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gravelyhumerus · 4 years

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Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 4

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Emily’s alarm wakes JJ up.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Jennifer Jareau awoke in her bed to the sound of her alarm. She groaned as her body refused to cooperate, with the fog of sleep clouding her brain and the desire to just roll over and sleep in sounding very appealing.

It was such a late night last night with Emily and JJ had already set her alarm to nine thirty, giving her less time in the morning to get to her eleven am class than she would normally like. JJ liked eating breakfast, and with being an athlete, her body needed as much fuel as she could get.

She rolled over, slamming her hand onto her phone, attempting to turn off the beeping. It wasn’t working, forcing JJ to open her eyes against the sunlight. She grabbed her phone, unplugged it, and stared at the blank screen before realizing that it was only eight and her alarm wasn’t set for another hour.

JJ frowned, realizing that what she was hearing wasn’t her alarm, nor was it Penelope Garcia’s—her roommate who had a cheery jingle as an alarm—either. It must be coming from another room.

She looked over to the other side of the room where Penelope was sleeping peacefully, on her side with her chest slowing rising and falling. Lucky, JJ thought. Penelope, unlike JJ, hadn’t been rudely awoken by someone else’s alarm.

JJ pulled her pillow over her head, rolled over, and tried to fall back asleep. She was desperate to catch that extra hour of sleep.

She sighed, tried to relax and fall back into her slumber, but the blaring sound continued, and continued, without fail. Whoever was responsible for that god-awful noise apparently was not waking up.

JJ sat up, tossing her pillow aside. Quietly, despite her frustration, she threw back her comforter and blanket, slipped into her fuzzy slippers and walked to their door, peering into the hall.

She was wearing her pink pj bottoms and a grey cotton t-shirt from a soccer camp she went to in high school, and the cool air after the warmth of her bed made her shiver. Their dorm was either too hot, or too cold most days, never really reaching a comfortable living temperature.

Looking left and right, JJ tried to narrow down the sound of the incessant alarm. She held her breath for a moment, listening hard.

The beeping was coming from straight ahead. She looked at the door, staring it down, begging the other girl to simply wake up, turn off her alarm, and continue with her day.

That did not happen.

JJ slipped back into her room and grabbed her lanyard, to avoid getting locked out of her room with the annoying automatically locking doors.

She closed her own door quietly, as much as she was mad at Garcia for managing to sleep through the noise, she didn’t really want to bother her. JJ started with knocking lightly on the other girls door, rapping on the wooden door right next to the construction paper sea turtle that their RA had written Emily’s name tag on.

“Emily,” JJ said quietly, “Your alarm is going off.”

JJ checked her watch. Eight ten. Emily’s midterm for Clinical Psychology was at eight-thirty. She knocked louder.

No response.

She must be a very heavy sleeper.

JJ knocked louder, scared she would wake up the whole floor, but more worried about Emily’s education than disturbing them. Their walls were thin, but the fact that Emily could sleep through an alarm that could wake JJ up, across the hall, and sleep through JJ’s knocks, was borderline concerning.

After a few minutes of near-panicked knocking, she finally heard movement in the other room, with a muffled “Whaa-” coming from Emily.

She opened the door, rubbing her eyes and holding her phone.

“Your alarm was going off,” JJ said, sheepishly as she took in the taller girl staring at her in complete confusion. “And you have a midterm.”

Emily looked down to the phone in her hand, looking at the time and said, simply: “Shit,” before spinning back around.

“You have twenty minutes,” JJ pointed out, unhelpfully.

“Yes I very much do,” Emily replied, “And it’s in the psych building which is on the exact opposite side of campus. Dammit, the alarm must have been going off for a half hour. I have no idea how I slept through it.”

JJ, unsure at the protocol of what was happening, stood in the open doorway. She found herself somewhat overwhelmed at the sight of Emily. Instead of the t-shirt and pj pants that JJ had seen on her before, Emily was instead wearing a delicate, semi-transparent cotton camisole and silky looking shorts that were quite short and showed off most of Emily’s long legs. Her skin was pale, and even, without any freckles or scars marring the porcelain-like limbs. JJ, on the other hand, knew her tanned skin revealed the scars from the endless cuts and scrapes she’d acquired being a sporty child.

What caught her eye most was something poking through the fabric of the thin camisole. JJ blushed as she realized that Emily had her nipples pierced.

Emily’s ensemble showed off much more of Emily’s body than JJ had ever seen before, but it wasn’t the body that shocked her (Jennifer Jareau played sports her whole life, she wasn’t shy about nudity), what shocked her was the fact that she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away.

JJ had planned to wake up whoever was disturbing her with their alarm, then immediately go back to bed, but now she felt as if her feet were glued to the floor.

With her hands grasping her keys, clutching them tightly, JJ stared at her friend as Emily dug through her chest of drawers and stormed around the room in a frenzy.

She was not simply staring, JJ realized to her own personal confusion, she was ogling her. Emily’s typically perfectly straight black hair was wavy and messy, mussed by sleep and her bare face had a classic beauty that made something tighten in JJ’s chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Emily muttered, throwing a pair of sweat pants over her shorts, not really having any time to get dressed. “Thank you for waking me JJ.”

This roused JJ from her thoughts, forcing her to come to terms that she was checking her friend out. She felt her face warm in a blush, and stared at the floor so she would no longer be looking at Emily like that.

“We use the same alarm,” JJ said, dumbly. “I thought it was mine.”

She gulped, watching Emily yank a hoodie over her head, and smooth her hair down with her fingers. Emily yawned, letting out a cute noise that made JJ smile.

“Well,” Emily replies, smiling at her sweetly, “I would have fully slept through this midterm if it wasn’t for you. You saved my life. Merci.”

Emily grabbed her backpack which was hanging off the back of her chair, and slings it over her shoulder. From atop her dresser, Emily picked up a red apple, rubbing it off on her shirt in lieu of washing it.

“Thank you again,” Emily says, pulling her into a quick hug. JJ found herself engulfed in Emily’s warm arms, the smell of orchids and coffee, for a short, amazing moment, before Emily pulled back.

Emily shut her door, took a bite of her apple with a wink at JJ, then ran down the hall on her way to her class.

JJ stepped back, left behind standing in the centre of the hall, alone with her thoughts. She remained there for a moment, processing the mixed bag of emotions.

She turned back around, unlocked her door, then sat back onto her bed. It was still warm from her body, and beckoned for her to return to its warm embrace. JJ, on the other hand, was still reeling from another embrace, that of her friend and neighbour.

Her friend, she reminded herself. They were friends.

JJ stared into the distance, breathing deeply and trying to process her racing thoughts. Her break up was fresh in her mind. She was still reeling from her break up, was overtired, and had just spent the entire evening with Emily listening to her speak to her in the literal language of love, no wonder why her brain was all mixed up.

JJ shook her head and laid back down, staring at the ceiling. She put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes.

Instead of her normal anxious thoughts about her midterms, her upcoming game and the end of her almost two year long relationship, her brain flashed to Emily. How patient she was last night explaining all the possible conjugations of the verbs, how she told her funny stories about her childhood in France, how she tried to catch the M&Ms in her mouth, and missed every time.

Emily could speak French fluently, and it was probably one of the most attractive things that JJ had ever experienced. She rolled her r’s so perfectly, and spoke with a clarity that she struggled to find in her professor’s strange accent.

JJ rolled onto her side, tugging the blanket around her, lost in thought. Emily was so nice, JJ really liked her. She liked her as a friend, right? That’s what this was?

She thought about Emily, who bakes cookies in the middle of the night, who gets way too into beer pong and who smiles wide every time she saw JJ and held her hand tightly as they walked home last night.

Did JJ like Emily? Like-like her? She didn’t know. She doesn’t like girls. She hadn’t really liked that many people before. She dated Will for two years, two nice, normal, comfortable years where she didn’t have to think about these things, about crushes or feelings.

She was always a very focused child, focused on school and on soccer and on getting to college. It was Will who pursued her, who was the first to text, who invited her places and encouraged her to be present. JJ was always reacting to the boy's affection, every time.

Her mom had The Talk with her when she was thirteen, which was awkward and tense, but instead of the typical discussion about the birds and the bees, her mom talked about love and consent and JJ’s future partner . At the time, JJ thought her mom was being silly because JJ liked boys;, she had crushes on boys like all the other girls in her grade. She always would pick the nicest one, and select him as her crush when the other girls would ask. But now, looking back, maybe JJ’s mom saw something JJ hadn’t seen herself.

No. That couldn’t be.

Jennifer, she scolded herself, don’t go down the rabbit hole. You just went through a messy break up. You’re confused is all.

It was true, just yesterday JJ fought with Will and it ended in, well, an ending of their relationship. Over the phone. He told her that he needed more from her, from them, and JJ told him that she was giving all she had. That was not enough for him.

She hadn’t even had that much time to think about it, and him, let alone tell her friends and family that it had happened.

She had hung up the phone and immediately had to go to a class. Before she knew it she was in a study room with Emily Prentiss forgetting all about her break up.

Her mind flashed to the girl in her class who had come out in eighth grade, how after she had, the other girls had told JJ to make sure she had turned around so the girl wouldn’t look at her inappropriately. JJ had protested at the time, arguing that the girl probably didn’t even find them attractive anyway, but that hadn’t convinced the others. They had shunned the girl for the rest of the semester.

JJ remembered feeling a bit sick at the thought of being that other girl, who’s identity had been shamed by her peers. She went home that day and cried in sympathy. She didn’t know why she did.

After that she, on a private browser, looked up the acronym: LGBT. She discovered the term ally, and decided that that was what she was. She had cried because she supports people who are gay, or bi, or transgender, not because she likes girls. She was always told that she was a sensitive child, she cried because she was empathetic.

She had been confused about her feelings before, and had sorted them out. She could do that again easily. She didn’t like Emily that way. She was simply grateful for her company, for her friendship. She was a nice new friend, and JJ was just over excited as she got to know the girl across the hall.

JJ sighed. That made sense to her. She was a tangled mess of feelings and she needed some time to untangle them.

With that resolved, JJ tried to close her eyes and catch a few minutes of sleep but before she even closed her eyes, her alarm woke her up. Her real one.

She groaned.

To her right, Penelope woke up to the sound, yawning and rolling over at the sound.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Penelope murmured with a sleepy smile. “Late night last night?”

Penelope was probably her best friend at university, and her roommate. They were randomly placed together last year and had immediately become best friends. She was studying computer science, which was surprising because from what JJ could tell, Penelope could hack the FBI if she felt like it. She wasn't sure what else there was to study. Her side of the room was decorated in an explosion of colour, with endless trinkets on all of the available surfaces, and her walls covered in a rainbow of art, photos and miscellaneous ticket stubs and various moments of her life.

“Yeah,” JJ replied, sitting up in her bed and resigning herself to being awake. “I have that French midterm today.”

“Then the game!” she interjected, “I know! Spence and I will be there waving the flag.”

JJ smiled, grateful for her roommates' endless support.

“We should do trivia again this week,” Penelope says, “Reid is basically an encyclopedia and I think if we bring him we’ll win hands-down.”

JJ hummed in response, not really paying attention.

“I mean,” Penelope continued, “It’s probably unfair to drag a boy with an eidetic memory to a trivia game but I think it’ll be worth it.”

JJ was focusing on getting dressed, but tried to give her roommate enough reassuring nods to make sure she was active listening. She had to dress for her exam, then for her game so she chose track pants and her school windbreaker.

“Jayje, where’s your head at?” Penelope said and JJ frowned, she could read her like a book and could tell something was wrong. “You’re never this quiet. Is it about Will? We never really got to talk about what happened.”

JJ didn’t have the time to explain her tangled web of emotions.

“I’m fine Pen,” JJ assured her, “Just tired and worried about this midterm.”

“Okay,” she said, still looking worried, “You know I’m here.”

“I know.”

“Go get ‘em tiger!” Penelope grinned at her, “Just remember: voulez-vous coucher avec moi? That’s all you’ll need to know!”

JJ cracked a smile and wished Penelope a good morning, grabbed her bag before leaving. She waved goodbye and headed out into the morning, trying to shake her thoughts of Emily Prentiss away.

She had enough time to grab coffee and breakfast from the cafe before heading to her class a few minutes early so that she could look over her notes.

Forgetting Emily was hard when she was taking her French midterm, as the conjunction was coming to her, pronounced in Emily’s voice and explained in her clear, knowledgeable voice.

JJ sped through the midterm, a strange feeling tugging at her stomach as her focus was pulled two ways. One part of her, the one focused on the test, pictured Emily in front of her, her bangs getting in her face, her eyeliner drawn over her lid thickly coming to a sharp point on either side of her eyes, imagining her lips as she mouthed the words out to her. The other part of JJ, terrified of these thoughts and feelings, pushed her out of her mind, trying to compartmentalize the knowledge from the person.

Then her brain was filled with Will: of his kind smile, of how he hugged her tight and kissed her softly. Her brain desperately wanted to hang onto some sort of normal feeling of loss at the end of her relationship, but the majority of her feelings were unsatisfying and confusing.

The verb endings blurred together, and as she looked over her work before submitting, she found herself making stupid mistakes. JJ was in the middle of erasing an answer when her Professor called out to announce that time was up.

JJ walked out of the midterm frustrated. She was sure she did fine on it but was mad at herself for being distracted by her own personal issues.

She cursed Will for breaking up with her in midterm season, because she couldn’t focus on anything. She knew she was being distant, she knew it was her fault they were over, but the timing was overwhelming. Her status quo was crumbling and she was not quite sure how to keep the pieces together.

It’s over Jennifer, she said to herself, you finished your midterm. Time to focus on soccer and you’ll feel better.

That afternoon, JJ played an aggressive game, forcing her feelings out in her gameplay, running faster, tackling harder and hogging the ball more than she typically would.

She fought hard for the ball, barrelling towards the net, and setting up a perfect goal for her teammate. Who missed. It took JJ everything to not yell at her teammate, because she did not want to be red carded at a home game.

Next time she was on, instead of passing, she made sure she set herself up for a goal, charging past her opponents. She kicked. She scored. The roar of the crowd, the feeling of her team jumping upon her felt great.

In the stands, Penelope Garcia and Spencer Reid jumped high, cheering for their friend.

The adrenaline of the game wiped away the feelings of the day and JJ felt better. She felt normal. She could deal.

JJ could be happily single. She didn’t need Will and she certainly didn’t need to be distracted by anything right now anyways. She still had three midterms to go, then an away game next weekend.

After that, JJ could worry about her feelings. Until then, she had more important things to do.

In the locker room, JJ dried off, still buzzing with the win.

“Hey Jennifer,” a voice asked, coming up behind her. It was Kennedy. “Are you ok?”

Kennedy was a nice girl, in third year, who played defence. She was probably JJ’s closest friend on the team but outside of games, practise, and the occasional mandatory team social, JJ and she didn’t really talk.

“I’m fine,” JJ replied, stuffing her uniform into her locker. “Why do you ask?”

“You played a hard game,” Kennedy says, “I was impressed. You brought the heat.”

“So what’s the problem?” JJ says, hearing the terseness in her voice.

“Woah,” she says, stepping back and raising her hands in surrender, “Is something wrong? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I’m fine,” JJ says, slamming her locker harder than she meant to.

She walked out of the locker room, feeling slightly embarrassed at her outburst. It had started to rain again, the cold, sharp droplets hitting her face and soaking her hoodie. Making a mental note to apologize to Kennedy later, JJ walked straight home to her dorm with tears stinging at her eyes.

As soon as her door closed, JJ jumped onto her bed, laying with her pillow on her head to block out the afternoon sun, as tears leaked out of the sides of her eyes. Letting go, JJ cried. She cried for the end of her relationship, for the fact that it was her fault for it ending, for the fact that she didn’t feel sad about the end of her relationship and because she didn’t know what to think about Emily.

---

That week, everywhere she turned, Emily Prentiss was there.

For a girl that she never seemed to run into at the beginning of the semester, Emily seemed to make up for that with this week.

First thing the next morning, JJ walked into the bathroom with bleary eyes. She hadn’t slept well and had trudged through her morning routine. As she put some toothpaste onto her toothbrush, the door swung open and Emily wandered in, with her own toiletries in hand, wearing only a robe. JJ found herself brushing her teeth harder, not making eye contact and focusing on her own reflection in the mirror. JJ stared herself down, not allowing her eyes to stray or herself to think about the naked Emily Prentiss behind the curtain. JJ didn’t want to see her. JJ was straight, and that would be silly. She did not want to think about that girls god damned nipple piercings, or the fact that they made her blush to think about.

On Tuesday night, JJ looked out of her window into the courtyard, only to see Emily Prentiss, smoking a cigarette near the streetlamp. JJ closed her curtains. She had to study for her midterms.

Coming home from class on Wednesday, Emily had her door propped open as she read a book, with some music playing off her record player. JJ pretended she was in a rush to get somewhere, grabbing a random book out of her room before leaving for the library. She realized after that she needed a different book for her essay, but it was too late after she had rushed down the hall to go back.

Leaving her Media Studies midterm on Thursday, she passed Emily in the hall on her way back from practise. Emily touched her arm as they crossed paths and asked her, in her sweet voice, if JJ needed any more help on her French homework. JJ hurriedly said that she didn’t, and that she would text her if she did. Pointing out that JJ didn’t have Emily’s number, she then insisted that JJ add her as a contact. She did not text Emily.

That weekend, JJ relished how an away game took her off campus, and away from her issues. All JJ had to focus on was soccer.

Except, news had finally gotten to her mother about Will. JJ spent most of the weekend fending off phone calls and from her concerned mother, who wanted to be there for her. JJ felt incredibly guilty avoiding her calls, because her mom had loved Will.

As soon as JJ was back in her room, she was forced to finally return her mom's call, as she had run out of excuses. It was a long coversation. After hanging up, JJ laid on her bed, exhausted by her mother's distress. It felt like her mom was going to miss Will more than she would. JJ had assured her that she was fine, that she would call again soon, and, yes, she would like a care package, because that would mean she’d get a box of snacks, including Cheetos, which she was desperately craving.

After a few minutes of laying on her bed, with her packed bags still on the floor next to her, and still wearing her school branded windbreaker, there was a knock on her door.

She ignored it. She was sick of people being worried about her. Sick of everyone asking her if she was ok.

The person knocked again, more insistently.

JJ rolled onto her side, looking at her wall. There was her ex-boyfriend, on the wall in her once treasured prom photo, looking at her. She tore the photo down.

Her eyes wandered up to her other photos taped to the wall: her and her sister at Christmas when she was eight. JJ was holding up her new shadow box containing a blue butterfly (morpho menelaus) and standing next to her was her sister Rosaline, grinning wide and hugging her tight.

She wanted to ask Ros what was going on with her. Why she felt so untethered. Why she felt relieved that her boyfriend broke up with her. Why she simultaneously wanted to run towards and away from Emily Prentiss.

But, she could not ask her any of these questions. She tugged at her sister’s necklace, which was around her neck, resting over her heart, as always. Hoping for some kind of direction.

There was another knock on her door.

JJ opened it, finding the meek face of Spencer Reid on the other side. He waved awkwardly, and did not seem to notice her disheveled state.

“Garcia said that we could eat without her,” he said, “She’s in a lab this evening and is ordering pizza.”

Dinner. The trio always ate together when JJ was in town.

“I’m starving,” JJ admitted, realizing that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and her stomach flipped in protest.

JJ opened the door for him and turned back to the mirror. Reid sat down on the edge of Penelope’s bed. Of all the people on the other side of the door, he was probably the only one who wouldn't force her to talk about her feelings if she didn't want to.

“How was your game?” he asked politely.

JJ made a noncommittal noise.

“You know,” he continued without a pause, “Around two hundred countries or territories in the world play soccer, depending on what you consider a country, as the UN only recognizes two hundred and fifty one countries and territories while the US recognizes less than two hundred. You could play this game with more people than you could speak to in English.”

JJ ran a brush through her hair, hoping to make herself look presentable for the cafeteria. Spencer continued, barely coming up for air let alone wait for her response. Normally, JJ would fight to get a word in edgewise, but today, Spencer’s monologue was soothing her.

The rain had slowed to a slightly annoying drip, with dull clouds hanging low onto campus.

Together, they walked down the street to the cafeteria, which was in a dull concrete building near most of the residences. Spencer transitioned from discussing the impact of sports on global diplomacy, to talking about his day and chatting about how he has started hanging out with Derek Morgan more often.

JJ blinked at that, trying not to let her thoughts wander from Derek to Emily and her current turmoil.

Her minor reaction unheeded, Spencer discussed how Derek discovered that he could lift him, and had bench pressed him. Spencer, despite admitting that he was nervous around football players like Derek, given his rough time in high school, smiled as he told her this. She forced herself to be present, to engage with her friend, which was a welcome distraction.

Grabbing their trays, they both wandered around the buffet style cafeteria, peeking at the specials and deciding their preference. JJ steered past the vegetarian option, which was simply three pieces of tofu on some plain rice, and walked up to the burger bar. Comfort food was the plan. Reid, walking in her wake, joined her in her dinner choice. Soon, the two of them were eating burgers in companionable silence, both tackling mediocre, yet somewhat tasty meals. JJ sipped her water and felt Reid’s eyes on hers.

“You seem distracted,” he comments.

JJ looks down into her water.

“Penelope told me about Will,” he says, nervously, “I’m sorry?”

It comes out as a question.

“Look. I don’t really want to talk about it. I’m fine.”

I’m fine, she thought to herself, I’ve said that a lot today.

JJ softens, reminding herself that the boy only wants to help. She reaches her hand out and grabs his.

“Thank you for asking,” she smiles at him.

He perks up. She looked at him and while he was only three or so years younger, he looked so young. He was taller than her but still likely to keep growing, his gangly limbs awkward still in his adolescence. Still, he dressed like a professor, his outfits filled with cardigans and tweed.

They stood and made their way back to residence. JJ was starting to feel like herself again.

But, about thirty feet ahead of her was Emily Prentiss, fumbling with her keys as she tried to unlock the door to their building. It was really hard to push someone out of your mind when they lived across the hall.

Spencer noticed her hesitation.

“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” he asked.

JJ nodded, relieved at the offer. They turned to the right, and walked down the steps that lead to the lower part of campus, towards the nice graduate residences and the park. JJ stuck her hands deep into her jacket pockets, the fresh air making her feel a bit better.

“Will broke up with me,” she says to Spencer, not looking at him as she spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, following suit.

“I’m…. not,” she admitted.

She found that in the cool, fall air, the words flowed out and after she started, it didn’t seem to stop.

“I’m not and I should be. I should be crying about my breakup, eating chocolate and watching shitty romcoms with Penelope. I should be calling my mom and getting advice about my heartbreak. I should be getting drunk and trying to rebound. For some reason, I’m just… angry.”

She stood, raising her arms into the air.

“I feel embarrassed that he was the one who broke up with me when I didn’t even like him that much.”

She sighed. He looked at her with wide eyes, listening intently without any judgment, or reservations. He wasn’t pushing her to share, or judging her for her words.

“And I think I like someone else.”

JJ did not mean to say that. She looked back over at Spencer, who didn’t look particularly surprised.

“Emily?” he guessed.

JJ fell silent. She did. She liked Emily. She spent the week running from that, and it had been staring her in the face the whole time. She nodded.

“That’s great!” he replied with a smile. “I think you would be really good together.”

JJ was struck with this. She wasn’t expecting the homophobia she remembered from high school, but she was not expecting this.

“We would?” She found herself smiling as she said this.

“Yeah, I think she likes you too.”

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds tv #jemily #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #gravelyhumerus cm college au #my post #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #jemily fanfiction #WOOO chapter 4!!!!!#enjoy #tell me what u guys think #sorry its late i struggled #the fic is almost 20k now!!!

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shadowolf19 · 5 years

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[Steve/Tony Fic] Undisclosed Desires

Summary: Tony absolutely hates having to sit a mission out, especially when it’s because of some poor ass excuse like he just couldn’t finish the repairs on his suit on time. So what if the cooling is not tested? Or if one of the propellers goes off unexpectedly? There are worst things that can happen, right? Words: 2203 Fandom: Marvel Sub-fandom: Avengers Assemble Genre: Angst, Drama, Introspective Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Accidental Confessions, Friends To Lovers, Happy Endings, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Moments, One Shot, Slash Notes: Secret Santa for @suitofhumour, who requested Avengers Assemble plus some of the additional tags/warnings aforementioned. Hope you’re having a great holiday period and that you like it! :D Read under the cut or on my AO3 page if you prefer (link on my blog)

Tony absolutely hates having to sit a mission out, especially when it’s because of some poor ass excuse like he just couldn’t finish the repairs on his suit on time. So what if the cooling is not tested? Or if one of the propellers goes off unexpectedly? There are worst things that can happen, right? But unfortunately for him, that isn’t what the others thought as well, so after a very quick vote, they decided he would remain behind to give them directions and stuff. Which means, he’s bored out of his mind right now, because the team is on its way back after a fully successful operation, and he’s sitting in the control room watching as the jet (painfully) slowly makes its way back to the Tower, a blue dot crossing the map, currently situated over the Atlantic Ocean. He thinks of bringing a project up on one of the side screens, just to make time go by faster, but he knows he’d get distracted anyway, the team’s safety being on top of his concerns at any given time, but especially right now. So what he ends up doing is taking one of Cap’s baseballs to throw it up in the air absentmindedly, eyes promptly shifting on the central monitor between takes.

The jet is almost back to the Tower when it happens, and although there’s only the tiniest change on the screen (if you can call the fact that for just a couple of seconds the blue dot doesn’t move as such), Tony immediately picks up on it, because… well, it’s not that he has a sixth sense or had a premonition, but by now, worrying has become sort of his second nature. “Guys? What’s going on?” he asks in the comm, already jumping up on his feet, but no reply comes. Relax, it can just be a turbulence or something, he tells himself, didn’t the weatherman predicted snow this morning? He has no idea whether that’s actually true or a pathetic attempt of his mind to keep him from panicking. “Hey, can you hear me?” he repeats, eyes fixed on the screen, and in that moment the jet starts moving again, as if nothing had happened. Uh. Maybe it was just thunder or rain or whatever. He slumps back into the chair, his breathing slightly more regular now, as he fights the urge to call out yet again, because if everything is good and the team picks up on how stupidly worried he was over nothing, he would not hear the end of the tease for a damn long time. But then the radio starts spitting out Nat’s voice in brief and broken statics, and Tony understands that no, he wasn’t actually overreaching. “To-To----- Medic----- Help----- L-Long-----“ What is going on? Something involving getting medical assistance for sure, and well, the fragmented message is indication enough that the jet has been hit by more than just mere lightning. Or at least that’s what his brain is telling him. “Jarvis? Activate the medical bay, pronto. And call in Dr. Brent, there’s been some sort of emergency and I’m not taking risks,” he commands his A.I., and has been walking so fast that by the time his last word leaves his mouth he’s already on his way to the rooftop. Five minutes later, the jet lands tentatively on the tarmac, and it just takes Tony the briefest of glances to detect that whatever or whoever hit it did a significant damage to the vehicle. But he couldn’t care less about that right now, not when he doesn’t have a status on his teammates, so he runs towards the plane, not even waiting for it to come to a full stop, and starts shouting at it, as if his voice could be heard from within the vehicle. Just a few seconds later, the door opens and he sprints inside, but before he can climb more than a couple of steps Nat rushes out to stop him, placing a firm hand over his chest and searching for his eyes. “Tony, listen to me, we need to get Cap to medical attention as soon as possible. He’s the only one who got hit and… well, let’s just say he’s not in perfect conditions.” She keeps her glance steady but Tony has stopped listened as soon as his ears heard that Steve got hurt. Of course, Tony would feel bad if it had happened to anyone, but Cap? Although he would never admit it out loud, Cap holds a special place in his heart, always has. Don’t they say you should never meet your heroes? Yeah, Tony guesses that’s part of the reason why. You inevitably get attached beyond your wildest expectations, and especially in this line of work, that comes with a very dangerous price. Tony makes a movement to skirt around Nat, but she must have been expecting it because she stops him right away, and before he can think of another way to circle around her, the end of the jet opens up and he catches sight of a stretcher being rushed towards the entrance. “Steve!” he yells at the top of his lungs, turning in the opposite direction to make his way back down, but once again Nat anticipates his move and delivers a precise, small blow to the back of his neck, and a second later Tony collapses into her arms.

It takes about an hour for him to come back to his senses, and when he does, his body jerks up almost immediately, wanting to resume whatever it was doing when it got unplugged. He blinks the rest of the dizziness away, and comes to a sitting position in what he now recognizes to be his room. He jolts his legs off the bed and stands up, steadying himself against the wall as the predictable lightness in his head overpowers his will, but after a few moments he manages to move his feet without hesitation. Damn, Nat, why did you have to do that for?, he wonders to himself as he makes his way out of his room and into the corridor, and in his mind there’s not a doubt about where he’s headed. A couple of minutes later, he’s entering the sick bay, eyes immediately spotting Steve lying unconscious on the first bed he comes across. He swallows some of his nervousness down and takes the next few steps that separate him from the other, kneeling down next to the bed for lack of chairs in the nearby and throwing a quick glance at the IV next to him. “Steve?” he calls, although his brain already knows that the other is asleep, or worse. Still, he can’t help himself. “See, this is what happens when you guys shut me out…” he offers, shaking his head as looking at Steve, seemingly peaceful in his stillness. This is stupid, why am I talking to him when it’s obvious that he can’t hear me?, he ponders, but that’s a question that won’t get an answer. He lifts a hand up, moves some of the blond hair out of Steve’s forehead, sighing quietly as doing so, because his skin is cold and sweaty and Tony knows it’s not a good sign. He stays there, still and mute, and doesn’t even know how much time passes before he starts rambling, more to himself than to Steve really, because at this point he’s very much sure the other is passed out. Nobody awake would be able to not even flinch a muscle. “God, Steve, what have you done? Why were you the only one hurt? I bet you pulled some stupid self-sacrificing crap because you thought you’d be fine. What the hell were you thinking, uh? That’s why we have the Hulk on the team! I mean, no offense to Bruce, but the big guy can take an awful lot of hits, I can assure you. But you? You’re like me, and Nat, and Clint, and Sam, you’re only human, even with the serum, because guess what?, that doesn’t make you invincible or anything, it just gives you extra strength and stamina, but if you get hit badly… well, this is what happens, I suppose.” He stops at this point, shakes his head to himself, pinches the bridge of his nose as trying to focus his words to what he actually wants to say rather than a confused mumble. Not that he fully knows what that is anyway. But he feels he at least has to try. “Anyway, I believe I owe you an apology. Now, if you were awake you’d stop me right this second and say something like, ‘Forget about it, Tony, it’s water under the bridge’, and I’d jump straight at that because we both know how awkward we get whenever we try to have a conversation about feelings… But seeing you can’t talk right now, I guess this is my chance to finally tell you something I’ve been meaning to for quite a while, but never… um, got around to actually do it.” Yeah, he knows what he wants – needs – to say now, and this time nothing or nobody will stop him from doing it. He’s wasted too much time worrying about it whereas he should have just spitted it out when he still had the chance, when Steve wasn’t… No, he mentally corrects himself, this is not over, he’s gonna wake up and we’ll talk about it even if it’ll be awkward at first, but then… “See, the thing is, I think I like you, and not in a… friends way, if you get what I mean,” and he gives him a smile, as if the other could actually see it, “You know what?, scrap that, because that’s just part of it. I think I’m actually in love with you, and I’ve been for quite some time now. I don’t… I don’t know whether you like me or not, in that way I mean, because I know for a fact you do like me as a friend… god, why is this so hard to say out loud even when I’m clueless whether you can actually hear me right now or not…” he wonders, shaking his head to himself and leaning back to sit on his heels, gaze falling off Steve to find the floor as he crosses his arms over his knees and lowers his forehead against them. “Jesus, Tony, I didn’t know… just how dramatic you can be sometimes…” a feeble voice says all of a sudden, and for the first few seconds he’s one hundred percent sure that he has imagined it. He must have, right? He blinks some wetness off his eyes before throwing a tentative glance upwards, and sure enough, Steve is attempting a smile in his direction. “S-Steve?” he mumbles, a tight knot in his throat that he didn’t know he had. He uncrosses his arms to stand up again, and leans forwards towards the other man, hands desperately seeking one of his. “Oh my god, you’re awake…” “Well, yes, I’d say so, since I’m talking to you…” comes the reply, as he moves his right hand out of the sheet so that Tony can grab it. “I thought… I thought you were in a coma or something, I…” he stops halfway, realizing just now how he had let his emotions take control of his brain. Nobody had ever told him exactly how serious Steve’s injuries were, and he didn’t stop to ask about it to anyone on his way here. The only thing he knew, matter of fact, was that the other had been hit somehow, and that had come from Nat, who might as well be the best secret agent in the world, but hardly a doctor or even a nurse. “As I said, dramatic…” Steve giggles softly, throwing a sweet glance over to him and sighing quietly as their eyes finally meet. Now realizing that this mistake has come into being, in fact, because he has let his imagination (or fears) running wild, Tony shakes his head to himself and lets out a nervous chuckle, because he knows that he has to own what he just confessed moments earlier. “Listen, uh… About what I just said, I honestly thought—“ But before he can go there, Steve squeezes his hand tight and overlaps with his voice: “It doesn’t matter, because I feel the same way, and have been for quite a while now too. I can tell that you meant it, so I won’t allow you to take it back. I just have a question.” Tony wasn’t expecting anything like this, and is so flabbergasted that he seems to have forgotten how to form a logical sentence in his brain, so all he does is nodding at Steve’s request, blabbering along: “Y-Yes, sure, what is it?” “Would you go on a date with me?” Steve lets out all in a single breath, keeping his gaze on the other even if he’s awkward and shy as hell. And Tony smiles first, but then lets out a heartily laugh, rubbing some more unexpected tears out of his face: “Gosh, yes, yes I would.”

#SteveTony #Stony Fic #stevetonysecretsanta #Stony #Steve Rogers #Tony Stark

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abutterflyobsession · 7 years

Text

Doctor Who AU: Part 17

prelude/one/two/three/four/five/six/seven/eight/nine/ten/eleven/twelve/thirteen/fourteen/fifteen/sixteen/ao3

“Stop this now, Roland!”

“Darlin', you've got the button. The program is set to run all by its lonesome and the only way to shut it off is that little button in your hand. I'm completely locked out. Couldn't do a thing even if I tried. This is entirely your call.”

Roland flourished his hand and gave a little bow to the Doctor.

He straightened up, looking slightly puzzled.

“Buttercup, not that my plans didn't anticipate you finding me but . . . how did you get here?”

“She was covered in dust from the wall she atomized,” Dawn appeared in Bog's line of sight, her glasses in place and hands in her pockets, “Turns out that your handy little nanotech interior automatically tries to find its way home and reassemble itself. An advanced trail of bread crumbs leading us back to you. Also, you still have your shields down from when I deactivated them last time.”

“Oh,” Roland looked disappointed, “I was expecting a little more effort on my sweetheart's part. It's not much of a rivalry if her little sister elbows in.”

“Don't mind me,” Dawn shrugged her shoulders, “I'm just the designated damsel in distress. In your head, anyway.”

“This is an eight-wheeler worth of third wheels,” Roland sighed.

“How are you doing, Boggy?” Dawn held his chin and tipped up his head so she could shine a small light in his eyes, “Responses are still good. You look all dried out, though. Drink plenty of water and, uh, hang in there.”

Bog was just grateful it wasn't a plant pun.

He wasn’t grateful for much else. He was on the edge of panicking because none of what was going on made any sense, he was in a great deal of pain, and he was being used to somehow take over the world. Or was it destroy the world? Roland had been a little vague about the specifics.

Bog was trying his best not to panic because if he did he was sure someone would point out the text on his shirt read ‘Don’t Panic’, and he wasn’t sure if he could take that.

Roland coughed politely to regain their attention and once all eyes were on him he smiled and continued his performance, “Now, now, enough of this lallygagging. You're on a deadline, remember?”

With a wave of his hands the walls shimmered, the blank white stretches giving way to a view of the park that the Doctor's TARDIS had been parked in earlier. The crumbled section of wall where the Doctor had been imprisoned flickered and buzzed, an disordered patch in the otherwise flawless projection of the outdoors.

Roland paused and shook his head regretfully at the crumbled wall before continuing.

“Lovely, wholesome little park,” he gestured to a small grouping of trees, “a space conveniently free of pavement and buildings. Nothing but a nice smooth piece of grass and trees and a sweet little pond for the ducks.”

Roland swung around to face his audience and flashed the smile of a man in an informical about to tell you that if you call now you would receive double the product and a free set of measuring spoons.

“All in all, the ideal place to start growing a plant army in the middle of a city!”

Right on cue a sprouting plant pushed its way through the grass, it's massive size scaring off a dog that had been inspecting the shifting ground. More sprouts followed, the people walking through the park startled but laughing, coming up closer to see if the plants were real, snapping pictures with their phones.

“Humans,” the Doctor muttered, dragging a hand down her face, “I hope the increased traffic on their twitter feed is worth possible death.”

“Don't be so hard on them,” Dawn said, looking up from her inspection of the cables trailing on the floor, “they don't—are they putting their baby right next to it to take pictures?”

The Doctor nodded dully.

“How have they survived as a species?” Dawn groaned.

“A mystery,” Roland said.

“Don't agree with me,” Dawn ordered, “It makes me want to shower.”

“As fun as this all is,” Roland said, his back to the rapidly growing plants, “you've go a schedule to keep to. About five minutes and we'll have a nice amount of wooden soldiers to march off into the streets, armed with an array of natural toxins and pointy sticks for general stabbing. Of course, they could always be stopped with large amounts of weedkiller, or setting everything on fire, but that would cause just as much damage as letting them rampage. Really, the only option is--”

Roland was abruptly cut off as he dropped to the floor in an undignified heap.

There was a small round patch stuck on the back of his neck and Sunny was standing over him looking apprehensive.

“I didn't kill him, did I?”

The Doctor rushed over, turned Roland face up and felt for a pulse in his neck.

“He's fine. How long have you been here? What did you--?”

“I've been here the whole time,” Sunny said in the resigned way of someone who was used to being constantly overlooked, “I found a box when Dawn sent me looking for stuff to track Roland. Some sort of knockout things. I read the label and was going to ask, but I never got a chance and then when he wouldn't shut up I kind of thought we'd all be happier if he took a nap.”

The Doctor examined the box, nodded, pulled out a second patch and stuck it in the middle of Roland's forehead, “Good. Dawn, you may keep Sunny.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sunny and Dawn said in disgusted unison.

“You're welcome, now find me something to tie him up with.”

“There are zip ties in my jacket pocket,” Bog tilted his head to where his leather jacket had been dropped to the floor after Roland removed it so he could take blood samples from Bog's arm.

“Why do you carry around zip ties?” the Doctor asked, pulling the items in question out of the jacket pocket.

“I work at a bar. Sometimes you need to make sure people stay put until the cops come and pick up their unruly carcasses.”

The Doctor fastened Roland's wrists together and then his ankles. Finished, she picked up the leather jacket again and played thoughtfully with the metal spikes on the shoulders.

“Are you going to unplug me now?” Bog prompted, watching the plants in the park unfurling leaves as they reached a height of roughly six feet, “Because I would really like to get down from here. Like, now.”

“It's not so simple as unplugging you,” Dawn held up one of the cables, “These are organic and integrated into your system and connecting you to the computer, which has become, well, basically a vital organ.”

“How vital?”

“Unplugging you would be like ripping out your heart.”

“And how are you going to fix it?”

“Well,” Dawn said slowly, tilting her head back and pointing her eyes away from Bog.

“We don't have a clue,” the Doctor said with characteristic bluntness.

“Okay . . . why are you wearing my jacket?”

Bog asked more to avoid thinking about the image of having his heart ripped out rather than any real interest.

“Because I'm nostalgic for when I wore a leather jacket. But mine never had spikes. Never thought of spikes. Why didn't I think of spikes? They send a very clear message of 'hands off unless you want multiple puncture wounds.”

“You used to wear a leather jacket?” Dawn asked, interested.

“I went through a phase. Or two. Now,” the Doctor clapped her hands together, “let's take a look at the computer.”

The Doctor pointed her sonic at the console and the walls flickered, the park being replaced with blocks of computer code. There were numbers, but also symbols like the ones Bog had seen the Doctor scribbling on a chalkboard. They were all round and intricate, like the inner workings of a watch.

“Marsh man, I need your help,”

“Sure, lemme just unhook myself.”

“Sarcasm is not helpful. Roland has rigged this up to follow his program, but you're still admin, your still the rightful owner and operator of this necklace. I'm going to take you back into the database while Dawn stays out here and works on disconnecting you.”

“But--!” Dawn looked up sharply from her study of the computer code, an objection on her lips.

“Just do it!' the Doctor snapped.

Dawn bowed her head and resumed her work.

“What, you mean go into that forest in my head again?” Bog asked, “Can't you at least get me down from this wall first?”

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor waved a hand and the wall shifted enough for Bog to slip free and collapse into a sitting position on the floor. The Doctor tossed him another bottle of water before he could ask for it, “I managed to hack the psychic interface, so the place is at our disposal.”

Trying and failing to unscrew the cap of the bottle, Bog couldn't help but look at his hands. They were twisted and root-like, knotting up at the joints, and covered with small twigs of new growth. The bottle still capped, Bog stared at his hands and asked, “How am I supposed to play the guitar like this?”

The words came out softer and sadder than he had intended them to.

The Doctor's small hands took his, the water bottle falling into his lap.

Light brown eyes were looking at him with an unshakable steadiness that spoke of large, immovable things, like ancient cliffs and burning stars, “This can be fixed.”

“It shouldn't have happened in the first place!” Bog jerked his hands free, “I would never have even been involved if you just left me alone! Your crazy ex thinks that I'm some sort of rival for your heart and I don't even like you!”

“Roland what now?” Dawn's head popped back up.

“According to Lord Hair Gel your sister and I are destined in the stars, or a fixed point in time, or whatever. I think his hair bleach has eaten away his brain. But that's what he thinks and that's why he did this . . . all this . . .”

Dawn's eyebrows had shot up into her hairline, “Is this true?”

“No!” the Doctor snapped, “of course not!”

“Look me in the eye, sister mine, and say that again.”

“Why should I have to? It's ridiculous.”

“You know something!”

“Stop.”

“Tell me! It might be important!”

“It isn't!”

The Doctor stood up, pulling off the jacket and throwing it over Bog's head before she stomped off to the other side of the room and pretended to be looking at the computer code.

Sunny walked over to Bog and picked up the bottle of water, twisting the cap off and handing the bottle back, “Dude, I have no idea what's going on.”

“I'm a plant now,” Bog replied, taking a drink.

“No, actually, picked up that much.”

“How bad do I look?”

“Uh . . .”

“If you say I need to moisturize then I will strangle you with these cables.”

“Mmm,” Sunny bit his lips and attempted to look innocent, “Well, the—the pieces of skin are kind of . . . messed up.”

Bog looked down at the dried out scraps of skin clinging to the dark shape of his arms. He could still see bits of the tattoo patterns visible. He rubbed at his arms to discard the useless skin, but quickly stopped, unnerved by the alien texture of his arms.

Like she had read his mind, the Doctor spoke up, “I recognized your tattoos as a corrupted Cheem crest. I assume the patterns had been passed down in your family.”

“Yeah. There's some old manuscripts. Illuminated. I used them as a basis for my sleeves.”

“Then you'll have the references to recreate them.”

“So you will be able to put me right?”

“We need to get started now. Get into the program and put you back in control. Ready?”

“No.”

“Excellent. We'll begin. Dawn, try to unplug Bog and keep the plant soldiers from doing anything too terrible. And try not to get distracted by kissing and things.”

“Have a nice date,” Dawn replied haughtily.

The Doctor's small, dark eyebrows drew down low over her eyes in an impressive glare that would have made most squirm when targeted by it. Dawn merely rolled her eyes and asked Sunny to help her pry off the top of the console.

The Doctor couched down in front of Bog again, reaching out to put her fingertips against his temples.

“Hah,” Bog said, “Can't believe a girl is actually going to touch this face.”

“Look, if you want me to comment on faces you've got another thing coming. For one thing, we've established I'm terrible at faces. For another, I've seen a lot weirder faces than a Cheem's. My judgment is skewed. Which, I suppose, is why I think your face is fairly inoffensive.”

“I'm flattered.”

“At least you've still got your cheekbones and blue eyes. Stupid blue eyes. Now,” the Doctor pinched his cheeks despite their rough texture, “think of the forest and don't let your thoughts wander.”

#strange magic #spread the lofe #potionless #butterfly bog #sir roland the scumbag #strange magic doctor who au #doctor who au #my writing #fanfic

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twins-luxan-er · 7 years

Text

Twins [chapter one]

Tyler and Ryan Godfrey

////-----------------------------////

Two small children ran through the meadow behind their house happily playing a game of war with their fingers disguised as pistols, shooting them at one another with grins on their faces. “Tyler! They’re infiltrating our airships and bases! We must act quickly!” Ryan said, pointing to the sky with his index finger, gesturing to the make-believe airships. “Ryan, what’s our plan of attack?” His older brother, Tyler, said, getting on one knee as to show a sign of loyalty. Ryan’s face went blank as if his brain was filled with confusion. “What’s that mean?” He asked, looking a little embarrassed. Tyler shrugged, his black hair falling into his eyes. “Maybe it means the method of attacking?”

Ryan shrugged but continued on with their game. “We shall take an emergency airship in order to ambush them!” Tyler nodded and started to initiate the startup sequence for the make-believe airship. “Hop on, Sir, we leave in ten seconds and counting!”

As Tyler started to count down, Ryan hopped onto the make-believe airship, but in the process he tripped on a discarded rock in the meadow, falling onto his brother. The two chuckled and rolled on the grass, looking at the clouds. “Hey, Tyler?” The younger of the two whispered as if anything louder would ruin everything, “Why do Mother and Father fight?”

Tyler lay next to Ryan with a serious expression on his face. “I don’t think either of them is happy.”

Ryan pouted. “What’s going to happen to us if they split up?”

“I don’t like thinking of the possibilities…” He said, his breath wavering.

The two stared at each other with the same words written in their eyes.

‘Don’t ever leave me’

~~~~~~~

Tyler closed his computer, ignoring the continuation of the video playing. He could hear his younger self shouting at his mother asking when their friend Melissa was coming over, and his younger brother asking the same thing after him. It brought tears to his eyes remembering that conversation. It had been two years since Ryan died and Tyler still couldn’t forget him or get over him.

He heard three soft knocks on his bedroom door. “Tyler? Are you awake?” The soft voice of his mother shook him out of his thoughts. Tyler muted his computer and rubbed his eyes sleepily. “Yeah, Mom, I’m up…” He stood up and wobbled over to his door, unlocking it and opening it for his mother. “Tyler, it’s nearly three in the morning, why aren’t you asleep?”

Tyler sighed. “I have a lot of things on my mind, Mom… Like Ryan…”

His mother lowered her head in understanding. She knew how hard Ryan’s death was for everyone, but it especially took a toll on Tyler. They were twins, after all. They were connected in every way. Mrs. Godfrey noticed the bags under her son’s eyes. “What time have you been going to sleep?” Her son shrugged, putting his computer on his desk next to his pile of books.

Sighing, Mrs. Godfrey pushed her son towards his bed. “Honey, you have multiple tests today! Sleep while you can, and I’ll take care of your lunch!”

Tyler just sat down on his bed while his mother ran around frantically trying to help her son. He couldn’t go back to sleep, which was why he was up in the first place. He unplugged his phone from its charger and shuffled his favourite playlist. Plugging his headphones, he laid down on his bed listening to the song that started to play. It was Bring Me The Horizon’s song, Throne.

Remember the moment you left me alone

Broke every promise you ever made

This was Ryan’s favourite band. For his and Tyler’s fifteenth birthday, their parents bought them tickets to their concert, though it was nearly a month away. The two of them freaked out about being able to go to BMTH’s concert. Their mother had videotaped their reaction, the video was now on Tyler’s computer in a file named ‘R Y A N’.

I was an ocean, lost in the open

Nothing could take the pain away

Tyler smiled at the memory. His brother was always one for music and instruments. He was in the school’s band as the first chair saxophone player. He’d practice day and night to get ready for any upcoming concerts. Tyler would sit and listen to him play.

So you can throw me to the wolves

Tomorrow I will come back

Leader of the whole pack

He heard a loud crash coming from his kitchen. He shot up out of his bed, discarding his phone and music, and ran to his kitchen. When he arrived, his mother was sitting on the floor wearing her gardening gloves picking up the glass of fallen plates. “Mother,” Tyler said, kneeling down next to her, “What happened?” She rubbed her head sheepishly. “I was making your breakfast, but I grabbed too many plates.” She gestured to the glass shards lying on the floor. “I dropped them, but thankfully only one broke.”

Tyler helped his mother pick up the glass and offered to help with breakfast, but she insisted that he sleep. He protested that he wasn’t tired and could help, but she told him once he didn’t have bags under his eyes she’d believe him. He turned back towards the direction of his bedroom hearing his music playing from the distance. When he entered the room, he realized it wasn’t his room.

His eyes landed on the neatly made bed. No one had laid in there for two years now. The room smelled like apples and pencil shavings and had four unopened gifts laying on the desk. Tyler wanted to cry, but he made a promise. So the brunette bit his lip wiped his eyes and sat down on the white coloured rug that laid in the middle of the floor. He sighed and looked at the out-of-date calendar that was pinned to the wall. A date was circled in silver sharpie, February 29th. The birthday of the Godfrey twins. Tyler felt himself begin to tear up.

Ryan died just three days after their birthday. Those were the gifts Tyler gave him.

Tyler felt his tears fall onto his hands. He tried to repress his sobs, but they couldn’t be held back anymore. He heard loud footsteps pass by Ryan’s old room. “Tyler! Breakfast is ready!”

He heard his mother open his bedroom door. She hummed in confusion and almost walked past Ryan’s old room, but she caught Tyler sitting on the floor out of the corner of her eye. “Tyler? Honey?” She whispered, kneeling down next to him, “What’s wrong?”

Tyler let out a strangled sob. “I miss Ryan, Mom… I miss him… So much…”

He felt his mother’s arms wrap around him. “It’s going to be okay, honey..” She said, rubbing his back in a soothing manner. “Cheer up, Tyler… Ryan would want you to enjoy your birthday for him…”

Tyler’s eyes widened. That’s right.

Today was their birthday.

#bmth #bring me the horizon #throne #mystery #original #chapter one #chapter 1

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