fighting and dying and coming back to life again, and again, and again. He deserves a chance to live in the universe that he’d helped to save. And Rich can give him that; it’s the least he owes him. For everything.
He bends down to gently lift the Cosmic Cube with the tips of his fingers.
“Rich — ?” It seems to dawn on Peter before he can even finish the question, and out of the corner of his eye, Rich can see Peter’s widen in horror. “Rich, wait.”
He closes his eyes and concentrates, tuning out the screams and everything else around him.
“Rich!”
Nova Force rips through his cells, and it feels almost warm.
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evien-stark · 4 years
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✧I Need You✧ Chapter 80
Once the adrenaline faded, the last shock of the night- Rhodey walking up with a nervous President Ellis- was enough to spike what was left in your system. You practically collapsed in his arms as you hugged him tight. Glad to see him. Happy to know he’d been with Tony through most of this. And then that glow that had been consuming you from the start seemed to burst, and with it went most of your energy. 
Things became a little bit of a blur after that. You just remembered feeling hot. Too hot. Sweating profusely. Rooms shaking. A whisper of a cold breeze that left too soon. Too many voices speaking just above you. Hands touching you. Poking. Prodding. Lovingly caressing- 
Ah, that was always Tony. Even in your hazy state, you felt him. And more than once you heard him, not just speaking to you, but speaking to you. In that way only he could. You’re alright honey. You’re gonna be alright. I love you… 
His voice reassuring you, hypothetically holding your hand until the next time consciousness actually returned. The room was soothingly dark, not overly so. And you weren’t alone. Turning your head, the first thing you saw was an IV in your arm, steady drip- a spike of panic touched your awareness- because the last time you’d been hooked up to something like that-
“Hey, there she is.” A warmly familiar voice put your fears at bay, and you looked up to see Bruce, turning half away from a screen, tablet in hand. He slipped his glasses off his nose, putting them in his shirt pocket. “How are you feeling?” 
For a moment you had no idea how to answer that. “I’m okay… I think…” Sure, why not. You didn’t currently feel like you were in immediate danger- or pain, which was nice. “What are you doing?” 
“Checking your levels. Most of it is out of your system by now, I was just making sure things are on the straight and narrow.” Moving, he took a seat on the side of your bed. Lifting his hand, he placed the back of it gingerly on your forehead. 
You gave him a curious look. “As far as I know you aren’t that kind of doctor.” Smiling lightly at him.
He took the jab with relative ease, smiling right on back. “I’m not. But I can make do.” Patting your forehead once, he returned his attention back to his tablet, making a few scribbles on it with his pointer finger. “You’ve had a hell of a fever for the past couple of weeks… spiked more than once... but I think you’re out of the woods now.” 
“Weeks?” You felt your voice weakening at that. “But… I’m fixed now, right?”
“I told you.” Tony’s voice entered the room as the door opened. He came in, rolling up his sleeves, dressed in a handsome white button up shirt and black vest complimented with a purple tie. “That’s what I do.” Bruce moved to allow him to sit next to you on the bed, setting a hand on the back of your head and easing you closer to press a kiss to your forehead. “How are you feeling, honey? All good news, I’m sure.” 
You practically melted into him, eyes closing. “You look so nice… dressing up just for me?” Unintentionally avoiding his question. 
He sat back, hand sliding to cup your cheek in his palm. His grin was sure. “Not entirely. Somebody’s gotta do work around here.” 
“Usually that’s me.” Teasing right on back. 
“Yeah. Well, I guess I don’t mind, while you’re still under the weather. We have a new initiative going on.” 
Shifting, you rested your head against his shoulder. “Tell me about it…” 
His arm came around your shoulder, and you noticed Bruce slipping out of the room to give the both of you some privacy. Tony’s hand spread out as he labeled his proud moment, “It’s called Maimed by AIM- with a question mark.” 
A dissatisfied noise escaped you. “Maybe you should have waited for me to come to…” 
“Don’t like it? I thought it was catchy.” 
“Are there still people left? That Killian hurt?” Used. Abused. Maybe there were some out there… that hadn’t bought in to the Mandarin nonsense. Maya had been talking about that. Briefly, in the time that you knew her…
“Yeah…” His voice got quieter. “Seems Maya had a dead-man’s switch in the event of her death. All her research, all the information of their test subjects, the families… it all got transferred to the Stark Industries’ servers a week back. I thought I may as well try and clean up where I can. Now that I have the answer they were so desperately looking for.” 
“Maya is-” 
“Yeah.” The arm around you squeezed you tighter. “I watched Killian put a bullet through her. When she decided she’d seen enough.” 
Though it was small, the bloom of sorrow was impossible to miss. You moved your hand up over his chest, and snuggled closer. “I’m sorry, Tony.” 
“Couldn’t do anything about it.” His free hand rose, holding over yours. “Doesn’t matter now. All I can do is try to fix what she wanted me to fix.” 
“Did she have family?”
“I already made arrangements. Funeral was a few days ago. There was uh… a lot of red tape.” 
You felt like you were so far behind. “Did you go?”
“Not invited. As I’m sure you can imagine.” He didn’t allow a lot of time to marinate in this. Clearly wanting to move past it. He drew a quick breath in. “Anyway. Tell me. Honestly. How are you feeling?” 
“I don’t know…” Murmuring, as you closed your eyes. Almost like one of his machines, initiating a self check of some kind. How did you feel? “Tired, I guess. Groggy, but… I think everything’s okay.” It should be, right? If you’d spent two solid weeks in bed sweating out this stuff? 
“You’re really sure?” But him asking this again made you wonder. Were you okay? 
It occurred to you what he may have been getting at. Maybe he could fix regular people that had been injected with this stuff. But hadn’t Killian been going on and on and on about something… you dropped down into that space that should have been dark. Because that’s how you always remembered it. But now… it was still alight. Aglow. Orange sky above you. 
Instantly you knew. You were in one of the upper levels of Stark Tower. There were currently two thousand or so people in the building- and… so many… in New York City… for a moment almost a million voices rushed by your ears, causing you to sit away, put your hands over them, and force your eyes open. The calming low-light of your room found you again. “I’m not- ...I thought you said you-” No, no. This wasn’t his fault. You couldn’t blame him. He was standing again, when you looked at him, standing where Bruce had been at that screen by your bedside. “That stuff is still in me?” That had to be it, right? 
His hands were a flurry of motion, opening windows, typing things. “No- ...by all accounts you’re completely flush. ...there were- ...Maya’s notes, on you… pretty sensitive stuff. I can account for the physical reaction, for the most part. But…” 
But there was something about you that he just couldn’t fix. Because how could you fix a-... “You can’t fix the thing.” Eyes lowering. 
“That’s what’s wrong?” He took a seat by your side again. “Talk to me.” 
Did it matter? He couldn’t fix it. It was going to be like this forever now. But, when he put his hand over yours… you remembered you were not so alone. And keeping all of this bottled up, hadn’t that been what had gotten the two of you in trouble in the first place? “When I want to… I guess- like- super concentrate the thing- I go to this space. I don’t know how to describe it. But the floor is covered in water. And usually- usually I could only see one person. The person I was concentrating on. And it was dark in there. Just me. And them. And whatever they were feeling. But now… now it’s like it’s supercharged. I can see too many people. And it’s not dark anymore. It’s so bright.” Oddly finding some catharsis to letting yourself talk. 
So when he didn’t interrupt, you continued, laying your head on his shoulder. Closing your eyes, but not going. Basking in the darkness behind your lids. “When he put that stuff in me- Extremis- I think I really did burn up… and I tried to drop into that space to- I don’t know- make the guards help me or something- but it just all lit up. Like it was on fire, too. And now it’s still that way. And I’m sorry- this probably isn’t making any sense.” 
You felt him shrug. “Makes sense to you.” Then he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Superpowers are not really my forte. Not those kinds. I wouldn’t even know where to begin- doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try- but…” But how on earth could he even begin to imagine cooking up a solution to a problem he couldn’t physically understand? Literally. So far beyond him. Something science couldn’t make sense of. Injecting a super serum into someone’s body? Great. He could work with that. 
Talking about warping emotions and some dark-bright space where somebody’s- … essence? - wandered around? Yeah. He had no idea what to do with that. And you couldn’t fault him for it. So, you decided, “I’ll be okay.” And when you heard the murmur of discouragement from him, you cut him off, shifting to just look at him. “Really, Tony. I’ll figure it out. It’s not life threatening- that I know of- don’t make that face at me-” Because he was giving you one hell of a dry look. “I just have to get used to it, I guess.” You didn’t always even have that space. Coulson helped you unlock it. Maybe you should talk to him about it… 
“I have to take your word on this one. But. If it gets better or worse. Both. Either. Neither. I wanna know about it.” Because he wanted to keep track. Check up on you. Make sure you were doing okay. And after having communication shut down for so long… what a relief that thought was. 
Leaning in again, you rested your forehead against his, and lifted your hand to his chest. Although his current clothes were killing the light from the Arc Reactor, you felt its faint shape underneath. “No surgery yet?” 
“Like I was gonna go have- let’s be honest- pretty intense open heart surgery while you were laid up. Please. I have more courtesy than that.” His smile was wry. “One of us needs to be full capacity at a time to take care of the other.” Duh. 
At this, and the teasing after thought, you couldn’t help a little giggle. But it died down, and you found yourself just looking at him. “When, then?” 
“Whenever I’m ready. Doctor I met at- wouldn’t you know it- that same science convention in Switzerland. Seems like everybody I met that one night is suddenly important. You believe in coincidences?” Among the massive amount of sarcasm, there was a flutter of sorrow here. And you waited for him to continue. “Friend of Yinsen’s, actually. Took a few days to put a name to that blurry face.” Quieter still, “And realized I’d even met him that night.” He sniffed a breath in, moving past it. “Luckily for me, turns out he called the house. Before it blew up.” 
While just about every part of you wanted to ask what that was about- you didn’t want to give him too much opportunity to slip away. The fact was, they’d connected. And apparently now whenever he decided the time was right… “Are you ready?” Asking him as gently as possible, hand reaching up to touch over the side of his face. 
“Tech’s there. I developed a high powered energy magnetizer that’ll assist with the removal and keep the shrapnel at bay while the Arc’s not in my chest and I’m under.” But he was nervous and scared. Because that’s how a reasonable person would feel. If the surgeon didn’t perform right, or he missed a one or a zero somewhere, or … or anything-
“It’s okay if you’re not ready, Tony. It’s not now or never. This can wait.” Trying to just let him know that you understood. You very much understood his fear. 
“I’m done waiting.” It surprised you, how strong he said this, paired with the determined look in his eyes. His hand rose up, holding yours over his cheek. “I’m ready to move on.” 
So this this, you could only step beside him, and follow him wherever this led. “Okay. So we’ll move on.” Together. “What’s the recovery time look like?” 
Finally he smiled again. “I think, all things considered, I should be fine to take you on a date for Valentine’s.” 
“You’re thinking about that now?” He was such a goof sometimes. But that did pose an interesting question. “What day is it even?” How long did they say you were out again? 
His arms came around you then, with an appropriately tight squeeze. “January seventh. Honey, I’m sorry to say, the new year came and went without you. I promise I did very little partying to start 2013 off.” 
Your arms wrapped around his middle, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “What a change for you.” 
“Which is why I’m looking forward to Valentine’s.” 
“We’ll see.” 
                                                    --------
Things happened almost too fast after that. The rest of the night you drifted in the comfortable presence of Tony, who had settled on the bed with you, although his fingers seemed to never stop moving atop his laptop keyboard. The next morning, as he confirmed appointment after appointment, you worried he was speeding along this process for fear if he put a stop to it in any way now, he may never do it. 
It was hard to know what to make of that. But that very next afternoon you were shaking hands with Dr. Wu and his assistant Jiayi. Fine people, really. You didn’t get any terrible feelings from either of them. Which was important, for sure, but… 
This done waiting attitude may have been more harmful than helpful. But if he wanted to go then what choice did you have but to follow him? So, the appointment was made. And it was a done deal. You put your current energies into make sure he was comfortable, that his room was secure, air tight, and private. And that none of this leaked to the press. This was not meant for them. Not yet. If ever. 
Rhodey met up with you that evening, and you spent perhaps too long a time giving him a squeezing hug. And also apologizing for practically- probably- scaring the living daylights out of him the last time the two of you were together. And while the room was being prepped for surgery- same as Tony- you and Rhodey stood outside, gazing in the observation window. You weren’t exactly sure you were strong enough for this, to watch this- but… 
“He’s ready to go, huh?” Rhodey crossed his arms. 
You gave a weak shrug, as they wheeled him in and started wiring him up to machines. “He said he didn’t want to wait any longer.” 
“I’ll say. Twenty seconds after you return to the land of the living- no offense-” Holding a hand up briefly to you before recrossing his arms, “-he’s going under. Was this something you two talked about before?” 
He was probing. Looking for something. It put an unease in your heart. “You worried?” 
“When am I not? Who knows with him. He acts out when he’s stressed. I just wanna make sure a life changing surgery isn’t gonna be a major regret.” As always, heart in the right place. 
You lowered your eyes as they brought in the anesthesia. “We talked about it. Very briefly. He made consultation appointments for himself. But it all kinda got put on the backburner.” 
“Yeah. I get it. Seems like we’re forefront now, though.” 
In the room, Tony gave you a thumbs up, and you put your hands to the glass in the shape of a heart. Perhaps a little too cliche, considering what was about to happen. But you were sure you saw the corners of his lips lift up around the mask. You felt Rhodey put his arm around you, and only realized then you were shivering. “We’re gonna be okay.” Even your voice was wobbly. 
There just wasn’t enough time to process this. Rhodey pulled you closer to him. “We’ll be okay.” 
The surgery took a grueling five and a half hours. Dr. Wu was probably the best- and only- person for the job. He was careful. Meticulous. Each piece of shrapnel extracted took a long time, as you were sure he was making sure he did everything precisely. Some of it was hard to watch. Like the beginning. And somewhere in the middle you were glad there were just too many doctors in the room standing on the side of his table blocking your view. 
Rhodey took to pacing, but never left. Which was good. It was very nice to have a shoulder to literally lean on every now and again. But where you thought five and a half hours was the longest amount of time you’d ever spent doing anything in your life, it then seemed all too short as Dr. Wu starting sewing him up. It was over? Just like that? Just like that. 
Just like that. You were almost left in a state of shock as they wheeled him out of the room. Rhodey had to shake you a little. “You okay?” 
“He’s lived with that shit in his chest for almost five years- I think-” Time was a little beyond you at the moment. “And now it’s just- gone. Done. Finished. Over.” 
“And this is… a good thing, right?” He had his arms half crossed, one hand sitting just over his mouth as he watched you. “Are we on the same page here?” 
“I just… can’t believe it. It’s hard to believe. You understand, right?” Turning away from the window, the now empty room, looking back at him. 
You found relief when he nodded. “Yeah. I get it. I think we’ll all have to work on believing it together.” 
His hand reached out to take hold of yours, leading you finally out of that wing and upstairs into the room where Tony was getting situated. Still out cold. Probably would be for a while. And, in fact, was. So long a time that eventually Rhodey gave you a pat on the shoulder and told you he needed to head out. That was fine. He had other things to do. You understood. 
So you waited. And tried not to look at the bandages peeking out beyond the neck of the hospital gown he was wearing. Though you did. More than once. Dr. Wu came in eventually to debrief you. You took everything to heart. All his instructions. The details. The important things. And then… he got a hug, too. Even though he didn’t seem like he enjoyed it that much. But that was okay. 
It was when he left, and that you sat down again, that you saw Tony groggily opening his eyes. Leaning over, you brushed some of the stray bangs away from his forehead. “Hey, handsome…” 
His smile was one of relief. “Hey yourself…” Voice a low murmur. “Still here?” 
Laying your hand over his on the bed, “You’re still with us. Everything went perfect.” 
Closing his eyes, he huffed out a noise. “I meant you… if you’ve got other things to do…” 
“Nothing more important than you.” 
“Can’t argue with you there.” It was easy to tell how foggy he was. Not up to his normal speed. Which you imagined must have been frustrating for him. Because in the next breath, “When we gettin’ outta here?” 
“Give yourself a little while, Tony. You just had serious surgery. And, by the way, even when we go home, you’re not allowed to like- even put your arms above your head for the next four-to-six weeks.” Already starting in with the list of important things to know from the doctor. 
He scoffed. “Back in that cave I was building a suit almost immediately after-” 
“Well I don’t care about what went on in strange caves after forced surgery and while you were under duress. Here and now you’re taking it easy. Got it?” Laying down the law. And that was that.
He stared at you, eyes a little glassy, half-lidded. And then a beautiful loopy grin appeared on his face as his eyes closed all the way again. “Yes, ma’am… your way or the highway…” He sounded like he was drifting, as he let his head fall to the side. You sat forward to brush his hair back again and he murmured out a soft pleased noise. His hand turned over, taking hold of yours. “Thanks… for staying…” 
Leaning in, you pressed a delicate lingering kiss to his temple. “Just relax, Tony. Rest. I’m here. I’ve got you.” 
“Got you first.” Through his daze, he got this out pretty quick. 
You smiled, nuzzling that spot at his temple. “We can debate about it later.” 
“I love you.” He was on his way out. I love you, too. 
                                                    ----
You really did make sure to law down the law and make sure he took his time with recover. When he was ready to go home- ...well… not home, which was already a pain, but the Avengers Tower would do, as the penthouse basically acted as your second home- now primary- but, when he was ready, you made sure to take him yourself. Loaded him into the car yourself. Drove him yourself. Took him upstairs yourself- and put him to bed, yourself. 
There was a lot of that, in the coming weeks. But you didn’t mind. It was easy work. Making sure he rested, and when he was back on his feet, making sure he didn’t do anything crazy. “I’ll do all the heavy lifting. Literally, lifting of heavy things.” Unable to help getting in a few sassy snarks here and there. He seemed to appreciate them, anyway. 
In true Tony fashion, he was unable to sit still. And even doing normal things was taking a toll on him. It eventually led to the both of you heading down to the labs. But you made sure to be his hands and arms, and found some strange pleasure as he guided you through building what were essentially non-essential things. Not that he didn’t trust you, you were sure. But probably just getting the tizzy out of his brain by going from one easy thing to the next to the next to the next… 
As February rolled in, he really did seem to be doing much better. And the few check-ins from Dr. Wu suggested he was making excellent progress. And as the second week dawned, you caught Tony more than once giving you thoughtful glances, that eventually turned into, “So. Valentine’s?” 
An offer you were having trouble refusing. Even if you made a show of being slightly off put by the idea, a small sigh escaping you. Aside taking him, there of course was always work to do. “You really have something in mind?” 
“I do. So I’d appreciate it if you could just take one night off. I don’t think I’m asking too much, really.” Playing at being offended as much as you were playing unsure. He came around your desk as you were humming in long mock thought, putting his arms around your shoulders from behind. “You’re gonna make me beg? I’m not above begging. Just say the word.” 
A playful roll of your eyes came next as you gave in. “Oh… alright. Valentine’s. What should I wear?” 
He pressed a kiss to your cheek and, immediately after gaining your approval, seemed to be on his way out. Like he’d completed his mission and risked blowing it by staying any longer. “Something classy. I’m gonna take you out.” 
“Hey- before you go- we have to go back to the… site in Malibu- and collect whatever’s left-” A task you’d been trying to keep him on track for for a little while now. Now that he could handle it. 
But he just waved you off. “We’ll talk about it after.” 
One more thing to put away for now. Couldn’t have everything. 
But a night out? Suddenly seemed like a thing you weren’t sure how you lived without. Something classy really wasn’t saying much. But knowing Tony’s inclinations… you decided on a slinky black dress, which somehow matched his all white suit. It was a good look on him, you had to admit. Really, though, you wondered what had gotten into him. 
The entire night he looked at you like you were the only person on planet earth that mattered, and for one reason or another, it flustered you. He was just emanating love from every pore. So much that you may have been drowning in it. He took you to a fancy restaurant for dinner. And then an even fancier and more exclusive one for dessert. But it wasn’t the food or the locations that were important. 
It was him. And the two of you. And it hardly mattered that paparazzi were being quarantined by Stark security on the opposite side of the street everywhere you two went, or that people around you were looking around and trying to sneak pictures… you understood, really, why he was looking at you the way he had been. It wasn’t because you really were the only person in the universe. 
But to him you were the most important one. For sure. And on a night like tonight, you’d never questioned it less. Maybe near death experiences did that to a person. Maybe he felt more alive than ever. It was hard to say. 
After dessert he strangely took you back to the Tower, and led you hand in hand for a slow dance on the desk, as fireworks bloomed in the night sky behind you. Just as you laid your head on his shoulder, he spoke up. “I uh… at the risk of being overly cheesy, I got you something. I think that’s standard protocol, right. Gift on Valentine’s day.” 
You couldn’t hide your smile if you tried. “I didn’t get you anything.” 
“You’re enough.” Smiling as the two of you gazed at one another. But he seemed a little anxious. “Anyway- here- uh-” Reaching into his suit jacket pocket, he pulled out a long, thin black velvet box. “Turn around.” 
“Jewelry on Valentine’s day. You are going for cheesy.” Teasing him only in the most harmless way possible. Obeying his request after that. You heard the lid creak open, and the tinkly sounds of a chain and some other metal… your eyes closed briefly, lulled by a warm thrum that appeared while his fingers brushed the sides of your neck as he laid the necklace over your skin. Once you heard the clasp close, you reached up to touch your hands over it- feeling a heart pendant, small but no doubt encrusted with something expensive. But on the sides- 
...all along the sides of the chain, there were these… soft yet edged pieces of… something. Something. And almost immediately, for one reason or another, you knew what they were. “Tony-”
His voice was warm in your ear, “Our future started here.” 
As if you needed more confirmation. Half turning to cast quite a look at him- “Tony these are-” 
“Technically speaking- pieces of my heart- yes-” 
“Pieces of shrapnel from a bomb that almost killed you-”
He held a hand up, palming the side of your face. “Now, honey, you can’t say I never gave you anything nice. Or personal.” 
Sitting pretty around your neck were pieces of metal that had been literally sitting in his heart for years- and that had been extracted only five or so weeks ago in a surgery meant to heal him. And now… now he was gifting them to you. Like a sentimental piece of art. How were you supposed to handle that…? 
Evidently, with a crack of a smile, and a reach of your arms up to wrap them loosely around his neck, drawing him closer. “I love it. And you. You’re so weird and dramatic sometimes. You know that?” 
His head craned back, not lulled in, arching a brow. “How is that dramatic?” And at this you mirrored the look he was giving you. The mutual eye brow raising went on for maybe ten seconds more before laughter bubbled up from him, and his hands came to settle on your hips, bringing you in as close as he could get you. “Oh- I’m very sorry- Ms. Our Future Started Here. What was that about glass houses and stones again?” 
Giggles were all too soon leaking out of you. Maybe you two deserved each other. It was right. He was right. Laying your head on his shoulder, as the two of you swayed, “At least I can say I own a Tony Stark original.” 
“I mean. You own a Tony Stark. But if the jewelry thing is what really does it for you…” 
“I own the Tony Stark, thank you.” Only one. Only one man in the world like him. Only one man in the universe that was him. And you were forever grateful. 
His arms lifted, and you felt a slice of worry, but it dissolved as he wound them around your shoulders as yours dropped to wind around his middle, laying his head atop yours. Having no trouble at all. Your eyes closed. “I love you.” 
“I love you, too. Thank you… for the necklace. For tonight. ...for everything.” Was this an appropriate time to start spilling all that out? You were sure he knew, but… it never hurt. 
“If we’re about to start throwing out gratitudes, you’re gonna be out here all night listening to me go on.” Serving it right back to you. “Let’s just keep it simple, shall we?” 
“Mn.” Agreeing in a murmur. “We shall.” 
So, instead, in the way only he and you could, 
I love you. You let him know again. And in a space that contrasted the night you were sharing, bright as you went to him, and sort of just… laid your head on his shoulder there, too. Close as two people could be, you imagined. In whatever that was. You put your hand over his heart, and heard him inhale just somewhere over you. 
His voice returned to you, full, flush, and warm. I love you, too. 
For a brief moment the two of you not only existed together, but all together too fleeting, you seemed to share a space. And his heartbeat fell in line with yours. 
A night had never been so perfect. 
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If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) pt VIII
Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI. and pt VII.
Readjusting to life at Dalton is a lot easier than Kurt had feared. It helps that he isn't scared witless this time, of course. It also helps that Blaine isn't there to monopolize his time – which, in hindsight, had been the root of a lot of Kurt's isolation. Now he's got the Warblers for real, and Sebastian. He's also got a much better understanding of what it'll take to keep on top of academics, and how much he can allow himself to relax. He hadn't known that last time.
(There's a nagging thought that Blaine must have known, yet said nothing, that refuses to leave his brain. It's not a pleasant one.)
Another difference is that this time Kurt's not looking to return to McKinley. Last time he'd wasted valuable time and energy trying to come up with a way to return, and daydreaming about being back. This time's different. He chose Dalton this time, and he's staying no matter what.
Also, things being what they are he's not spending large chunks of his time with Mercedes and Rachel. From what Finn reports Rachel is furious – that Kurt's left, that he's not getting punished for the election and that he's left them another person down for Sectionals. Kurt's okay with that, seeing as she hadn't exactly been a great friend before he left. As for her rantings, well. If she spreads the cheating rumors too far Kurt'll deal with it – or his dad will – and the rest is easy to ignore.
He does miss Mercedes, but at the same time he's not willing to bend enough to fix things between them. Not this time.
She didn't believe in him.
It's that simple. He was on the verge of suspension, and Mercedes didn't believe in him. She wasn't even enough of a friend to pretend she did in public. Adding her behavior over Blaine's disappearance and West Side Story.... It's up to her to make the first move, and there's nothing guaranteeing their friendship can be salvaged in the end.
So instead of spending time and energy on the mess that is the New Directions – because even with the split that's who they are – Kurt throws himself into making the most of his time at Dalton.
“I'm sorry we can't give you a solo.”
Kurt stares at Sebastian. A solo? Where did that come from? Because honestly, Kurt hadn't expect one, nor had he entirely decided if he should audition for one or not.
“We talked about it and we all know you could use it, and none of us is applying to performing arts' schools. It's simply too close to Sectionals for us to rework our setlist. Not if we want to go on to Regionals. If we do though, then we've agreed that you get a solo.”
There's a hint of pink on Sebastian's cheeks, but Kurt doesn't have the energy to try and analyze that now. It's probably Sebastian's way of apologizing or something.
“Auditions?”
“Right. I guess that this is when I tell you that the Warblers have changed how things are run. Used to be someone auditioned, and then the council decided. Only everyone knew that auditions pretty much were a sham. David and Thad admitted as much themselves, once the others started pushing. After all, it is kind of hard to pretend auditions matter when the person ending up with all the solos never even participated in the auditions in the first place.”
Which... True. Kurt just never thought the Warblers would become aware enough to see that. Maybe it's a side-effect of Wes being gone. Him and his cursed gavel...
“So now the council is gone, and everyone gets a vote on solos. And this time everyone agreed that if we make it to Regionals it was only fair to offer you a spot.”
And well, that changes things. Hopefully.
“Well, it's much appreciated either way. It's a little too late to add a Regionals solo on my NYADA application but I should be able to add it to some of the others.”
Because he is applying to other schools, regardless of what he and Rachel agreed to. Only applying to one school? Insanity. Especially a school like NYADA, which accept only 60 students per year, and only 20 of them for the concentration Kurt (and Rachel) had applied for. What if they doesn't accept him, then what? Was he supposed to stay in Lima and reapply? Spend a year or several working at the garage or in some store while his meager CV became more and more dust-covered by the minute?
No. He's applying to every school in New York that'll suit him – and a few that won't – plus another couple elsewhere. He's even considering throwing in an application to Ohio State, since the campus in Columbus offers a couple of options when it comes to theater and music. Not that he wants to stay in Ohio, not really, but he'll go just about anywhere as long as it's not Lima.
“Well, dreaming about Regionals is all very nice, but we're not there yet. Also, there are other things to consider as well, like passing all my classes. You wouldn't be willing to lend me your notes for French for a night or two, would you? Oh, and I'm not sure I interpreted the third question for our advanced reading homework correctly, so do you think we could sit down and talk it over?”
It's easier to focus on schoolwork, on grammar and linguistics, than on the strangeness of Sebastian's actions. Much easier.
Sectionals comes and goes – and leaves a trophy behind. The Warblers celebrate, and Kurt with them. If his joy is also about the possibility of a solo... Well. Who can blame him?
That is, of course, if what Sebastian said still goes. There's no reason to think it shouldn't, not really, but Kurt remembers being burnt too well to not be cautious.
Regardless, they won't be competing against the New Directions at Regionals. The Troubletones had wiped the floor with their former teammates, and Kurt can't say he's surprised. Finn isn't either, even if it's obvious that he's unhappy about it. Oh, he tries to hide it, but. He's used to winning, loves it, and was already thinking about how to do better at Nationals than last years.
And now that's not going to happen.
“They deserved it, I don't care what anyone” read Rachel “thinks. I know how much they've been rehearsing.”
And the New Directions, true to form, hadn't. Or so Kurt supposes. After all, they hadn't had a setlist when he left, and Finn hasn't complained about suddenly ending up with a ton of extra rehearsals.
“Finn? I know they are good, but I also know you guys are. And it's okay if you're not happy about losing, even to them. It sucks to lose something you really want and losing to your friends doesn't make it easier. Not at first at least.”
“Experience talking, huh?”
“Mmmmmmm.”
Kurt still remembers how it'd hurt to lose to his friends, and not even going back to them had made it feel better. He'd gone to Nationals feeling that he didn't deserve it, and knowing that Mr Schue thought the same.
“You know what really sucks about all of this? We had a suggestion for a setlist that would have given us the win. Michael Jackson songs, solos for everyone... I think it would have been awesome.”
“Let me guess, Rachel flipped.”
It's not even a question, because obviously she would have. Allowing everyone solos? No matter how small, that would have meant less time in the spotlight for her. Just as it wouldn't have mattered how great the suggested songs were, because Michael Jackson isn't something Rachel would be able to do well.
And of course Mr Schue would have folded faster than wet cardboard once she started complaining, neither of them caring that by catering to Rachel's demands they weakened the group.
“Oh yeah. And now she's on a 'woe is me because NYADA' tear, and it's driving me insane. Well, everyone. I'm pretty sure Tina's on the verge of punching her. Plus, she... Anyway, Glee sucks now.”
“She's blaming me, isn't she? For leaving, and for supposedly making Blaine leave.”
It makes sense, in a totally-not-unless-you're-Rachel-Berry way, and it's nothing less than Kurt's been expecting if he's honest. Because there's no way Rachel would ever lose gracefully, just as there's no way she'd accept the rightful blame for having messed up.
“You guessed that, huh? Yeah, sorry. I don't know what's gotten into her, I swear.”
“She's being the worst version of herself. I knew I made myself a target by leaving, I just didn't care. Then again I already was one, so I guess that's 'bigger' target. And I can't imagine she took it any better knowing that the Warblers won our Sectionals.”
Kurt can practically hear Finn wince over the phone, which is never an encouraging thing – and yet, much too frequent with Rachel Berry in the picture.
“I...might have told her that I wouldn't talk to her about it, and walked out the door when she did it anyway?”
Kurt removes the phone from his ear, stares at it, shakes it to see if anything is broken inside, stares at it again and then replaces it.
“I'm sorry, you what? Are you telling me you finally located your balls when it comes to a girl?”
And then it's Kurt's time to audibly wince, because while true that's also extremely rude – and crude – and Finn doesn't deserve it. Not even though it's true.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.”
“Nah, it's nothing I don't deserve. I just, I've had it okay? I love Rachel, I do, but sometimes I'm not so sure I like her. And the past few weeks have been worse than usual. When we got back together it was supposed to be for this year, since she's going to New York after graduation. Which I figured I could get around, you know? Part of me wants to ask her to marry me and commit to going to New York with her. Another part figured it'll never work since she can't respect anything or anyone outside of herself and her dreams.
“She only changed her mind about sex because Artie told her she wasn't credible onstage otherwise, and she didn't even tell me at first. Then she's been an absolute bitch about everything with you. So let's say I change her mind and we get married. What else will she do?
“I'm not sure about being with her at all anymore, and it's not breaking my heart like it should.”
Hearing that? Kind of breaks Kurt's heart though. Once upon a time he'd have been ecstatic to hear something like this from Finn. Now he's grown beyond that, and all he wants for Finn is happiness. (That he's not sure Rachel can provide that isn't really the point. Up until now Finn has believed it, and that's the only thing that matters.)
“I'm sorry. Do you... I'll be home Friday evening. Want me to bring some cookies and watch a movie, or do you have plans?”
“Peanut butter chocolate chips? Plus, Captain America comes out on DVD this week, and I know you like Chris Evans.”
“I really really do.”
They both laugh, and if Finn's is a bit strained neither of them are going to admit it. What's important here is that regardless of everything they've got each other.
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aces-to-apples · 5 years
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halo, spartans, and rvb deep lore
so
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you wanna incorporate spartan lore into your rvb fic
okay then, first thing’s first: what you have to know, first and foremost, about the spartans (beyond a genuinely stupid amount of backstory) is that everything about the SPARTAN-II Program (not to be confused with the original ORION Project, or the subsequent SPARTAN-III or SPARTAN-IV Programs) from start to finish is fucking buckwild
tw: child abuse, kidnapping, mental abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, human experimentation, human rights violations, medical experimentation, child soldiers, slavery, murder, torture, ptsd, war, genocide, psychosis, non-consensual body modification, suicide (i missed that one, sorry), let me know if i missed anything
ORION Project (retroactively termed “SPARTAN-I Program”)
okay so picture this, it’s 2494. humans have been out there, colonizing space for a good couple hundred years. there’s a Unified Earth Government. there’s a United Nations Space Command. everything still runs on capitalism, and the military is basically the government. now up until now, because Capitalism, earth and its closest neighbors (the Inner Colonies) have been demanding more and more from the poorer and sparser working class Outer Colonies with diminishing returns for the Outer Colonies because space capitalism, and it’s been getting progressively worse and worse for decades. it’s very star wars, slow decay of the republic, because CAPITALISM IN SPACE, folks! so, 2494, after decades of trying to negotiate better conditions and compromises with a government that doesn’t listen and doesn’t care, finally the demands for independence start pouring in in earnest. these demands are, of course, denied, with prejudice. fighting breaks out; it’s unofficial war. the Insurrection. unbeknownst to you, humble average joe trying to live your life without GODDAMN SPACE CAPITALISM, the unsc (specifically ONI, the office of naval intelligence, which is basically the space CIA, who does all the really shady shit) saw the writing on the wall a few years before and put restarted the efforts to biochemically augment regular soldiers for more effective use. super soldiers, ya dig?
(full disclosure: they’ve been trying this for years, decades, like a century and a half or some shit but it never really worked out and last time they tried it, in like 2321 or some shit, they scrapped it and shove the initial volunteers back into regular duty and they all ended up mysteriously dying.)
so, super soldiers. stronger, faster, enhanced sight and hearing, enhanced brain function, the works. and work it does, sort of. the first 65 test subjects are a success, and deployed in 2496 because the Insurrection is picking up steam and actually winning battles and taking control of new territory and using spies and just basically freaking the shit out of the military. another batch goes into the works. things get worse. bombings continue, insurrectionists grow bolder, spies become harder to root out, civilians get caught in the crossfire, hatred for the unsc continues to grow. at its height, there are 300 active duty ORIONs, and they’re good at what they do, but it’s not enough. because of War and also Science, the ORIONs also become a game of diminishing returns, most of them growing too traumatized, too jaded, too sympathetic to the insurrection, or too sick (physically, mentally, and even genetically) to continue. 2502: the leader of the Secessionist Union is assassinated by the ORIONs, the Union falls apart but the Insurrection only gains strength from a martyr, and honestly when does any military actually stay smart and efficient? the ORION Project is quietly retired in 2506 and the remaining 165 active duty ORIONs reintegrated back into regular unsc.
(another quick aside here: the Insurrection refers less to any specific group of insurgents and more of the overall cause of independence from earth imperialism. the Secessionist Union was the most visible, organized, and effective of the bunch, having gather about a dozen world initially to all petition for sovereignty from the Unified Earth Government.)
(fun fact: ODSTs (Orbital Drop Shock Troopers) were modeled off of the ORIONs and became the most badass and effective soldiers in the UNSC, barring SPARTANs themselves.)
(another one: due to all the biochemical and genetic fuckery, the ORIONs who didn’t develop ridiculous scary physical/genetic health problems, or completely understand mental health problems, really did kind of end up like captain america-y super soldiers and continued serving well past when a baseline human would have retired or just gotten Too Old For This Shit. Avery Johnson, a notable and dare i say Iconic character from the Halo franchise, was an ORION and that led him to surviving: all of the ORION Project fuckery missions, the Harvest incident AKA: When Humans Met Covenant And It Went Poorly, the Fall of Reach AKA: When The Covenant After 20 Years Of War Found And Glassed Earth’s Next-Door Neighbor Signalling The Beginning Of The End Cuz When They Found Earth It Was All Gonna Be Fucking Over, the Battle of Installation 04 AKA: Halo 1, and the first Battle of Earth and the Battle of Installation 05 AKA: Halo 2. he was a key leader in the Human-Covenant Alliance following the Great Schism and participated in the Battles for the Ark and Installation 08 AKA: When The Elites Realized Their Religious Leaders Were Full Of Shit And Started Their Own Rebellion And Teamed Up With Humanity To Stop The Flood From Spreading Or The Halo Installations From Firing And Wiping Out All Sentient Life In The Galaxy AKA: Halo 3. also, the biochemical fuckery kept the flood, aka: space zombies via spores, from infecting him. the monitor, also known as epsilon’s ball-form, shot and killed johnson with his lazer face at the end of halo 3. i cried. this badass motherfucker survived like legit 55 years of war to be taken out by an a.i. who can’t wear pants having an existential crisis.)
SPARTAN-II Program (spiritual successor to ORION Project)
2510. shit’s been fucked for awhile. the Unified Earth Government and the United Nations Space Command have been fighting an unofficial civil war for like 15 years. people are Tired, they want the war to end, but they don’t want to admit that they’re in the wrong, so they decide to throw more firepower at the problem. enter Dr. Catherine Halsey, a motherfucking 18 year old civilian child prodigy scientist, I DIDN’T EVEN FUCKING KNOW THAT SHE WAS THAT FUCKING YOUNG WHAT THE F U C K, walks up to the Vice Admiral of ONI (remember, Space CIA, alllll the shady shit) and says “hey i got an idea let’s try super soldiers again but this time it’s Worse” and ONI fucking agree because ONI is Fucked Up and i fucking Hate them, fuck ONI. anyway, it’s “spartan episode 2: attack of the clones” up in here. oh, you think i’m kidding? you think i jest?
“the first problem is,” says arrogant petulant 18 year old catherine halsey who’s never been told no a day in her life because she’s just So Smart, she’s Emily Grey up in this bitch but without the perky attitude or respect for people’s wishes when they say they don’t want a robot arm, “the problem with the orions was that the genetic fuckery y’all did was done all willy-nilly, y’all didn’t even make sure the soldiers would be compatible. now you’re got avery johnson, real like Captain America, running around but also orions who retired and had children need to give their kids special injections on the regular to keep their genes where and doing what they’re supposed to be. so you gotta genetically test all your subjects before you fuck with their dna.”
“okay, that makes sense,” says oni, “go on.”
“right so the second problem is,” says halsey, who will eventually become pretty much the worst that Humanity has to offer to the Universe, in my opinion, “that some of your knock-off super soldiers developed a little touch of the ol’ ptsd, or caught some Feelings about the insurrection maybe being Not Wrong, so we gotta make sure to brainwash—i’m sorry, did i say brainwash, i meant indoctrinate—all your slaves—i mean subjects!—in Military Values and Warfare because who wants super soldiers with empathy. so they’ve gotta be pretty young, which ties in nicely with the genetic component which requires they be prepubescent. neat, right?”
“brainwash children,” oni replies, nodding and making notes, “got it. anything else?”
“ah ha!” says halsey, whom i hate possibly more than any other fictional character across the board. “so! after we find these really genetically specific children who are all in the single digits, all possessing not only genetic but superior physical and mental capabilities, and after we kidnap them and replace them with flash clones—which, i’ll remind you, are illegal to create because flash-cloning speeds up the development of the cloned fetus to such degrees that they almost unfailingly develop compounding biological and congenital defects that cannot be corrected us thus almost all of them end up dying awful painful deaths—so we abduct the children and replace them with clones almost guaranteed to die quickly, ruining untold hundreds of lives in the process, we’ll physically, mentally, and emotionally abuse them into compliance and ruin any chance of them functioning in society by turning them into child soldiers. and then! and this is the really fun part, and then when they’re fourteen we’ll subject them to the most despicable violations of their body that i can possibly concoct using chemical, biological, and physical let’s call them ‘augmentations’ to make them grow obscenely large and strong without their consent because they’re slaves—soldiers!—and really who needs consent or ethics or basic human rights, amirite?”
“entirely,” oni says, nodding in agreement. “so what’s the survival rate on that, by the by?”
“hmm?” asks halsey, distracted by her own fucking evil brilliance, “oh right yeah well you originally okayed that i steal 150 kids from their parents but then i added in that whole flash-clone bullshit to soothe my own almost non-existent conscience so you bumped it down to 75 and then, like, 30 of them won’t survive the augmentation process at all, and then like a dozen of them will become so painfully and tortuously disabled that we’ll just kick them out of the project—you guys can find a use for those wash-outs, right?—and like a couple of them will probably kill themselves so like…” halsey trails off, counting her fingers silently. “33, maybe? did i count that right? yeah so like between thirty and thirty-five i’d say. less than half, to be sure! that’s cool right?”
“…….sounds good to me!” oni agrees enthusiastically, because they’re irredeemable pieces of shit. “what happens next?”
what happens next, dear readers, is that after all the children are kidnapped when they’re six years old in 2517, they’re treated like *waves hand in above direction* THAT, until 2525, when the planet of Harvest was discovered by the Covenant. you know, that alien coalition that decides to wipe humanity out of existence for Religious Reasons. i won’t get into the politics of the covenant because even after all of this i think that’s Too Much, but suffice it to say that the leaders of the Covenant were Full of Shit and They Knew It Too. so, harvest happens, and Covies go on a decades long rampage, and the insurrection doesn’t so much die as it gets sort of pushed to the side because Genocidal Aliens. so the Covies are glassing planets left and right—despite the Cole Protocol which states that any UNSC or civilian ship must not make any direct slipspace jumps from Covie engagements to any human populated planet because they can track slipspace vectors and calculate where you’ll come out, and also if you have to evacuate then you damn well wipe all your data and activate the ship’s self-destruct so they can’t find more humans to mercilessly murder—and with the addition of Genocidal Aliens to the mix, the SPARTAN-II Program speeds the fuck up and introduces Project MJOLNIR.
MJOLNIR Power Assault Armor, a high-powered 1000 lb. combat exoskeleton system designed not just to protect, but to enhance the already substantial physical capabilities of the spartans (all now somewhere in the upper six-foot range, to my memory) and to house fully-formed smart a.i.
(a.i… are a whole ‘nother deal. quick an dirty version: a ‘dumb’ a.i. is programmed like any other and can continue on as it is pretty much as long as its physical contain can. a ‘smart’ a.i., on the other hand, is based on an actual human brain but due to the limited nature of its processing matrix, the longer it operates, the less ‘space’ it has in its ‘brain’. a smart a.i. times out around seven years, sometimes before, because it literally thinks itself to death. once it times out, they call it rampancy. remember that term? yeah, it’s cuz season 10 talked about the four stages of rampancy, which can be compared to human psychosis, at which point the a.i., having been gathering incomprehensible amounts of data for seven years, begins to break down and dip into, kind of, debilitating amounts of emotion. sigma wanted to achieve the meta phase because it was the closest he could find to being human again, but he needed all of the fragments collected again because merging together might make them a full a.i. and thus closer to achieving, or i suppose, regaining full personhood.)
right anyway mjolnir armor, the distinctive halo armor, makes spartans absurdly strong and difficult to kill. not invincible, but damn fucking good. the spartans, along with the ODSTs, run of the mill marines, the cole protocol, and human refusal to just lay down and die pretty much holds the line against total annihilation by the Covenant for *checks watch* twenty-seven goddamn years. for twenty-seven years the Covenant sprinted around the galaxy squashing every human colony and settlement they could find but couldn’t find earth or much of the inner colonies. two, three generations of people who never knew anything but war in some form or another is pretty fucked up, guys.
anyway so, fast forward through, Yikes, All Of That to 2552. 2552 was a big year yall. ngl, like twelve huge battles all happened pretty much concurrently right now, but wrt the spartans: the Covenant found Reach, which was pretty much Earth’s next-door neighbor (and, incidentally, where all the spartan ii’s were “trained”) and they found it right when all of the spartans had been recalled back to it for a super secret mission. most of them died. john-117, master chief, and his buddy (i……wanna say linda?) made it off the planet with cortana the a.i., kickstarting the first halo game, while a little group got up to their own crazy space-magic shenanigans that i……i honestly can’t even get into right now, i just can’t, it’s all so fuckin weird and spans like seven books and i honestly don’t remember most of it. so, master chief and cortana the a.i. who is based on halsey’s brain because jen taylor is a hell of a voice actress, go to halo and meet the space zombies and stop halo from firing and killing everyone by blowing it up and that’s basically halo 1 for you. same thing happens in halo 2, except now there’s alien politics and you also get to play as a sangheili soldier who comes to the startling realization that his religious leaders are Full of Shit and starts a civil war. halo 3 is all the crazy shit happening on earth and also more alien politics and honestly i enjoyed that game least so i don’t remember much of it tbh. like i said, most of the spartans die on reach, but john and his buddy who might be linda live, as well as a little handful, one of whom is definitely named fred.
SPARTAN-III Program (AKA: "Make the units better with new technology. Make more of them. And make them cheaper.“) (god everything about this universe is so fucking buckwild)
the spartan ii’s were a resounding success but there literally being less than three-dozen kinda cut down on their usefulness, and also halsey refused to train a second batch of spartans because of her goddamn “age requirement” and like i’m not complaining that more children weren’t abducted and experimented on but halsey really was a fucking moron really just out here to stroke her own damn ego, jesus fucking christ. not, of course, that the spartan iii’s were MUCH better, mind you. so, 2531, six years into the war with the covenant and an equal amount of time without a second batch of spartan ii’s, this asshole called ackerson goes, “pfft, i can make more of these fuckers and i can make them cheaper and i won’t have to kidnap kids, who’s with me?”
and ONI said, “wait we’re not kidnapping anymore?” and it looks kinda put out cuz it likes that shady shit.
“nah,” says ackerson, waving a hand, “we’ll just recruit orphans from glassed planets who have a grudge against the covenant. like, ya know, eight and nine years olds and shit. it’ll be fine.”
so the first batch of spartan iii’s was produced in 2531: alpha company, 300 strong, all of whom survived the augmentation process at the age of twelve because it, like, got refined and dulled down a little or something, it’s been awhile. so alpha company is doing good, real good, trained by a the guy who trained the spartan ii’s and even one of the spartan ii’s themself.
(kurt-051, also known as kurt ambrose, real name kurt trevelyan because the spartan program literally fucked him up so bad he couldn’t remember his family name so ackerson just fucking gave him one, oh my gooood. anyway, so kurt was the leader of green team and they were sent on a mission but ONI fucking, they fuckin sabotaged his jetpack so that it malfunctions while in space so that he’s presumed dead but actually ONI just abducted him so he could train the spartan iii’s without halsey knowing about it because MILITARY POLITICS I GUESS?)
right anyway so alpha company, they do good, they do good, and then nine months after deployment in 2537 all of them (with a few exceptions who got pulled out to do other shit in other branches) get wiped out in Operation: PROMETHEUS, a mission to destroy a Covie shipyard or whatever. ONE-HUNDRED PERCENT CASUALTY RATE. okay, so, this is fine, we’ll try again. 2539, beta company, 300 strong, we’ll train them even harsher than the spartan ii’s were, drill them even more on unit cohesion. what happens, can you fucking guess? 2545, DING DONG, YOU ARE WRONG, same thing fucking happens in Operation: TORPEDO. only two survivors of that massacre, and the handfuls who weren’t sent on the suicide mission en masse.
in halo: reach, the game that bridge halos 3 and 4, carter, emile, jun, and thom (who was the original noble six, whom you, the player, replace in-game after he dies) are spartan iii’s from alpha company. kat and the player’s character, spartan-b312, are from beta company. jorge is an og spartan ii. there were also rumors of a couple different teams of iii’s helping evacuate civilians from reach at the same time. the LONEWOLF Headhunters were also spartan iii’s: basically two-person assassin teams.
(also, just to clarify, because the appeal of spartan iii was that it was cheaper, not all, and not even many, of the spartan iii’s were issued mjolnir armor, because making a single suit cost as much as making a full battleship. because space capitalism.)
alright, so, gamma company, third time’s the charm. 330, average age of six years old, all of them survived augmentation in 2551 and were shipped out only a few weeks after the fall of reach, so around december of 2552/january of 2553, maybe. NOW LET’S TALK ABOUT PROJECT CHRYSANTHEMUM! Project CHRYSANTHEMUM was the name given to the NEW AND IMPROVED biological augmentations given to gamma company. you wanna know what makes them new and improved? why, fucking up your brain to make it wayyyyyy more aggressive, resistant to shock, and more able to access the “animal part of the brain in times of shock”! i mean, when you hear “depresses higher reason centers of the brain over time; requires regular doses of [special meds] to be taken to avoid uncontrollable aggression” doesn’t that just fill you with confidence and positivity and something that isn’t homicidal rage?? so yeah in addition to having the body of an adult olympic athlete at fucking twelve years old and stupid fast and three times as strong as a normal soldier, now your brain can’t regulate itself! isn’t that fucking dandy! take your smoothers kids or you might just murder everyone in sight!
delta company was scheduled to be a thing but was likely never put into practice. why they went out of order on the naming i’m not sure.
the spartan-iii program was disbanded after the end of the human-covenant war in 2553 and the remaining spartan ii’s and iii’s were folded into Spartan Operations, which was a brand-spanking new military branch designed specifically for oversight of spartans because…
SPARTAN-IV PROGRAM (AKA: And Look At That, We’re Back To Consenting Adults)
2550. listen yall. shit. shit’s fucked aight? has been for awhile. and like maybe, maybe super soldiers in walking tanks is too much to ask for? maybe just regular super soldiers, but ones that are already full-grown? yeah let’s go back to the drawing board on that one. yeah let’s just do some unauthorized testing—whoops! 10% survival rate, that bites. let’s just, uh, not tell anyone about that—
“hey there,” says lieutenant commander musa, former spartan ii candidate who was tortuously disabled by the augmentation process and carries a grudge the size of pluto against catherine halsey.
“we weren’t doing anything!” shouts oni, because fuck you, oni.
“i wanna help make more spartans,” says musa. “i hate halsey with every fiber of my being but spartans are doing good work, important work, and i wanna help them do it but only if they’re consenting adults.”
oni looks at that latest batch of spartan iii’s who, due to circumstances, had to go off their smoothers during a planetary battle and freaked out everyone and their mother. “yeah good call.”
so with ackerson dead and halsey fucking finally arrested for war crimes, musa and jun (spartan iii and only survivor of noble team from halo: reach) take the lead on the spartan iv’s, the candidates of which are pooled from fully-grown human adults in a variety of military branches, from grizzled veterans to promising young soldiers with experience under their belts.
2553, the first batch of 145 iv’s is live, include My Girl Commander Sarah Palmer who kicks ass and takes names. 2554, second class is initiated. SPARTAN-IV Program is headquartered in a dedicated facility on Mars; spartan iv’s are trained in a top-secret facility orbiting an unnamed dwarf planet.
as previously mentioned, spartans gain their own military branch, Spartan Operations, and remaining ii’s and iii’s are offered to be folded into the new branch. many accept, but some decline in favor of non-combat roles. hundreds of spartans are assigned to the UNSC Infinity, literally the biggest fucking ship in human history, i love it so much it’s great. in halo: 4, a big part of the plot is that john was missing for like four years and when he’s found again there’s this fuck-off big ship filled with people calling themselves spartans who are also fuck-off big but also Strangers. anyway i love the spartan iv’s and anyone who didn’t like spartan ops or halo: infinity are cordially invited to me in the fucking pit.
SO! i’ve been at this for literal hours and am going to bed now! hope you learned something helpful, i’m sure i forgot a lot of shit, not even including all the shit that i left out on purpose because it’s two in the goddamn morning.
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katwriting · 5 years
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Fic: Lights will guide you home
My secrent santa present for @mirrorofliterature and the first fic I’ve published in over 10 months (so bear with me, haha). Hope you guys like it 💜
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After weeks of ignoring what happened, Magnus finally deals with the loss of his magic. The most difficult thing about it? Talking to Alec.
"Magnus, wait."
"It's fine, Alexander."
Alec's voice was soft, yet decisive when he replied. "No. It's not. And it hasn't been for weeks now."
Word count: 4,189 | Read on AO3
When you lose something you can't replace when you love someone but it goes to waste could it be worse?
Mornings were the easiest to handle. Those first few precious minutes of the day, when Magnus was almost awake, yet still too deep under to be considered a functioning member of society. When everything was a fuzzy blur, somewhere in between sleep and reality, when his eyes were still closed and all he could feel was the soft blanked wrapped around himself and the warmth of Alec's sleeping form resting next to him.
Magnus adored those fleeting few seconds. For one, because they were a little moment of quiet before the craziness of the day really started. They were also incredibly precious. Because as soon as Magnus broke through the warm, comfortable haze of having just woken up, he started to remember. And with the memories came the pain.
For the first couple of days after they had brought Jace back it hadn't been that bad. Magnus had barely had time to concentrate on the loss of his magic, had been way too focused on everything else that had been going on. There had been so much to do. Jace had had to settle back into his old life, now finally free of Lilith. Alec had had to get back on track after having his arm broken, which had been more difficult than they'd expected since Alec hadn't healed as quickly as he used to without the help of Magnus' magic. Catarina had done her best to fix his broken wrist and take care of the arrow wound in his chest, but even though she was a powerful warlock, her healing powers didn’t quite measure up to what Magnus was capable of.
Had been capable of.
There it was. That slight sting in his heart that being utterly unhelpful brought with it. The way his chest tightened whenever he was reminded of one of the many things he wasn't able to do anymore. The distant, yet no less persistent bitterness constantly reminding him of what he'd lost.
It had been weeks since he'd lost his magic and if Magnus was being quite honest with himself, then every single day was a struggle. Alec and him hadn't talked about what had happened. Not really. It wasn't that Alec hadn't tried to talk to him about it – he had, multiple times even. The problem was that Magnus didn't want to talk about it.
He couldn't. Because he didn't know what to say.
Magnus had gone through his fair share of rough patches in his many years on earth. From his troubled childhood in Indonesia to the years with Asmodeus to every single time he'd lost a dear friend or lover to the cruel grasp of time, illness or injury. Sometimes, he'd gotten through those phases through talking, sometimes by drinking himself into oblivion, sometimes by throwing himself into some reckless adventure. He'd tried to outrun heartbreak so often that he'd become an expert at it.  
But this, losing his magic, losing such an integral part of him, was different. It didn't hurt like a broken heart did. He just felt empty. Ever since that first night, when he had snapped his fingers out of habit to switch off the lights in their bedroom and felt that cold emptiness wrap around him like a heavy weight at the realization that he was unable to, he'd never been able to shake the odd feeling of something missing. And he couldn't get used to it either.
Magnus sighed and tried to ignore the bitterness rising in his chest, a familiar feeling these days. Of course he hadn't been able to get used to it. How could he, when everything in his life, in his very apartment constantly reminded him of what he had been able to do, who he had been?
Magnus let his eyes drift through the room, which despite its intricate décor felt different these days. The colors seemed less vibrant, the gold details dull – hell, the entire apartment wasn't the same without his magic thrumming in every fiber of it. His gaze eventually landed on Alec, who was still sound asleep next to him. With Magnus as his main source of warmth gone, the Shadowhunter had now shifted and was lying on his stomach, most of his face hidden in the pillow.   Magnus reached over and adjusted the blanket, fingers brushing over sleep-warm skin.
If only he could sleep as well as Alec these days.  
Pushing his covers and bitter thoughts aside, Magnus got up and padded towards the kitchen, getting on with his first mission of the day: making coffee.
+++
As Magnus learned only a short while later, it would have been a better idea to stay in bed altogether. Or just skip the day altogether. Because from the moment he'd woken up, that day seemed to have decided to show him how utterly terrible life could be.
It started out somewhat innocently, with the floor heating in their kitchen not working yet again. This wasn't exactly new, Magnus' apartment building was quite old and incidents like that happened from time to time. Up until a few weeks ago, he would have fixed it with a snap of his fingers, but given his current situation, he had to resort to more mundane means. Quite literally, since Catarina was out of town and Magnus didn't have many allies left in the warlock community after the fight with Lorenzo and his dismissal as High Warlock.
That news had spread fast. But the news of the great Magnus Bane giving up is magic for his Shadowhunter boyfriend's parabatai had spread like a raging wildfire. Magnus was always up for the latest rumors and gossip from the Downworld, but he definitely didn't need to hear them when they were about him. He did his best to not let them get to him, but crossing paths with former fellow warlocks on the street and suffering through forced small talk - or even worse, them trying to hide their pity - was wearing down on him.
He felt miserable. And he was tired of it.  
Which was probably the reason why he didn't lash out on the young, unexperienced warlock who knocked on his front door later in the day and asked for advice, but just tiredly asked him to contact the current High Warlock about it. And it was also the reason why he didn't say anything when the mundane heating engineer he'd called earlier that day stopped by in the late afternoon to fix their floor heating and left mud stains on Magnus' expensive light beige living room carpet, he just waved off his apology and saw him out.
He even managed to get through a video call with Catarina and Madzie, who were at a warlock conference in South Africa, and smile at Madzie when she showed him the latest magical tricks she had learned. He praised and cheered with her when she showed him that she had already mastered the first steps of a spell that should be rather complicated for someone so young.  Although watching her do the things he had taught her just a few weeks ago but now was no longer able to do hurt more than the rest of that day's struggles combined.
Magnus could have been above it. Could have filed that day as a particularly miserable one and gone on with life. He would have done it, if only life hadn't decided to stab him in the back one more time that evening.
He was just about to settle with a pot of green tea into the living room and try to relax a little to end the day on a somewhat high note when his foot got caught on the doorstep, he tripped, reached for the doorjamb to regain his balance – and dropped the teapot in the process. The second it crashed to the floor, it burst into dozens of shards, the tea splattering over both the kitchen tiles and the wooden living room floor.  
Great.
If Magnus had had access to his magic in that moment, he was pretty sure it would have been bright red with anger. He'd never felt more like lashing out with his magic, red sparks and minor damage to his apartment included. Instead, all he could do was stand there, breathing in and out and trying his best to push the anger away.
And of course that was the moment that Alec came home.
Magnus heard Alec throwing his keys into the bowl by the door and noticed his familiar steps across the carpet, but didn't react to him until Alec was standing right in front of him, taking in the mess that the teapot had left behind.
"Careful, you don't have shoes on. Let me help you with that."
Instead of replying, Magnus raised a hand, making Alec stop dead in his efforts. His eyes were closed, he was breathing heavily and he could feel the past few weeks' anger and disappointment seething in his chest, burning his insides on their inevitable way to the surface.
"Don't. Just…just leave it. I'll take care of this later" he heaved out, voice pressed. He turned around, blood rushing in his veins and thoughts rushing with them. He was about to dash off towards their bedroom so he wouldn't lash out on Alec, when a firm grip on his arm stopped him.
"Magnus, wait."  
"It's fine, Alexander."
Alec's voice was soft, yet decisive when he replied. "No. It's not and it hasn't been for weeks now." He stepped in front of Magnus so he could look him in the eye. His other hand rested on the side of Magnus' face, thumb softly brushing over his skin, providing the warmth and comfort Magnus was so desperately lacking these days.
"I know you're hurting, Magnus. Even though you pretend you're not," Alec said, his voice a lot gentler now. "I know it hasn't been an easy situation for you and I guess I might not be the right person to talk to since I have no idea what it feels like to lose your magic like that, but…I just want you to know that I'm here. If you need someone to listen."  
Despite his heavy heart and the melancholy and grief that wouldn't let him out of its iron grip, Magnus felt his shoulders relax and his emotions calm down a little. He stepped closer to Alec, wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his in Alec's sweater, breathing in the familiar scent of detergent and Alec's shower gel, enjoying the familiar feeling of Alec holding him and the way it never failed to calm him down. Magnus' tone was low when he replied, almost hesitant but no less honest. "Alexander, you are the only person I would ever want to talk to."
Beneath his ear, Alec's chest heaved with a sigh of relief. Alec's arms that had just gently been holding on to him, as if he wasn't sure whether or not his affection was welcome in that moment, wrapped him into a warm embrace.
"You miss your magic a lot more than you're willing to admit, hm?"
Magnus took in a shaky breath and hugged Alec tighter. "Yeah."
They stood there for a while, not talking at all, the only sound in the room being the soft tunes playing from the stereo in the corner and Magnus' ragged breathing.
When he eventually spoke again, his voice was barely above a murmur, its tone defeated. "It's just so hard, you know."
Alec's embrace only tightened, wrapping up in the gentle comfort that only Alec seemed to be able to give him. "I know."
With a deep breath, Magnus pulled away and hesitantly looked at Alec. Taking another breath, he braced himself for what was to come. "Then let's talk."
+++
Sharing how he felt about the loss of his magic wasn't easy. Actually, it was even more difficult than Magnus had anticipated it to be. The past few weeks he had pushed his anger and sadness aside, locked it away so he wouldn't constantly be reminded of what he'd lost. But sitting on his living room couch, one of his hands in Alec's while he remembered everything that he had so carefully pushed away for weeks hurt. Magnus knew that he could trust Alec with his life, and yet it still took everything out of him to let the Shadowhunter in on how he was feeling.
But Alec had never disappointed him in a precarious situation like this and neither did he this time. He didn't say much, just let Magnus ramble, but his posture, expression and the soft look in his eyes signaled Magnus in that very unique Alec way that his attention was completely on Magnus and Magnus only. It was one of the qualities Magnus loved most about Alec – whatever he did, he did with his whole heart. Even if it was dealing with his boyfriend's lousy heartache mood.
Later that evening, when they were already in bed and Magnus was cuddled up in Alec's arms and had long passed out, exhausted from letting himself be vulnerable and even more exhausted from pretending the opposite for so long, an idea came to Alec's mind. With a soft smirk, he reached over to switch off the lights, the idea already turning into a plan as Alec drifted off to sleep.
+++
Magnus slept well into the next morning. The previous day had taken its toll on him, especially the talk with Alec, and left him exhausted. He hadn't dreamt at all that night, which was unusual, but woke up the most well-rested he had in months, which was even more unusual.
However, the most unusual thing was that the bed beside him wasn't empty. When Magnus had gathered his senses enough to open his eyes, Alec was laying on his side, one arm serving as a pillow for his head, the other reached out to brush a stray strand of hair out of Magnus' face.
"Morning". Alec's voice was soft when he spoke and definitely too little grumbly for him to have just woken up. That in combination with the fact that Alec had slept in on a weekday made Magnus even more suspicious, but given that Alec looked so very adorable in this disheveled look, he didn't really care.
"Good morning, Alexander," Magnus replied, his own voice heavy with sleep. He let out a yawn and then looked at Alec again, who was still smiling softly at him. "Shouldn't you be at the Institute? I believe that your office start quite some time before –" he said and paused to crane his neck so he could look at the alarm clock on Alec's nightstand, "ten thirty in the morning."
Alec chuckled. "I took the day off. They can deal without me for 24 hours."
"You sure about that?"
"Well they'll have to. I already made breakfast."
Magnus chuckled. "So that's the reason for the slightly Edom-esque smell in here."
"That and the fact that I may have left the first pancake in the pan for a little too long," Alec admitted. He dropped a peck on Magnus' cheek and then rolled out of bed. "You stay put, I'm gonna go get the food."
"Don't you worry, Shadowhunter. I'm not going anywhere."
As heavy and emotional the previous evening had been for both of them, their shared breakfast in bed made more than up for it. As opposed to their talk the previous night the atmosphere was now lighter and more relaxed, without a hint at how difficult the day before had been for Magnus. He was so busy laughing, chatting (and kissing) Alec that he almost forgot his little crisis had happened at all. But that was the point – almost. As soon as Magnus spilled some of his coffee onto the sheets, automatically snapped his fingers to magic it away and nothing happened, the feeling from earlier was back again, pushing onto his shoulders like a heavy weight and making his entire chest tighten so much that he felt like he couldn't breathe.
This time, however, he wasn't all by himself.
As soon as Magnus tensed up, Alec was there, softly rubbing his back and murmuring soft encouragements until Magnus' shoulders relaxed and his breathing evened out a little.
"I'm sorry," Magnus muttered, fingers nervously playing with the now coffee-stained blanket thrown over their feet.
Alec shook his head. "Hey, don't be sorry for something that's not your fault. We talked about this yesterday. I'm here. Every step of the way, remember?"
Magnus sighed. "I know. Thank you."
Alec looked at him for a second with a stern gaze, as if he was making sure that Magnus really was better, then smiled softly at him and leaned in for a soft kiss. "Anytime. Now – we need to get up, I have plans for us today."
Magnus frowned, somewhat hesitant but also very much intrigued. "Plans, you say? Any chance you're going to let me in on what kind of plans those are?"
The Shadowhunter grinned at him, impossibly smug. "Nope. But I can tell you that they're plans that involve us getting out of bed and leaving the apartment, so let's get going!"
+++
Alec did not disappoint. Once they had finally made it out of the apartment (Magnus not having access to his magic did not mean that he wasn't going to dress to impress when he was leaving the apartment, thank you very much), he took Magnus to their favorite coffee shop where they grabbed some coffee to go (or "sugar in a paper cup" as Alec liked to call Magnus' – admittedly insanely sweet – drink of choice).  
When they were standing on the sidewalk in front of the shop, drinks in hand, Magnus took a sip of his coffee and looked at Alec. "So now what?"
"Now, I am taking you out on a date"
Magnus raised his eyebrows and then laughed softly. "A date? You do realize it's just past noon, right?"
Alec just smirked and shrugged. "Yep. A date. Just because it's early afternoon doesn't mean I can't take out my gorgeous boyfriend."
"Flattery is going to get you everywhere, my dear," Magnus said, stepping closer to Alec so he could kiss him gently.
Magnus and Alec spent the rest of the day positively all across town. Magnus had been living in New York for decades, but with his former tendency to portal wherever he wanted to go, he had never explored the city the "mundane" way (except for its many bars and nightclubs, those he all knew by heart). Alec, however, had been navigating the city like a mundane for most of his life and knew it like the back of his hand. After spending a few hours at an art gallery which featured some of the artists Magnus had known personally, Alec showed Magnus some of his favorite hidden spots throughout the city. Some of them he had found while chasing after a particularly annoying demon, others just completely by accident while he'd been on a walk to clear his head. All of them were positively gorgeous and the perfect hideaway from the busy, crowded everyday New York life and something so very Alec that Magnus felt his heart flutter with affection.
They even played tourist for a bit and went to see the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, which Magnus had to admit did look beautiful with its lights and decorations and the ice rink in front of it. Of course, they had to take a few hideously adorable pictures and send them to Izzy and Catarina, which earned them snarky remarks but also quite the amount of heart eyes emojis in return. When Magnus suggested trying a few rounds on the ice, Alec sent him a glare that he usually reserved for when people were seriously annoying him at the Institute, but eventually agreed – which led to some of the worst laughing fits Magnus had ever experienced.
He also learned that having all kinds of runes didn't exactly help much when somebody was just a hopeless disaster on the ice. Magnus was tempted to record Alec's first few laps on the ice, the careful steps he took reminding him a lot of a baby trying to walk (including the falling on their butt part – multiple times). But at some point, Alec's military upbringing and endless determination kicked in. He took a break to study Magnus for a little bit and after watching him speed and twirl across the ice for a while, he came back, trying again. With a little help from Magnus and his hand to hold on to, they managed to skate together, fingers intertwined and tiny snowflakes falling around them. Alec took his gaze off the slippery surface in front of him and gazed over to Magnus. His heartbeat quickened at the sight and he felt relief flood through his body – Magnus was beaming, his cheeks were flushed from the cold and his gaze, often cold, distant and dull over the past few weeks, was now warm and shining with glee.
Alec smiled back at him, happy to see the man he loved in better spirits again. When they slowed down, Alec pulled Magnus to a stop and slung his arms around Magnus' waist, pulling him close.
Magnus chuckled. "Already getting tired, Alexander?"
"No. Just enjoying the view."
When they kissed a moment later, their lips were cold, but the way both of their hearts were thrumming inside their chests was enough to keep the both of them warm.
+++
By the time they got back to the loft, they were both way too cold to function. They had walked the last bit of the way home and even though the streets had looked beautiful with the many Christmas decorations and fairly lights adorning many windows, they were glad that they were back.
Magnus had excused himself to the kitchen right after they'd come home and when he came back into the living room, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in each hand (one of them spiked with rum, obviously), he was welcomed by the most adorable sight. Alec had already made himself comfortable on the couch – quite literally. Leaning back into a mountain of pillows, he had one of their warmest, fluffiest blankets thrown over his legs, the sight of him the epitome of coziness. When Magnus approached him and carefully put the mugs down onto the coffee table, Alec lifted the blanket and let Magnus settle against his chest, then covered both of their feet with the blanket again.  
Hot chocolates completely forgotten, Magnus rested his head on Alec's chest, the soft rise and fall of his boyfriend's breathing soothing him. He started fiddling with the leather wristband he had brought Alec from a trip to Europe. The leather was already beginning to get worn and the colors were fading a little, but Alec had not taken it off since the day Magnus had given it to him and refused to let him replace it. Now, it served as a perfect distraction while Magnus was trying to find the right words for what he wanted to say.
In the end, he settled for just saying what he felt, because if their relationship had always been characterized by one thing, it was honesty. "I meant to thank you for today, Alexander."
Alec smiled and dropped a kiss onto Magnus' head. "No big deal. We have so little time to go out on a nice date, the least I could do was put in some effort when I got the chance."
Magnus smiled softly. "We both know this wasn't just about taking me out today."
Alec chuckled. "Not exactly."
Magnus shifted so he could look at Alec. "I know it wasn't. And that's why I appreciate it so much. I know I haven't exactly been the easiest company these past few weeks, but I do appreciate everything you have done for me recently. Even though I may not have shown it."
"Magnus, you have every right to be not quite yourself right now. I can't even imagine what this entire situation must feel like to you. I just wanted to – I don't know, show you how much life as a mundane has to offer, I guess. Show you that even though it's not what you're used to, it can have beautiful sides."
Even after months of dating, Alec's blunt honesty sometimes still managed to catch Magnus off guard. His voice barely carried when he murmured another soft thank you to Alec.
"Anytime. We're going to get through this together, alright? Whatever happens. You and me."
And as much as he was hurting, as bleak as the perspective of facing a life without his magic sounded - in that moment, resting comfortably in their living room, fairy lights and candles tinting the room into a soft yellow glow, Magnus knew that Alec was right.
Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones and I will try to fix you
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what ive always wanted
its really crazy to think where i am now compared to where i was a year ago. i was in the ending stages of a terrible relationship that seemed like it would never end. i never saw a light at the end of that tunnel. the amount of heartbreak and trials and tribulations we endured made it seem like that had to be my forever. i always thought, how could i go through so much heartbreak and turmoil over somebody i wasnt going to marry? i made myself believe that it was all worth it and not a complete waste of time.i made myself believe that because we had gone through so much shit and that it was so terrible, that it had to be right. it had to be what was meant to be, otherwise we wouldnt still be in each others lives. this is where it got toxic. i convinced myself that this abusive relationship was meant to be because it was so bad. sounds a lot more fucked up when i think about it in retrospect. i started realizing he wasnt the one when a few things started happening. lets start with the night he texted me and professed his apologies. something, every time we broke up, i had hoped so badly for. to randomly check my phone and see a text from him knowing what it was about. i remember one time i had woken up from a night i had barely slept, after we broke up, to a text form him. it just read “no.” and i immediatley knew what it was. i also immediately let him back in. that was my frist mistake. anyways, i had gotten that text one night while doing homework on my bed. it was around 11pm and i was finishing up some work due the next day. all my lgiths were on and the tv was on. i remember sitting there just looking at it, and then looking into the distance in confusion, tyrying to determine my feelings about this. it didnt feel the same. i didnt get that same excitement i had so many times before this when the exact same thing happened. something was off. but like old habits, i replied. we talked for a little and he made it clear this wasnt the beginning of a journey to win me back. it was simply him letting me know he was sorry and that he was in pain from everything. and even thought i didnt believe him about much towards the end, i believe this. i truly believe he was starting to feel the loss because it had been the first time we really broke up. something i hadnt really thought of the past few months which was extremely contrair to what is normally the case. we texted and then went to bed. nothing too serious. fast forward a couple months from then and i was sitting in my kitchen. i told alexa to play a song that i had been lsitneing on repeat that day. i sat there and really listened to it and started to think of him, and cry for the first time since we broke up. like really cry. thats when i texted him and told him i needed to see him. so we did. we went to buffalo wild wings and things were weird and we talked and i held his hand for a few seconds and that was it. we didnt really talk about anything and dinner was quick. we then got in my car and somehow it got rbought up and man i wish i could remember. but we both just started bawling. crying our fucking eyes out like a couple of newborn babies. i remember us hugging each other tight and getting snot all over eachothers clothes. and we couldnt stop. we didnt want the night to end so we drove all the way back to my house (which was a half hour away) and sat at the river in my car and cried. we talked a little but mostly cried. hard. im not kidding, all night. obviously when these moments are occuring there is a lot of passion. youre obviously both very upset and vulnerable. i was also really fucking horny. so i started to kiss his neck, and that made him cry harder. and but i kept going, until eventually his tongue was in my mouth. making out and then taking a break to cry more. eventually we were in the backseat of my car fucking. fucking and crying. that kind of sex is always the best, but once its over you instantly know it was the wrong choice. so the sun came up and we said our goodbyes. we had been up all night. i went home and just walked right in, nobody even knew i was out all ngiht. i went right up to bed and fell asleep. i woke up around 1pm and just instantly started crying. i was so confused. part of me was so sad because i didnt know if id ever see him again or what was to come of it, and the other half of me was scared i was going to get sucked back in. see, we had gone about 3 months without really talking or anything and it was the happiest 3 months id had in 3 years. but after that night i realized how much i missed him, but deep down knew how bad he was for me and how toxic it was. half of me that morning was scared i had opened the door even a crack to let him back in. i knew it was no longer the road for me but went with it anyways. so after that we had seen each other again and then were back in each others lives. things were back to how they normally were; terrible. but, if we were back in each others lives after all that shit then we’d have to be the ones for each other, right? no. wrong. compeltely wrong. i was so wrong. this was the first time i had ever felt this way. this is when i started to discover that maybe i would come to my senses and leave him for good. but, i shoved these doubts in the back of my mind and continued the toxic relationship. what made it even worse was that i had been on tinder and he had no idea. meanwhile he thought we were exclusive and working on things. i was messaging guys while he was in my bed. i never really thought about this but damn that was fucked up. this is also how i began to know. i wanted something else. i knew there was somebody out there for me that wasnt him that was just in my reach and so close yet so far away. i just had a true gut feeling that they were coming soon. but i didnt know if that was just a random feeling or it was the truth. so i kept him around. and continued to talk to guys on tinder. some really cool fucking guys. and i never hung out with them because of him. (just letting you know, im a huge advocate for tinder. shit slaps.) another thing that made me believe he wasnt the one was that after sex, i would always cry. not because i was so in love or wish things were better, but because i knew he wasnt the one i was supposed to be having sex with. i felt it my soul. i had never been more sure of anything. then, i started to get annoyed when id see a text from him in the morning. i would start to get annoyed when he would tell me he loves me and id feel forced to say it back. and then i started to forget to answer him. i started to leave him on read unintentionally or forget to open his snapchats. id forget he even existed for a few brief moments, which were nice. i really really really started to know once i stopped loving where he lived. i had fallen more in love with that place than i did with him. that place was something special to me. and i had stopped feeling the same joy there as i always had for 3 years prior. these began to accumulate and i grew unable to ignore them. after his birthday it was so clear. i didnt want to have sex with him i did wahtever i could to avoid it. i dreaded the thought of having to spend an entire weekend with him. i then dreaded having to interact with him when i got home. it had become so clear and so vivid. it was time to leave. for good. and i knew it and i was ready. so sitting in social studies, after he gave me a hard time about not answering his last i love you text, i ended it. i told him i couldnt do it anymore. and he knew. he didnt even put a fight because he could see it in me. he knew it was clear for me that it was over. so the conversation that day was short. i cried in class that day because it was sad. 3 years of constant turbulence was over. i was relieved and happy yet sad. but i deleted him from everything right after i sent the text, deleted our conversation, and it was done. i knew it. i had never known that much before. there was no doubt. every ounce of my soul and being knew it was over and i could finally breathe. i had been putting up with so much shit for 3 years and was finally out. i never thought id have enough strength to get my self out of it which is a terrifying thought. to truly enver think youll get yourself out of a fuckery of a relationship but you did. to pull yourself from the depths of hell and find the light again. truly something special. i knew what i wanted for myself and felt him there the entire time. i knew my future was a kid attending west point but i had no idea how id find him. there was a constant energy pulling me towards west point. i knew he was there and that was waht i wanted. i wanted it so bad. i felt like my soul was being called to there to know the love of my life was there. and after goiong on numerous shit dates, i had finally found him. we had talked for a week adn then stopped talking for about 3. i randomly messaged him and then we made plans to hang out which i baile don. then i called him on snapchat and that was the begining to it all. we talked on the phone for 5 hours that night. when we got off the phone i was like theres no possible way that was the end of it. you dont talk on the phone and connect with somebody like that for 5 hours and then never talk to them again. so the next day i woke up hopeful but with no expectations. this was approximately one month after i had broken up with that piec eof shit so i was enjoying life on my own. i almost didntw ant it to end but i knew that somsething was calling me there. so we texted and he called me the next day. we talked on the phone several times after that, each 4-6 hours long. we finally made plans to hang out. i was at work, sweaty gross and tired aftering training 12 year old gymnasts for 4 hours. but i wanted to go. so i raced home, showered and got dressed and drove to west point. i got there and picked him up right in front of the mailbox. nothing was awkward and everything was going smoothly. we took a walk and sat and talked for 2 hours. no silence, no awkward lulls. nothing. it was great. i had a smile on my face the entire time. we started to walk back and i started to get nervous because i couldnt read the situation. i had hung out with guys before thinking it was going great and then they end up not kissing me at the end. so were standing there, about to say goodbye and then he gives me a hug. and im like fuck man. hes not gonna kiss me... really? shit. that sucks. but then he asks when he can see me again, and my spirit lit back up. we set a day. and then he asked me to kiss him. and i did. a quick one. but it was nice. it was cold and he got boogers on me. i told him and we laughed, and he hugged me and said he was sorry. but it didnt bother me at all. i thought it was cute and funny. i got into my car and immediaately called my best friend. i told her how unreal it was. and that i was praying that this wasnt the end of it. and the weirdest thing of all, was that when i got in the car, bless the broken road by rascall flats came on. i was stunned. i knew right then and there that i had found my forever. the love of my life. the kind of love you see in movies. i felt like i had loved him from the beginning. and then i got a text. one i will rememebr forever. “okay, i kinda like you” and that was the beginning of it all. never had i had a guy tell me straight up how he feels like that. ever. it had always been so unclear and this was the first guy to ever tell me that. from there, we stngarted hanging out more and talking more. and even after the first tim ewe hung out, i missed him. i really did. i truly missed him and it was the strangest thing because we hung out once. how could i miss somebody i hung out with for two hours? what? that was crazy. but then we started hanging out more and then we started dating. and thats when things started to go downhill for me. i was upset i had given up my freedom so fast. i was now bound to another human and respinsible for their feelings. i had to now report to somebody again and make sure i wasnt missing their texts. i had no energy in me from my previuos relationship. it was too soon. and i knew that. i didnt even have energy for arguments. i never wanted to hang out with him and i never wanted to have sex with him. i was straight up mean to him.. even considered breaking up with him multiple times. i did not want to be in that relationship but something in me told me to stay. soemthing in me brought out the life in me. and i started to go from resenting him, to letting him in. i started to be vulnerable again. and very quickly, i started to fall in love with him. i realized i had gotten exactly what i wanted. exactly. what i had prayed for so hard and wished for every second with my entire life. and i really havent sat down to think about that in its entirety. i thought, how cool would it be to date a west point cadet, and be so proud of who they are. and travel to where they live and meet their family and be apart of this culture and make new friends. and i have it. i have it . lik ewaht?! i have it. and hes fucking unreal. he gave me a promise ring because he wants to marry me. and he will. and its what i dreamed of so many fuckking times. i have exactly waht i want and i couldnt be happier. im going to florida in 3 days to be with HIM in his hometown. my west point cadet that lives in florida, im going to visit. like WHAT dude. what teh fuck. crazy. thank you god. 
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Derek- I’m Right Here
Request-  Can you write an imagine with Derek Hale? Reader is dating with him for a long time and she starts to notice that a stranger man is following her everywhere. That man seems very scary and he even tries to catch her, so she doesn't want to go anywhere alone. But reader hasn't told Derek about that man, so one night Derek texts her to meet him in the woods. That man follows her again and even tries to hurt or rape her, but Derek saves her at time. I know it's a mess, but I hope you'll understand!
A/N- I’m three days away from my last day of EMT class, I passed my final, and I realized I need to do more things for myself. I’m trying to get back into writing, so if you guys are here to read, I’m here to give you some stories. Hope you like it!
“Y/n, two at fifty-four!”
Your brow furrowed as you whisked past the dark-haired hostess at the front of the restaurant. You paused in the breezeway and adjusted your grip on the tray you were carrying. “That’s not even in my section.”
“Trina went out to smoke,” she whispered, leaning across her stand. “She said if the managers asked to say she was in the bathroom, and to not seat her until-”
You sighed. “Reese, she’s not supposed to be doing that. I know you’re new, but you can’t let the other servers walk all over you like that, okay?”
Reese frowned, and looked down at her sandaled feet. “I’m sorry. I kind of have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Look,” you told her. “I’ll take it for now, but as soon as I give sixty-two their drinks I’m telling her to get her ass inside and stop making your job any harder than it has to be. God knows this fucking place makes it hard enough.”
You muttered that last part under your breath, but she smiled as she heard it. You winked at her and headed over to your table, placing down the cokes you had been carrying before pulling out your pad. “Have you guys decided yet?”
You smiled as the couple you were serving told you their order, and glanced out over the railing of the outside seating area. Water from the marina splashed gently up against the deck, and the sun shone brightly down on you and the customers. Perhaps the only glamorous thing about your job, the view that accompanied the restaurant was an excellent distraction from the stress that came with it. It also helped to keep your mind off of how much you missed your boyfriend.
While you were at work half an hour from Beacon Hills, Derek was even farther from home, helping an old friend named Argent defeat whatever supernatural creature was plaguing the Bay Area. It was only six months ago that you had learned all the scary stories you heard growing up were true. Your town was more than just a little bizarre, and the moment you figured that out was the moment that almost ended your life.
You had just started working at the restaurant, and when you when to pick up a tray from the kitchen, one of the cooks happened to drop a searing hot pan of oil nearby. Your arm had been splashed, and while the burn hadn’t been that serious, it was enough for the manager to send you to the hospital.
“Can’t have you suing us later,” he had grumbled, rushing you out the front doors.
You had ended up stuck behind a curtain at Beacon Memorial, waiting in a bed you didn’t need for an hour, when suddenly a man with glowing white eyes burst through the room. He was making strange, animal-like noises and you noticed that he had a mouthful of sharp, jagged teeth.
The hospital must have been slow that day, because after several other patients had been checked out, you were the only one left in the room with the strange creature. That was until Derek Hale burst in, tackling him to the ground and fighting him off.
If anyone asked him about it, Derek would always say that it was you who had saved him. You didn’t really remember it that way, but you did admit that the way you slammed a metal IV pole over the thing’s head was pretty badass. Derek had simply been tossed onto the ground for a few seconds, but you had taken the chance to help him out, and that bravery was what spurred him to ask you out after.
Once you had gotten over your shock, it was no surprise that you said yes. He had basically stopped you from being eaten by a supernatural creature.
You missed him now, and hoped he was being safe fighting monsters. Meanwhile, the most dangerous thing you had to worry about was your bitter manager Stuart. The man was in his late twenties and already balding, and nothing seemed to be good enough for him. He was picky and rude, but you’d take him over a wendigo any day.
“Y/n!” He called as you headed into the kitchen to place your table’s order. “Phone call for you in the office.”
Your heart leap with hope. “Who is it?”
He rolled his eyes. “Who do you think? Make it quick, and tell that goddamn boyfriend of yours to stop bothering you at work. I don’t pay you to take phone calls all day.”
You gritted your teeth and forced a smile. “Sure, Stuart.”
You turned your back on him and headed into the office, picking up the phone and taking it off of hold. “Derek?”
“Hey.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “How’s work going?”
“Not too bad,” you told him, thinking. “Could be a lot worse. How’s the hunting?”
“I’d call it a success. I made it out with most of my body intact last night.”
You swallowed. “Are you okay?”
He laughed softly. “Yes, Y/n. I’m all healed by now.”
“You should still be careful,” you complained. “Derek, I need you home in one piece.”
“I will be. I promise I’ll grow back any limbs I lose.”
You sighed. “That’s not funny. I wish you were coming back sooner.”
“I’ll be home before you know it, baby.”
“I know. Look, I have to get back soon, but be careful, okay?”
“Of course. I don’t have you here to save me this time.”
You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “That’s not how it happened. I have to get back, okay?”
“I know,” he said sadly. “I love you, Y/n.”
“I love you too. You promise you’ll be careful?”
“I swear. Have a good shift, babe.”
“Thanks,” you whispered. “Bye.”
You hung up the phone and headed back out to the front of the restaurant, but before you could walk through the doors, Reese came through them.
“Hey, sorry. I got a phone call. Two at fifty-four, right?”
She shook her head. “Trina came back after one of the busboys said something to Stuart, but someone is sitting in your section.”
“Wait I thought Zach was next in the rotation,” you told her. “Did they just sit down?”
“Sort of. I told him Zach would be his server, but he wouldn’t really listen. He just kept asking for you, so I sat put him in your section. Should I not have done that?”
Reese frowned as she watched your entire body go stiff. “What does he look like?”
“Uh, he’s got dark hair and stubble. He looks like he’s in his thirties. Oh, and he has these really blue eyes. They’re kinda pretty, actually. Did I do something wrong?”
You took a deep breath and shook your head. “No. But this guy, if it’s the one I’m thinking of, he always comes in and asks for me. And everytime, he just tries to get really personal and asks me all these weird questions. Sometimes I don’t even know how he knows things about me. Stuart never listens to me because he’s never tried to touch me, but he’s creepy.”
Reese blinked, suddenly looking worried. “Should I tell someone?”
“There’s no use. Last time he complained to Stuart when JD tried to take the table for me.”
“Are you sure?” You sighed. “Yeah. Just seat Zach next okay?”
She bit her lip and nodded. You shot her a weak smile and headed outside. As soon as you pushed the door open, the customer turned his head and smiled at you from across the deck, as if he somehow knew you were coming despite his back being to the restaurant.
Your short heels clicked softly against the wooden floor, but you walked as slow as possible to his table. It was him, the man that came in about every two weeks just to be waited on by you.
He was tall, with light brown hair and icy blue eyes that always seemed to stare right through you. He looked to be in his late thirties, early forties, and he never came with anyone else.
He first showed up about four months ago, and in the beginning he was harmless. He made a few comments about your appearance, but it was never anything crude, and you had had customers say much worse to you. His questions weren’t anything too bad at first, but they quickly became way too personal for your liking, and it began to make you uncomfortable.
“Can I start you off with something to drink?” you asked weakly.
He tilted his head. “No smile for me today?”
“It’s been a long day,” you lied.
“Missing the boyfriend?” he inquired.
You froze in shock. You had never told him anything about Derek, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by your discomfort. He actually let out a soft laugh.
“Your new hostess said you were taking a phone call. I just assumed it would be someone special. After all, if it were me, I’d want to keep an eye on you. Wouldn’t want anyone else whisking you away.”
His blue eyes were bright and sharp, suggesting something you had no desire to understand. “If I’m remembering correctly, we had a conversation about me not wanting to share my personal life.”
The man held up his hands and smiled gracefully. “Right. I apologize. I was only making an observation. I’ll take a coffee, please.”
“I’ll be right back with that.”
“She’s new, isn’t she?”
You gritted your teeth and turned back to him. “Our hostess? Yes.”
“Most of your coworkers seem to be...reluctant to seat me with you. But not her.”
“Most of them prefer to be sat in order.”
“But I prefer you.”
You fought off an uncomfortable shiver. “Yes. I’ve noticed. I should go get your coffee.”
“Of course,” he said with a smile. “Look at me, keeping you from working. I’ll let you get back to it. I’ll be staying for awhile anyway.”
He picked up his menu and began to flip through, but as you turned away, he called out to you. “And Y/n?”
“Yes?”
He didn’t look up from the menu, but there was a small smirk on his face. “I think that’s my new favorite dress on you. It fits your body incredibly well.”
You ignored him and started to walk away, but his fingers suddenly snatched your wrist. You let out a small gasp, visibly shaken. You tried to yank your arm away, but his grip never faltered, and he just smiled politely up at you. “Sorry. I think I’m ready to order now.”
“O-okay.” You hated the way your voice faltered, and you bit the inside of your cheek as he dropped your wrist. You suddenly wished Derek had called later. He would have been the perfect excuse to get away from this guy.
While he didn’t know about it, such perfect timing might have spurred you to finally tell him. You had held off since the man first started worrying you, always convincing yourself that he had never done anything too unsettling or inappropriate. Your own manager didn’t take you seriously, always telling you that he was probably just a lonely man who found you attractive.
“That’s not fucking normal, man,” your coworker JD had commented to him one day. “The dude’s stalking her or something.”
“JD, do you want to keep your fucking job or not?” Stuart had asked. “The only reason we’re still in business is because of guys like him who keep coming in, and my expert managing skills. If he wants Y/n as his server, that’s who he’s getting.”
That was as much of a response as you were ever going to get from Stuart, so you had stopped complaining to him a long time ago. You knew Derek would never have the same response, but you were still skeptical. You weren’t even sure he could do anything about it. It wasn’t like he could be there while you were working.
That was a big reason why you had never told him. You didn’t feel like he could intervene, and you would figured it would only make him worry more than anything else.
Dealing with creeps was practically in the job description of being a waitress, and you just kept telling yourself that you had to deal with them until something better came along.
As you headed back into the restaurant, you couldn’t help but wish that something would hurry up. The day dragged on, and even after the man left, you couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling he had left you with. Honestly, you weren’t sure you could take much more of it, and you thought about it the entire drive home.
When you finally rode the elevator up to Derek’s loft, all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep the day off. You were beginning to feel a sense of relief, but as soon as you pulled open the door, you felt your stomach drop.
The upstairs light from the kitchen was shining down the steps, but the problem with that was that you hadn’t left anything on when you left that morning. Derek was still in San Francisco, so you knew it wasn’t him. The only other person with a key was Scott McCall, Derek’s protege and one of his only friends. Although you always told him he didn’t have to, he normally called and asked, and you had a feeling it wasn’t him.
You opened your mouth to call out, but then thought better of it. The man from the restaurant was still on your mind, and while you knew it wasn’t logical that he followed you home and somehow got into the loft, you couldn’t help but worry.
Nervously, you took a step forward, conscious of every small sound you made. Even your breath sounded loud. As you crept closer, you attempted to peer up the steps, looking for any shadows or movement as your heart slammed against your ribcage.
Was it possible that you had forgotten to turn off that light? Maybe you had, and the man from today was just freaking you out. But if  it was something worse, you thought, was someone waiting up there for you? What would you find if you walked up those steps?  You were just beginning to wonder when a pair of arms wound around you from behind.
“Boo,” a voice whispered, but it was drowned out by your shriek. You fought against the arms, desperate to shove them off. To your surprise they dropped instantly. You stumbled forward and whirled around, at the same time Derek reached for you again. “Woah, Y/n, it’s me!”
You froze, breathing heavily as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “Are you okay?”
You nodded, and leaned forward to bury your head in his shoulder. “Y/n? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” you whispered shakily. “You just scared me. I thought you were still in San Francisco.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he explained, his voice apologetic. “Guess I’m not very good at it.”
“No,” you breathed. “No, it was sweet that you wanted to. I just...I wasn’t expecting it.”
You reached up and ran your hands through your hair, shooting him a small smile. He was back, and everything was okay, and there was nothing for you to worry about. Not even the man from earlier.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m glad you’re back.”
He grinned. “Me too.”
“And you’re all in one piece too.”
“I told you I would be.” He kissed your forehead. “God, I missed you. Do you wanna come shower with me?”
You smiled. “Is that a serious question?”
He chuckled softly, and wound his arms around your waist. He yanked you close, and swept you up in one effortless move. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he pressed his lips to yours again, and you felt a wave of joy wash over you. He carried you up the steps and into the bathroom, and everything that had happened that day was completely and utterly forgotten. For now, it was just you and Derek, and nothing else mattered.
“See you tomorrow, Y/n!’
“Bye Reese,” you called, as you dumped your apron in a bin at the back of the kitchen. You waved goodbye to  her, and weaved around cooks and other servers carrying precariously balanced trays of food.
The hostess smiled at you as she finished writing all the reservations for the night on the kitchen board, and you grinned back. Although you weren’t just happy to be getting off early. Derek had planned a romantic night for you two a couple days after he got back, and you had found someone to cover the last half of your shift that day.
       You headed out into the parking lot, smiling as you went  walked to your car, keys in hand. Tonight was going to be amazing, just you and Derek, and after the few stressful weeks you had had, that was what you needed.
Your job seemed to be incredibly mixed when it came to the experience. Some of your best and worst moments had been spent at the restaurant, but even when work made you want to pull your hair out, coming home to Derek was enough to help you decompress.
His last text was running through your head as you headed to your car, making your smile even brighter. Meet me in the preserve at 8.
You could practically feel the stress melting off your shoulders, but maybe you were a little too distracted, because you nearly collided with a figure coming out from behind a blue SUV. A gasp flew past your lips as two firm hands caught you by the shoulders, and your stomach dropped violently as you looked up.
“Y/n.”
The color drained from your face as the man from the other week grabbed you. Words seemed to escape you as you thought of some response, anything to get him to stop touching you, but your mind was blank.
His expression was neutral, but his icy blue eyes were sharp and suspicious. “Are you leaving?”
Finally, you managed to brush away his arms, but you still couldn’t think of anything to say.
“I came in to see you,” he continued. “I thought you always worked a double on Sundays.”
You fought to keep a choking sound from leaving your throat. How did he know your schedule?
“I-I’m just going to my car,” you managed to get out.
“I can walk you,” he offered, although the way he said it didn’t seem like he intended to give you much of a choice.
“No,” you said firmly, regaining some composure. “I’m fine. If you go inside, I’ll be in there in a second.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “I hope you’re not trying to trick me. That wouldn’t be very nice, considering I do come here for you, and I always tip you well.”
You felt the urge to wretch at how slimy his words were. As if you owed him anything just for that. “I’ll be back.”
He eyed you carefully, but finally relented. “I’ll see you inside then.”
You gave him a shaky nod, and continued to walk to your car, even though you were aching to burst into a run. Once you got to it, you calmly opened the door, locked the doors. Then you peeled out of there.
As you exited the parking lot, you dared to look back in your rearview mirror, and when you did, you could see the guy standing in the parking lot, staring at your taillights.
Your heart was racing, but you forced yourself to stay calm. Everything would be fine and once you saw Derek, you would tell him everything.
There had been no one in that parking lot, and while the sun was still up, he could have done anything to you. You doubt you could have overpowered him, let alone outrun him. For a middle-aged man, he seemed to be incredibly fit.
You turned on the stereo as you drove, cranking the station to the most calming thing you could find. As talk radio droned on and the miles to Beacon Hills Preserve lessened, the tightness in your chest began to ease. You began to think how good it would feel to be in Derek’s arms, and to finally be honest about what was freaking you out so much.
Your tires crunched on the gravel of the parking lot as you pulled in, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you spotted Derek’s Toyota. You parked next to him and hopped out, switching out your flats for comfortable hiking boots. You shrugged on your jacket, then headed toward the path leading to Lookout Point.
Derek had taken you here about three times, and you always stopped there when you went for hikes in the preserve. You knew right where he’d be, and you couldn’t wait to make it there.
You pulled your flashlight out of your pocket, ready to head out, but a flash of light from behind you caused you to pause. Once you glanced over your shoulder, you saw a sickeningly familiar dark SUV, shining its headlights directly toward you.
However unlikely it was that the man from the restaurant had followed you there, your stomach lurched in response. You heard the door open, but you didn’t stick around to see if you were right.
Your boots slammed on the gravel path as you ran, and soon the rocks under your feet gave way to dirt. Heavy breaths flew out of you as your flashlight bounced along the trees in front of you, and you quickly glanced over your shoulder.
It didn’t look like anyone was following you, and you couldn’t really hear footfalls, but you doubted you could hear much of anything over the sound of your own heart slamming against your ribs.
You shined the flashlight back up ahead, praying you were getting closer to the preserve, just as you heard a branch snap behind you. Panicked, you looked behind, searching for a threat, but there was nothing.
When you turned back though, you slammed right into a warm body, and just like before, hands came up to grip your shoulders.
You screamed and struggled, but the hands were strong, impossibly so.
The light from your flashlight cast an eerie glow on your attacker’s face, and much to your dismay, you had been right. The man was right there, staring down at you, and smiling politely.
“You lied to me.”
Your heart stuttered in your chest, and you could feel terrified tears pooling in your eyes.
“All I wanted was to see you, Y/n.”
Your trembling fingers were still gripping the flashlight, and it was only then that you realized you still had some fight left. This man had not only made you uncomfortable for months, but now he was terrorizing you. No matter how much you wished Derek was there to save you, it was time to be your own hero for once.
“I just don’t understand,” the man continued. “I just wanted to show you what you could-”
Without waiting for him to finish, you slammed the metal flashlight down on his head. He faltered, causing him to release you for a second, and you took off down the trail.
Once his fingers snagged in the back of your jacket, you knew your victory was short-lived. You screamed again as he dragged you to the ground, scrambling for any hold as you were pulled farther and farther from your dropped flashlight.
You kicked out when he pulled you back, and your boot connected with his jaw. A low growl came from his throat, and you glanced back in terror. His eyes were suddenly glowing a bright blue, causing panic to grip you even tighter. He was a werewolf just like Derek.
“Stop fighting me,” he snarled in your ear, gripping your hair and yanking your head back. He growled low in your ear and clapped his hand over your mouth when you screamed once more.
A whimper slipped from your lips as you felt sharp claws digging into your cheek. “Shhhh.”
He whispered in your ear, causing you to let out a disgusted shiver. You squirmed in his arms. “Derek made a good choice. Beautiful and  a fighter. He seems to have a type.”
It took a few seconds for his words to register, but once they did, you froze. He chuckled low in your ear at your reaction. “I bet he didn’t tell you anything about me. He probably thought he was doing what was best for you. His mistake.”
You were shaking with fear, but confusion had still wormed its way into your head. He knew Derek?
Another growl ripped through the night air, and you only shook harder. Then suddenly, the man’s arms were ripped off of you, leaving you with only the stinging scratches from his claws. You fell forward, palms hitting the forest floor.
You darted forward, yanking your flashlight from the dirt and shining it toward the snarling figures rolling around on the ground.
“Derek,” you whispered.
He was on top of the man, pinning him down after a short struggle. “Peter!”
His voice was low and dark, and he looked like he was actually going to kill him. The look on his face was murderous. There was something in his eyes that you had never seen before, not even that night in the hospital when he saved you from the wendigo.
“She had no idea,” The man-Peter-spat. “She had no idea you had any family.”
Family?
“How did you get out of Eichen House?” Derek snarled. “How?’
“It was too easy!” Peter cried. “And when I did, I found out that you were living happily ever after, playing house with Scott and your lovely little girlfriend.”
“I’m going to rip your throat out.”
“You already did,” Peter said with a bloody grin. “Didn’t seem to stick.”
With a low growl, Derek slammed his fist into Peter’s jaw, over and over again, and you closed your eyes. Your flashlight dropped from your trembling hands, and you didn’t pick it up. You listened as the struggle stopped, and everything was still. You were dimly aware of Derek talking softly into his phone, but you were too dazed to care.
“Y/n?” Derek’s soft voice asked.
You looked up carefully, but your eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness of the preserve. You felt his fingers on your cheek, soft and gentle, and that was when you burst into tears.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Derek whispered as you collapsed into his chest. “It’s okay, you’re safe. He’s out cold.”
He ran a hand down your hair, smoothing it out and carefully picking out the sticks and dead leaves that had stuck there during the struggle.
“He was watching me,” you whispered into his chest.
“What?”
“He came to the restaurant. He was following me and he was watching me, and this whole time he was your family?”
“My uncle,” he informed you. “But it’s complicated. He’s not...you said he was watching you?”
“He wouldn’t let anyone else seat him,” you explained shakily. “For months he came in, and I just thought he was some creep.”
“Fuck,” Derek breathed, squeezing you tighter. “But you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know what to say,” you told him, breaking down into a sob. “No one else listened.”
You picked your head up, pulling your face away from his tear-stained shirt. Peeking over, you saw that Peter was still on the ground, like Derek had said, out cold.
Derek reached up, placing a hand on your cheek and turning your face back toward his. “Scott’s going to be here soon to take him back to Eichen House.”
“Eichen House? The mental hospital?”
He was quiet for a moment as he nodded. “This was why you were so jumpy wasn’t it? He was scaring you.”
You nodded. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, placing both hands on your cheeks before kissing you on the forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I just want you to know that I’m here, okay? I’m right here and I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”
You nodded and buried your face in his shoulder once more. Your cheek was still bleeding from Peter’s claws, but Derek didn’t seem to care that it was staining his shirt. He held you close until you were ready to pull away.
“We can go home as soon as Scott gets here,” Derek promised.
You sighed and rested your head back onto his shoulder. “And I was so excited for tonight.”
“Do you not want to go home?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’re hurt.”
You thought for a moment. “Not that badly. I just want my night with you.”
Derek’s lips turned up. “We can stay then. As soon as Scott takes Peter, we can head up to Lookout Point.”
You smiled against his skin. “You’re amazing.”
“I think you’re pretty amazing too. After all, you did save my life.”
You sighed and shook your head at the inside joke. “Well, now you’ve officially saved mine.”
He pressed his lips to your forehead and smiled wider. Sitting there in the dark, with Peter’s unconscious body behind you and the bloody scratches on your cheek, the situation might have seemed horrible and terrifying. But you could also hear the sound of Scott’s motorbike approaching in the distance, and of crickets chirping softly from the grasp.
Derek was right next to you, wrapping you up and making sure you were safe and sound. After all the chaos, everything suddenly seemed still and peaceful, just for the two of you. You leaned back into his arms and gazed up at the stars peeking through the trees, thinking you didn’t mind staying a little bit longer.
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