#99% of it was done using a single brush and i never used it before

[angeart]

had a sudden urge to draw watcher grian today. for enrichment.

[eriexplosion]

Yesterday everyone was posting their feelings on TBB. I'm glad I waited, because there's a lot swirling around. Cut for negativity again.

I was introduced to The Bad Batch in August 2022 and fell instantly in love. The characters, the story, the complex family dynamics, they all spoke to me. I wasn't even a Star Wars fan but I went through and devoured The Clone Wars, Rebels, The Mandalorian, all of it. I threw myself into this world and adored every second of it. I must have rewatched season one over five times before season two even came out.

When season two premiered I loved it. Every Tuesday night I stayed up until the episode drop and devoured it immediately. I looked ahead at the schedule and took days off work for the double episodes, for the big Crosshair episodes - he was my favorite early on and season two only made that grow. But season two also really brought Tech into my radar even more. I had always liked him, but here he was shining. The Crossing really solidified it, as an autistic person. I'd never heard someone describe the difference in processing so succinctly before, so clearly, and it spoke to me like very little had. Here was a character that was like me. Here was a character that I needed when I was an undiagnosed child, someone that would have made me feel like I had at least some way of describing my differences.

Then, well. He died. It was an affecting scene, but it felt out of nowhere, it felt unfinished. Tech didn't even get the climax of the episode. He just fell into the clouds, the Batch grieved for a few minutes, and then the plot steamrolled right along.

I didn't believe it, not after the mad scientist presented his goggles and claimed not to salvage anything else. It seemed like such an obvious fake out. The longer I sat with it the less satisfying it felt. It felt so brushed over, so pointless, all for a mission that they accomplished nothing on. Then came the social media circus. Again and again his fall was shoved in our faces on Twitter, demanding we stream it. TikToks were made that were so out of touch they felt like parodies, the wound ripped open again and again, and I thought surely there had to be a purpose to it.

So I waited for season 3 as interviews were done that seemed to almost intentionally avoid calling him dead. As tweets were made promising we'd be so fulfilled if we could only see who was onscreen in the mid-season! (A tweet that immediately garnered dozens of people hoping it referred to Tech, all without a single comment to try and quell the speculation.) It felt already like we were being toyed with, but I thought it had to be for a reason or a purpose. More weirdly vague discussions went up about his Sacrifice, his Fall, his Anything But Death, even as everyone insists that it was so meaningful, the way he died on a mission that accomplished nothing. Jokes were made around Valentines Day.

He Fell For You, get it?

The first official use of killed went up on the databank right after the trailer, on Hunter's page of all places. The first time the interviews used dead was the Friday before the premier. It all felt too late, theories had already grown for months by that point.

Season 3 finally came and I waited up for every episode drop just like I did for season 2, hoping for him to come back or at least for him to be properly grieved, since we had barely a couple of minutes in Plan 99 before it was swept away for the next plot point. Surely Tech's impact deserved an episode of focus, if he were really gone.

The previously on plays his last words twice. But then we skip months into the future. We don't see Crosshair find out the news - even though Tech died on a mission to retrieve him. We don't watch Omega grieve. She barely seems to notice she's missing a brother. We got a brief allusion in episode two. It took three episodes to even mention his name in passing. Five episodes in everyone got their chance to look sad about him, but only for a few seconds and only when his skills were relevant. Compared to the gorgeous callback to Mayday in the same episode, it felt shallow. He had to have been more important than this didn't he?

Episodes 6 & 7 felt like maybe there was a reason. We see a new masked assassin that gets extra focus, who got put through a series of Tech-adjacent situations, whose beef with Crosshair was just a little too personal, who survived longer than all the rest but stayed masked. Rex talks about losing brothers, but Hunter says nothing about the brother they lost. I hoped it all meant something, that this was the reason that he felt so much like he was thrown away, so that he could come back in.

More one off mentions that only really come up when it's about how useful Tech would have been. More poking at the wound that still felt open and raw because we'd never gotten any closure. The closest we get is a single scene in episode eleven, so late in the season and so brief that I thought that couldn't possibly be it.

CX-2 comes back, and he talks like Tech. He's still not unmasked. I really need him to be something because otherwise what was it all for?

The most emotion comes in Juggernaut, from Phee. Its a highlight because it actually feels like it was about him, like he mattered as a person. It's episode twelve and we finally talk about him like a person. We never saw her get the news either.

Episodes thirteen and fourteen pass without any mentions at all. We're running out of time. Episode 15 hits and we get one raw one from Crosshair that Clone Force 99 died with Tech. It's the first time they directly say he's dead in so many words. It's the season finale. CX-2 is a nobody it turns out, and he dies faceless. Everyone gets a happy ending and after over a year of wondering if we'd ever get closure, it turns out Tech's just dead. But look how happy everyone else is!

Everyone gets to grow old. Except the autistic one of course. He's just dead and it hardly feels like it mattered at all. Did you know Wrecker and Hunter don't use his name once in season three? Omega and Echo mention him once each. Crosshair twice, only once with any emotion behind it. Phee tops the charts at three mentions, two by name and one by nickname. We see his goggles four times. I kept count.

There was never a bigger plan, this was just all he was worth. We spent two seasons on Crosshair's absence. We spent a whole episode dealing with it when Echo decided to go with Rex. Tech dies though and all his life amounted to was a handful of mentions when his skills would have been useful, some shots of his broken goggles, and endless cooing out of the text over how meaningful his sacrifice was. Too meaningful to take back, of course, even as Ventress is brought back from her own sacrifice.

I had really, really thought that this time autistic life would be worth more than autistic death. That a character that felt so carefully handled couldn't have just been thrown away for shock value, barely to even be mentioned again, his memory used to string us along to keep us watching. If you added up every mention and shot through season 3 it might actually clock in at less time than was spent on Mayday's send off.

I'm an adult. I'll survive, though the sting of seeing yet another character like me used as a stepping stone for everyone else's happy ending will take a while to fade. But I think about the child I used to be who needed a character like Tech. And I think about how it would have felt to actually get that only to watch him die a handful of episodes later as a side note to his family's story, barely even mentioned again. How badly it would have hurt, how deep it would have scarred.

I'm not that child anymore. But there are a lot of autistic kids out there that are the same as I used to be, and they're learning for the first time that people like us don't get happy endings. Instead they die so that everyone around them can rise up, and they might even get mentioned a few times. But don't worry. Everyone will tell you how meaningful and special it is and how delusional you were to ever hope for anything else.

The Bad Batch still means a lot to me. I think it always will. I love the characters. I love the family, and all the potential they had. But the sting of not belonging in this happy ending is there, and it's deep. It's been a long time since I trusted a show. It'll be a long time before I risk trusting another. And I hope that the autistic kids trying to learn how to close their hearts off behind new walls are doing okay.

[a-heart-like-a-sparrow]

September 8th, 2024 - Birds outside

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

I woke up at 6 AM. I could hear the birds singing and the rhythmical sound of pigeons.

Rooo roo-roooo... Rooo roo-roooo...

I know it.

I used to listen to it when I left my house to go to school. I would be up at 7 and I had to be ready in less than 30 minutes.

I'd have breakfast in bed and I didn't really have to do a lot. It was basically my mother who did everything.

She would brush my hair in the dinning room. My father would always listen to the radio.

Father.

I would wear some childish perfume and pray right outside school because I would always arrive a bit late and enter when the whole protocol finished.

One time I arrived with pigtails. I was so proud.

Now I barely leave this house. Fuck, I barely even sleep. So I already know exactly how little birds sing at dawn.

I don't have a plain hair anymore. I wear eyeliner. I crave something interesting every day because if not the other option is suicide.

I'm a big kid now.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I would have cried at morning if I hadn't done that too much at night.

I never made an effort in order to do things. To get better.

So why would I even do it now?

I'm immature.

Because I want to get my hair brushed in the morning. Not alone at home

Home?

At 12 PM.

Because I want to be cradled by the car at night like a baby. That was the best way to make me sleep before.

Because I want to be treated in the way I'm supposed to be. Like a child.

Because I am.

I'm 99% water. And every single night I have to squeeze every part of my body to get it out.

Only for it to be filled back with it again.

For the rest of my life.

I guess.

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 98: Reading, Nervous, Unabashedly, and Shy

Harry was unabashedly obsessed with Draco Malfoy.

He'd decided that he was Harry fucking Potter and he could like whomever he wanted to like and to hell with what everyone else thought.

Draco Malfoy was sitting in the corner of the library, reading a book that looked like it was older than time, and Harry couldn't stop staring at him. The sun was streaming in and catching in his blonde hair and turning it gold and with the dust motes drifting around him, he looked ethereal.

"Are you listening to a word that I am saying?" Hermione asked him.

"No," he said honestly.

Ron snorted and Harry glanced at the two of them in time to see them both rolling their eyes.

"It's not my fault," Harry protested. "He's just so..." he trailed off, looking back over at the other boy who was lost in his book, "pretty," he said helplessly.

"So you've mentioned," Hermione said.

"About a hundred times," Ron added.

He groaned, "But it's not just that, is it? He's also all," he shrugged, "Soft." He paused, "Different than he used to be, you know. And he's running that group to help muggleborns acclimate to the Wizarding world-"

"We know," Hermione interrupted.

Ron nodded, "You've told us a hundred times. Just go ask him out."

(Read more below the cut)

Nervous energy filled up every inch of Harry's body at the thought. "I can't."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Walked up bold as brass to Voldemort, though."

"I had to," Harry replied. "Besides it was either confront him or die anyway." He looked back over at Malfoy and sighed.

"Nope," Hermione said, slamming her book shut. "I'm done. I'm not watching this for another moment."

"I had to watch the two of you for years!"

She shook her head and shoved her parchments in her school bag, "Not my problem. Lunch, Ronald?"

He gave Harry an apologetic look but quickly packed up and followed Hermione out, leaving Harry sitting alone at their table.

Unfortunately he could never be alone for long. After a few minutes he could sense that a handful of people were starting to creep closer and he was not about to do that. He picked up his things and moved across the room as quickly as possible, before he could lose what little nerve he'd seemed to muster and stopped in front of Draco's table. "Err," he started, then immediately wanted to kick himself because he sounded like and idiot. "Can I sit here?"

Draco didn't move an inch and he waited a beat before trying again.

"Err, Draco?"

The other boy's head snapped up from his book as though Harry had awoken him from a dream. "Sorry," the boy said, looking around in confusion, "Are you talking to me?"

"Yeah," Harry said, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck and dropping the papers he'd been holding. "Bugger," he grumbled, bending down to pick them up and promptly banging his head on the table that Draco was sitting at. "Ow fuck!" he hissed, dropping the rest of his books, rubbing at the spot on his forehead, and contemplating just bashing his head against the table again out of sheer frustrated embarrassment.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, and when Harry looked up he saw that the other boy was hovering anxiously by his side.

"Fine," Harry grunted, "Just my pride."

Draco laughed, "Well, if that's all."

Harry mock glared at him and carefully bent down to pick up his things. Pale fingers brushed over his as Draco bent down to help him.

"Sorry," Draco said, snatching his hand away from Harry's quickly and Harry's stomach sank.

"It's fine," he said once he'd managed to gather up his things. "Sorry to have bothered you."

"It's no bother," Draco said quickly before Harry could fully turn away. "Was there something you wanted?"

He turned and took a deep breath, "I was asking if I could sit at your table?"

The other boy's brow furrowed, "You want to sit with me?"

"Right," Harry said, "It's stupid. Ron and Hermione just left-" he started before shaking his head, "People don't-" he rubbed a hand over his mouth, "I thought it might be nice," he finally settled on. "But you're right. It's stupid. I'll just-"

"You're welcome to sit with me," Draco said. "If you wanted to?" he added. "Like not because you felt like you needed to save me from being alone or-"

"What?" Harry said. "No. You looked totally fine being alone," he said. "No, it's me that's not fine being alone. Not that I can't-"

"Harry," Draco said, the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. "I would very much like it if you joined me."

His heart beat a little quicker, "I would like that."

With a little nod, Draco returned to his seat and Harry slid into the seat across from him. "What are you reading?" Harry asked.

"Don't laugh," Draco murmured, looking up at him.

Harry crossed his heart and put on his most serious face.

"It's an old book of muggle fairytales. They're ghastly and fascinating," he said. "Like this one," he said, gesturing to the page he was on, "The Little Mermaid."

"Oh, I know that story," Harry said, eager to find some common ground, "A mermaid gets her voice taken away by an evil sea witch in exchange for legs," Draco nodded with a pleased little smile. "And then she tried to get the prince to fall in love with her but the sea witch enchants him, then her father has to come and save the day."

Draco frowns, "No. The Prince marries another girl and she's told she can keep her legs if she kills him. She doesn't and ends up being turned into sea foam."

"What?"

"I know!" Draco said, "I told you they're ghastly."

"What else?" Harry asked.

"There's a story about a Princess who sleeps on a pile of mattresses with a single pea underneath that turns her black and blue."

"The Princess and the Pea," Harry nods.

"There's one about a girl who has to serve her step mother and step sisters," Draco said.

"Cinderella."

Draco nods, "You've heard it?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "It's a classic. Basically all muggle children know it."

"They tell you a story about girls cutting off their heels and getting their eyes pecked out by birds?"

"What? No!" Harry laughed. "They tell you a story about a commoner becoming a princess because the prince matches her slipper to her foot."

"But what about the step sisters cutting off pieces of their feet-"

"Ew! No!" Harry protested. "That's disgusting."

He nudged the book across the table, "You don't know your muggle stories as well as you think."

"Alright," Harry said, "What's the next one?"

Draco looked down at the book and flipped a few pages, "Sleeping Beauty," he replied. "Do you know this one?"

He nodded, "Long story short a girl is cursed, pricks her finger on a spinning wheel and falls into a deep sleep, and is then awoken by true love's kiss. Maleficent gets killed in the end."

"Well, let's see if you're right."

Draco started to read aloud and Harry listened becoming more and more horrified as the story went on.

When he finally reached the ending Harry couldn't help but say, "Wait," he shook his head, "The author called it a happy ending for her to end up with the guy who was married to someone else and impregnated her while she was asleep?" he asked incredulously.

"I told you!" Draco said, "These stories are ghastly."

"Disgusting," Harry said.

"Quite." Draco closed the book and stretched a bit.

Harry asked, "How long have you been here?"

He shrugged, "I came here after breakfast."

"It's nearly 5:00," Harry said.

Draco nodded.

"Would you," he started, then swallowed, "Maybe like to get dinner with me?"

A shy smile crept onto Draco's face but he nodded.

"I feel it's only fair for me to tell you that I like you."

He laughed softly, "I like you, too."

"No, like I like-like you." Harry clarified.

"I feel the same," Draco replied with a grin.

"Oh," Harry said.

"Yes, oh."

"Good. That's..." he trailed off, too giddy to find words, "good."

Draco laughed again and they started packing up their things.

"I think I know what our first official date should be," Harry said as they started off toward the Great Hall.

"Oh?" the other boy asked, his shoulder bumping casually against Harry's as they walked.

"I'm taking you to watch all of the Disney versions of those stories. You deserve to see happy endings for those."

Draco hummed in agreement, "Yes. Happy endings would be lovely all around."

And a few years down the road, when Harry proposed he was sure to tell Draco (for the first of many times) that he was his happy ending.

------------

Day 97: Mine and Dark | Day 99: Risk

[rebelwrites]

Head And Heart

Clay Spenser x Reader

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Clay Spenser Masterlist

This Months Writing

“So is Y/N coming?” Clay asked Sonny, as he brought the tray of meat out to him.

“Yeah, she will be here any time,” Sonny laughed, “Why so interested in her Blondie? Every time I have a get together you always ask if she is coming.”

“No reason,” Clay laughed, not wanting to admit that he had a crush on you, he had for the last couple of years. In fact the moment he had joined Bravo team, the moment he saw you that was it, he was a goner. But he never acted on his feelings because you were in a committed relationship but now you were single, he was going to shoot his shot.

“Stop lying,” Sonny laughed, “I have seen the way you look at her, how you hang off every word when shes telling a story, you like her don’t you?”

“Urm yeah,” Clay mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Not sure how Sonny would take the news that he was crushing hard on someone that was basically his little sister.

“All I say is good fucking luck,” Sonny laughed, “After her that dickhead cheated on her she doesn’t trust easily and apparently she is never falling in love again, they weren’t her exact words but it was along those lines.”

“Trust me, I have the charm, I’m sure I can show her how love can be.” Clay shrugged, as the sound of the garden gate slammed closed, gaining their attention.

“Speak of the devil,” Sonny chuckled, “but if you can break through the walls she has built then go for it.”

The moment you walked into the garden, you near enough froze as your eyes landed on Clay, it had been awhile since you had seen him due to work but damn he had had a glow up, it was obvious he had spent most of his free time in the gym, the way his shirt pulled against this biceps, made your mouth water, add the backwards cap and fuck you nearly melted. Your brain malfunctioning.

Mentally you cursed yourself, he was Sonny’s best friend, you couldn’t go there even if you wanted to. You weren't going to open your heart to someone that you wouldn’t be able to avoid if things went wrong. Shaking off the thoughts, you made your way over to Sonny, who engulfed you in a tight hug.

“Good to see you could make it,” Sonny laughed, passing you a beer “I’m surprised work let you out of that cage they had you in.”

“Yeah, well I kinda quit, so you will be seeing me a lot more now Quinn.” You smirked.

“It's about time you grew the balls to quit.” He nodded.

Slowly you made your way around the group, hugging everyone and catching up, leaving Clay till last because for some reason all your confidence went out the window the moment you saw him.

The beers and food were flowing and there was a buzz in the air. This was what your life was missing, you missed being around Bravo.

You were now in the kitchen, having a moment to compose yourself, Clay had been flirting with you all night and you didn’t know how much longer you could take.

“You ran off,” He laughed, standing behind you, so close you could feel his chest pressed against your back.

“I needed to pee” You laughed.

“I have to say, you are looking good, I know its been a while since I last saw you and all I can think is damn,” He hummed, his hot breath tickling your neck, “The new hair colour really suits you.”

“Clay,” You whispered, you needed the flirting to stop, there was another reason you hadn’t been around as much and that was because you were starting to develop feelings for the youngest member of Bravo. “Please stop flirting with me, I am not going to fall for it.”

“Oh really,” Clay chuckled, as he placed his hands on your hips, “What's up scared by flirting with me that it will lead to something?”

“Spenser, flirting leads to something 99% of the time,” You whispered, trying to control your breathing and ignore the feel of electricity running through your skin as he ran his thumb over the skin on your hips.

“Maybe it doesn’t, maybe it's just a bit of fun.” He whispered.

“Clay,” You whispered. “You are Sonny’s best friend, nothing can happen between us.” Somehow you managed to wiggle out of his arms, you needed some air.

You wanted to open your heart up, you wanted to see what happened with Clay but something was holding you back and you weren't quite sure what it was. You knew in your heart you would be good together, the two of you had always been good and people actually thought you were a couple about a year ago but you just couldn’t make the leap.

“You okay there?” Sonny asked, nudging your shoulder.

“I’m not actually feeling great,” You mumbled, “I’m gonna take a nap I think.”

“You know where my bed is,” Sonny smiled, he had seen you and Clay in the kitchen and he knew you were lying to him but he played along, it was worth it not to get a black eye for asking questions. “I will come check on you in about an hour.”

Nodding at him, you made your way inside the house and headed to his bedroom. Your mind was racing and you didn’t know what to do or whether to listen to your head or heart.

It had been a month since Sonny’s get together, and somehow you had managed to avoid Clay. To be honest it was pretty easy as they got spun up and had been for the last two weeks. But ever since that night you hadn’t been able to get him out of your head, he had taken over your thoughts, and now your dreams.

The text you received from Sonny was vague to say the least, but it was Sonny afterall so you didn’t question it. All you knew was it involved food and that's all you cared about. But the one thing that confused you was he wanted you to meet him at the park, which could only mean a picnic and they definitely weren't Sonny’s style.

As you got closer to the spot you were told, you saw someone sitting on the blanket, but it wasn’t Sonny. It was Clay, and in that moment you were ready to kill Sonny for this set up.

“You don’t give up do you?” You laughed, sitting down on the blanket.

“I just want a chance,” Clay whispered.

“I’ve sat down haven't I?” You smirked, you had done a lot of thinking over the last month and you were willing to listen to your heart, you had missed the feeling of being in love, you missed having that someone to come home to and you missed being held. “One chance Spenser, this is your one chance.”

“Really?” He whispered, taking your hand in his.

“Yes, for some reason I can’t get you off my mind and it’s driving me crazy.” You admitted.

It felt like time had stood still, the hours passed, your stomach hurt from laughing so much. Both of your phones were thrown in the bottom of the picnic basket and you were enjoying the company. You had your head in Clay’s lap, as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I have a confession,” You giggled, “So the night of Sonny’s get together last month, you stopped me in my tracks, the moment I saw you I was pretty sure my brain malfunctioned.”

“Welcome to my world for the last couple of years every time you walked into a room,” Clay smiled, brushing his knuckles against your cheek.

“What the hell,” You whispered, sitting up right. You had nothing to lose at the moment and you needed to know if that spark was there. So you took a deep breath before kissing him.

It took Clay a couple of seconds for his brain to realise what was happening, but he smiled into the kiss, as he wrapped his arm around your waist, gently guiding you down so you were laying down with him hovering over you.

Your lips move in sync with one another, your fingers playing with the hair on the back on his neck, your stomach was doing flips, your heart was racing. You knew you were fucked, the sparks were there, the way he made you feel was something no one else had managed. But there was something about Clay that made you want to take the risk.

“So does this mean I get more than one night?” He breathed against your lips, making you laugh.

“You are a dork,” You giggled.

“Serious question now, does this mean you will be my girl?” He asked, his eyes sparkling in the light from the sunset.

“I like the sound of that,” You whispered, “Your girl.”

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea @seik-o @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @pancakeisreading @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace

[ahsokasleftbicep]

Name and Soul: Chapter 4

Alright, let's get this angst moving!! Hope you enjoy it!

@mqgriett @darkangel4121 @thelambandthewolffe @maulscrosshair @trash-dino-5000 @lightning-wolffe @killtherandomness @shadowwing1324

Crosshair x F! reader

Word Count: 2017

Warnings: SPOILERS for episode 4, Tarkin being awful, Rampart being ugh, Sad Crosshair, internal conflict, Hunter and reader tensions, injury, a single curse word

The firing range was dark and empty, just how he liked it. Crosshair moved from his crouched position to his stomach, reloading his weapon and taking aim at the practice droids. Bang. Bang. The droids drop, sending a hollow thud throughout the room. He knew Tarkin was watching, he always did. So did Nala Se. They talked. Anytime Crosshair looked up at the observation room, he saw the two talking. Probably about her. Private L/N. His head hurt, well the right side did. Like a constant headache, it never went away. It was only worse when he was around the regs. Or his squad. They annoyed him. The man paused his training and then stood up, packing his gear. I need to get the mission done. I need to find them. Find her. Kill them. Take her. Easy enough… right. Every time he thought about her, that little metal ring felt heavier than usual. Oh well.

--

“You be careful okay? Stay with Hunter and Echo, look but don’t touch. Got it?” You brushed off some dust from Omega’s shirt.

“Yep! I got it!” The girl smiled at you before walking over to Echo.

Things had gotten much more complicated over the last few days. There were no more rations and the ship was on a wanted list. These sort of situations could be handled normally, but with Omega, you all had to think of the best way to keep her safe. Some tensions had been growing also, between you and Hunter, everyone felt it. You knew that the Sergeant had good intentions, but he had yet to acknowledge anything that happened on Kamino. With Crosshair. Wrecker tried to tell you that it was how he hid it, but it still irked you. Hunter had been just as devastated as you, and he kept it all in. You drove the past few days from your mind, looking at Echo in his getup.

“Looking good Echo.”

The man raises his hands and turns in a circle. “I know.” The two of you look at each other before breaking out in chuckles.

“Does the headpiece feel okay? Any recalibrations before you guys head out?” You take a quick look at the controls.

“Feels good so far, I think it’s fine.”

The sergeant came over from talking to the Sullustan dock master, securing his pack.

“Let’s head out.”

“Do you have any credits left after paying him off?”

“I have enough to get what we need.”

“Well, be careful.” You speak monotonically.

“Will do.” The two men and Omega start walking towards the market.

You walk towards the ship, towards Tech and Wrecker.

“Why do they get to go sightseeing again?” Wrecker lifts a large metal piece away so Tech can scramble the ship's signature.

You move out of his way, removing your top armor to help Tech with the ship. “It’s a supply mission. And besides, it’s not the first time we’ve seen this planet.”

Tech cleared his throat. “Uh Y/N? Can you get this small piece in here?... Please.”

“Yes!” You walk up to the ship, stepping up on a box and reaching out for the part. “Got it!”

“Much appreciated.” Tech fixes his goggles before heading back towards the inverters.

“Do you need anything else at the moment?”

“I don’t believe so, but thank you Y/N.”

--

“Sir? You asked for me.” Rampart walked into Tarkin's office.

“Ah Rampart, yes I did.” Tarkin looked up from a datapad. He put the device down and folded his hands.

“Is everything okay sir?”

“Yes, it is. I was curious about your progress on Private L/N’s file.”

The vice admiral sat down. “I have found a little more about her life before the Clone Wars. Nothing that we can use to our advantage yet. She has no family; they were killed in a raid in her village. A civil war broke out shortly after and she was drafted. She got into the Academy based on skill and exceeded in marksmanship among other things. GAR offered her a job when the war started, she joined Clone Force 99 shortly after.”

Tarkin listened and hummed, “Has there been any luck in finding her? Or the clones.”

“No, L/N’s training serves her and the clones well. No sightings nor upsets have been reported.”

Tarkin stands and looks through the glass window. “Very well then. Maintain your search. As I said, L/N’s skills will be useful to your project. Once you find something, send the sniper out to retrieve her.”

“Understood sir.” Rampart rose and walked out. I will find you, L/N. Whether you like it or not.

--

“Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Y/N. I lost Omega. Someone attacked us.” Hunter’s voice comes out scratchy through the comm-link. Your head shot up looking between Tech and Wrecker.

“Somebody who?” Wrecker responded.

“A woman. Highly trained. She’s after the kid.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Wrecker grabs his helmet, you grab your rifle and run off, the large man following behind.

“Y/N, your armor-.” Tech called out but you were already gone.

You and Wrecker run through the streets.

“I have eyes on Omega, she’s in the maintenance tunnels. Head northwest, at 155. And hurry, she’s got company.” “Wrecker you take that way, I’ll come from the back.” You say as you approach the street.

“Got it.”

You run through the street, hitting a couple of people, not that you cared about being polite at the moment.

“Wrecker, come in?” Silence. “Wrecker. Do you copy?”

“I do not see Wrecker, but Omega is hanging from a tower in the skyway.”

“Oh no.” You breathe out, trying to run faster.

Some speeder pulls up next to you. “Y/N! Get on!” It was Hunter, he held his hand out.

You grip his arm and pull yourself up. “I got the woman, you get Omega.”

Hunter speeds up, and you crouch on the back seat.

“Where’s your armor?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, that makes me feel better. I’m not losing another member of my team.”

“We don’t have time for this, Hunter.”

“He-.”

“Stop! He’s not dead, he hasn’t disappeared. So stop acting like Crosshair just vanished.” You raise your voice. “Focus on Omega.”

You approach the tower only to see Omega fall into a shipping vessel. The woman jumps in afterward. The woman fires at the speeder, but Hunter swerves out of the way. A moment later the back of the vessel starts tilting, taking the woman… and Omega along with it. The woman falls onto another ship. Omega dangles on a strap, way too far above the ground. Hunter is about to grab her-

‘You guys! Look out!” The woman rams into the speeder, tossing you off and sending Hunter in a spin.

“Y/N!”

You’re able to grab onto the back of her ship, pulling yourself up. The woman grabs her weapon but you knock it out of her hand. She kicks you in the stomach before you slam her into the controls of the ship. She kicks back before grabbing a smaller blaster, and then your shoulder starts to burn. Your right shoulder is shot, the skin burned and irritated. Shit. You stumble back.

“Y/N!” You hear two voices at once, one being Omega.

“It’s okay, just stay there.”

The ship starts to shake, when you look behind you, you see that Hunter shot out one of the thrusters. This throws off your balance and you fall over the edge, gripping the end with your good arm.

“Y/N! You need to drop!” You see Hunter hold up a pyro denton. You look around you, seeing a tarp below you, covering some stand.

“Throw it now! I’ll be okay!” You come just above the tarp and let go. You land on the cover before connecting with the ground. The ship explodes and not a moment later, Hunter comes up and puts you on the bike, with Omega.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” The girl looks at your shoulder and winces.

“I’m fine, this isn’t the worst injury I’ve gotten.” Despite the wound being mostly cauterized, the shock and minor blood loss made you woozy. Everything just faded out. Someone picked you up, probably Hunter.

“We need to go. Now. Get a medkit.”

--

You woke up with a groan, your shoulder was sore and bandaged in a sling. You threw your legs over your bed and walked out into the common area.

“What did I miss?”

Omega jumped up and ran to you. “Y/n, are you okay? You’re going to be okay right? You got hit and then-”

“Omega.” You hug her. “I’m okay, it takes a little more than a blaster wound to take me down.”

The girl hugs you back, relieved. The others gathered around, Hunter looked pissed.

“Did we find out who that woman was?”

“Bounty hunter, based on her skills.” Hunter returned, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Makes sense. And she's after Omega.” You pat the girl on the head. “We need to be more careful.”

Everyone nods and heads back to the cockpit, except Hunter.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t need the lecture, Hunter.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?” You bite back, adjusting your sling.

“Look, I know you’re upset about Kamino, and what happened with Crosshair-”

“No, I’m upset that out of everyone on this ship, you are the only one who has yet to acknowledge him. When Wrecker mentioned Crosshair, you shut it down.” You stood up moving closer to the sergeant. “I know you’re hurting just as badly, but the longer we leave him on Kamino the worse it’s going to get.”

“We’ll get him back-”

“When we stop running, maybe start planning. That’s a start.” You turn towards your room, your eyes brimming with tears. “If you don’t come up with something, and fast. I will. And I will do it alone if I have to. I am not going to leave my husband there to rot and be Tarkin’s attack dog.”

--

“CT-9904. What is your experience with Private L/N? Is she reliable?” Tarkin asked the gray-haired man.

“Yes, her skills were helpful on missions.” The man tensed, his mind racing. What’s he got planned for her? Don’t listen to him! Leave Y/N alone! Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP! FOCUS!

“When you bring her back, you will be in charge of training her after her conditioning. From there, she will become a part of your squad. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The clone was dismissed and walked past Rampart. He caught a glimpse of a file, your file, on his datapad. Why is everyone so interested in her? It’s not like she’ll come willingly, she’s a traitor. I miss her. She LEFT me. She loves me. No, she doesn’t. She couldn’t.

He sat on his bunk, thankfully the barracks were empty. Images flashed in his head, of you, your laugh, your smile. He grabbed his head and fell to his knees, shaking. Hot tears fell from his eyes as he wept to the empty room.

--

“Y/N?” Omega peeks through your door. You are cleaning your rifle. “Should you be doing that?”

You chuckle, “Yes, but it’s taking a little longer than usual… Do you want to give me a hand?”

The girl perks up, “Really?”

“Yeah, consider it your first lesson on taking care of your weapon.” You move over to make room for Omega.

“Where do I start?” The girl picks up a rag and looks at you lost.

“Here, see that little gear right there? That’s one of the most important parts. If you don’t take care of it, the rifle can jam…”

You repeated the same words that Crosshair said to you, minus the sarcasm and occasional curse. Word for word of what he said came out of your mouth as if you traded places. For a moment, it felt like he was right there with you. You thought you heard someone crying. Someone weeping. Like they were right there with you.

[junhuiste]

break the code (ex-wip)

pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

wc: 1900

tags/warning: basketball!soonyoung, college au, slightly suggestive language, cursing

a/n: this was something i started way back in 2017 when i was 15 lol and i tried going back to it and finishing but i just can’t seem to continue it!! but i don’t want it to just sit in my drafts so i’m just going to post the unfinished wip! i might do this with a lot of wips i’ve had collecting dust over the years (and they’re like 99% svt lol); if i ever do find some stroke of inspo to finish it i might but for now enjoy the 1900 words i wrote when i was a sophomore

“But babe, you’ll sit on my side, right?” Soonyoung continued to pester you with countless little questions to which he knew the exact answers to.

You pursed your lips at your boyfriend; mild sorrow and guilt clouded your eyes. In return he pout your favorite pair of plush pillows to kiss, with dull bleakness and dismals fogging his irises. It was hard, really, to resist the pull of a magnet, who was trying every trick in the book to coerce you to sit on his school’s side of the bleachers for the upcoming basketball game on Friday.

Had it been that both of you were just your run-of-the-mill university couple, tachycardia would’ve caused you to blurt out “yes” instantaneously just by being gazed upon by Soonyoung, but alas, the big guy upstairs made it to be so that you technically couldn’t through the rulebook of the sibling code.

A flushed palm extended to your denim-covered thighs, with the utmost desire lacing his fingers.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” His digits creeped towards your inner thigh, getting closer to the actual cherry he wanted on top.

“Soonyoung, no matter how well you do me, I’m still obligated to sit on my side of the bleachers.”

None of Soonyoung’s coercions could persuade you to decide about where to sit. You really would’ve preferred to sit on his side, but with your current situation, none of that was possible. It was a precarious oscillation between blood and water, and neither did you want to drown in with regret for embracing one over another.

“Fine. If you can’t cheer me on–which is a pitiful shame–let me take you out to eat after the game. And we can make out in my car or something so he won’t have to know.” Soonyoung’s gaze no longer held flashes of fervor, but rather a decadent gleam of sheer admiration.

“It’s a done deal, but you better promise me to dunk on him, or be prepared to get dunked on by him. As of right now, however, you owe me some kisses for making me wobble continuously back and forth between your side and his before I go,” you taunted, “come here you little rascal.”

Soonyoung gleamed at you piercingly, yielding you to lean forward against him as a shock of joy sparked up your back. His hand feathered along the back of your thigh, brushing it so longingly, with a tinge of impertinence here and there. You could feel the urgency radiating from him as he struggled to press you even closer to him, as there were no more gaps to be filled. He grasped your chin gingerly, before connecting his lips with yours, wanting to revel in dire coalescence he’d been awaiting upon your arrival.

Soonyoung is the warm bath you dip yourself into after constant exhaustion, the meager yet compelling and needed breeze as the sun beats down you, the red mark that’s actually relieving and boasts “A+” on a hard worked assignment, the last basket shot as the clock dashes away with the snickering seconds, and he is what has you torn on where your loyalty stands, but you can’t thank him enough for that strife.

You pulled away first because getting you two to separate would be a long ass haul, and maybe it was also getting late, just maybe. Your eyes glimpsed at the badgering hands that indicated 11:35 PM, and nothing but a sullen sigh managed to escape your lips.

It wasn’t fair, how time sashayed away, but there were no seconds left to spare to sulk about it, so you caressed the tranquility Soonyoung’s face possessed and left a lingering peck upon it. Knowing him, you’d expected him to grip your waist and pull you down with him into the waters of his joyous yet yearning ways but the coal haired boy enveloped you in an enticing embrace and with his lips hovering slightly above your ear, whispered, “Tell him to get ready.”

“I swear to God, I hate basketball,” your brother exhaled out in utter annoyance, to which you furrowed your brows at.

You always shifted in your seat restlessly, your heart palpitating at an ungodly speed of McQueen, eyes sought frantically to avoid meeting your brother’s, upon the dreaded word of “basketball” ringing in your ears. It wasn’t that you abhorred it, no, not at all; you absolutely appreciated the art of dunking and the pleasing note of swish through the hoop, but just not the people you knew personally who partook in it.

There’s always a Montague and Capulet narrative happening somewhere in the universe, always, and it just so happened that you were struck with the curse by some godforsaken entity of destiny of landing a role in your life as the fresh faced, ever so naive, youngest member of the Capulets–Juliet. And you dreaded the direction your supposed fairytale was headed the first time your boyfriend asked you to watch his basketball game, which oddly enough, was the same one your brother requested you to “bring all your hot friends” to.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t your brother’s undeniable libido for your friends that irked you and made you hesitate going to a basketball game, to which you’ve never thought twice about before, but it was the statement of, “God I am going to crush number 10’s ass.”

Number 10. Number fucking 10. Of course, it had to be the player that sweat through blue polyester and nylon, donning number 10 in white on the front and back. It could have been player number 13 or 17, for God’s sake it could have even been a negative number sported on the jersey, yet it all had to align in the cosmos to be player number 10.

You didn’t certainly deem ESP to be something legitimate, but on that day you swore to god your mind fucked you royally in the ass and placed you in Soonyoung’s dorm room the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing but the sight of a teenage boy’s niche, because a lot of basketball players had to have chosen the number 10 for their jersey, right?

The environment malfunctioned instantaneously with the repetition of “I am going to crush number 10’s ass” circling about a short circuit in your mind. From that moment onward, the sight of the jersey was unquestionably more radiant that it could have ever been, with the blinding, white number ten atop Soonyoung’s chair cackling obstreperously at your oh shit moment. Tuning in to your brother slander your university’s rival, Soonyoung’s school, was always such a joy (not) to participate in.

Every “basketball” here and there snagged you by the ear and dragged you to hell and back with it, provoking the cracks of your palm to drench in sweat and legs to quiver more than you had felt around Soonyoung before dating him.

“Yeah I mean it’s not like you’ve worked your entire ass off the past 4 years or so to even set foot on the college court you've been dreaming of since you were 13!” Diverting your brother’s mental debate on his love of the sport, it was a necessity to pluck something else from thin air to talk about, and not your school’s rival when they had games against each other, which was seemingly a bloodbath in their perspective.

Trying to escape your brother’s trash talk of Soonyoung’s team was walking through an eternal, pitch black, underground tunnel, no goddamn escape.

“They only got us last time because of number 10’s foolery. Jesus Christ, the kid better slow down or he’s wasting stamina. Can’t believe he holds the title of captain, like me. I motherfucking swear to God if I have to listen to his loud ass winning chant–” yadah yadah, number 10 this, number 10 that.

You would have dozed off to your brother’s lovely lullaby of scorn towards your boyfriend had it not been for a text…from your boyfriend.

[spoonyoung]

hii hiiiii heyyyy hello bby Hhhii babe i miss youuuuu hi!

[y/n]

i can tell u’re tired :( don’t be

[spoonyoung]

he's going to crush me dang flabbit

y/n

so ur nervous ??? bby it’s just a game istg,,both of you treat it like warfare

[incoming call: spoonyoung]

Shit, what the hell? This bitch, right now? In this economy, at this time?

Inside your chest was a drumline pounding, giving it their all, threatening to burst out and announce to your brother that “Hey, your rival is dating your sister! They’re probably going to fuck later but you don’t know about any of it!”

You would plummet into poignancy if you didn’t pick up his call, because there was no chance you could see him everyday, so honestly fuck that you guys attended different schools, and resorting to calling each other did bring both of you to ease, but not at this goddamn, forsaken time, with one you love phoning you with 17,000 vibrations per second, and the other idiot you were practically forced to love, perched next to you, indignantly gripping the wheel with such force you couldn’t decide which one generated more turbulence within you.

Tensely clutching what was now a scorching piece of metal, you held it up conscientiously to your ear, and forced yourself to breathe out calmly and collectively. Every single mention, tidbit and strand, bob and fragment of Soonyoung that was mentioned around you when you were with your brother grabbed your trachea in its firm hold and forced the wind out of you.

“Hey, Hoshi,” you managed to choke out in a level headed manner.

Hoshi. That was what you and Soonyoung agreed to nickname him if you ever picked up a call from him around your brother or his teammates, but god forbid you were actually allowed to have a life of any sort!

“Babe,” Soonyoung mewled out from the other line, “I actually can’t do this. Don’t tell him, but your brother is really good...of course he is.”

Frowning because of Soonyoung’s lack of usual mirth and brimming confidence, you sighed, “If you let it get to you, then your thoughts affect your actions, and you don’t want that to happen right? You’ll be fine...and I’m not just saying this to say something, but you’re really good too, and you can’t let one person bring your entire mood down...even if...you know…”

“Will you at least come with me to my dorm after the game?”

“Oh you know I’ll be doing more than that,” giggling into your phone, trying to sound as enticing as possible, completely engrossed in this very conversation, as it was all the time talking with Soonyoung.

Both of you had a habit of drastically turning your talks from upside downs to those of obvious elation. They were conversations sometimes needed to be kept in the comforting privacy, selfishly not wanting to let anyone else in on the baby i missed you’s and the do you need anything from the boba shop’s and literally you don’t have the right to look this good’s.

Startled by the grunting and hacking oh so wonderfully expired by the total jackass to your left, you contended to the third degree, with the patience that was never really there starting to thin out, “Do you need something?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Soonyoung to call coincidentally at the times you were with—more like right next to—his rival, probably because his

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Sniper and The Medic: Chapter 10

Starring: Crosshair, OC Joan Vo

Chapter Warnings: Discussions of bullying, death, injuries, and other tragic things, offset by a lil fluff at the end

Taglist: @proadhog @skippyhopperwisdom

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

A/N: Just want to quickly apologize for the 2 week delay in updating this story, but also this will be my 99th post on this blog which is kinda fitting once you read it, so I guess some things are just meant to be...

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >

Chapter 10: Good Grief

He met her at the designated place that evening, barely able to contain the mixture of excitement and dread that welled within him. On the one hand, Crosshair welcomed any opportunity to spend time with Joan, especially after she had shown interest in wanting to grow closer to him. She looked as beautiful as ever when she joined him, wearing her cute little shorts and signature smile.

But on the other hand, they were running out of time. He deployed tomorrow afternoon. How could they possibly grow closer in such a short window?

And how could he possibly say good-bye if they did? 

He led her through the set of double doors and down a long hallway, keeping his strides as relaxed as he could, despite his every nerve being on edge. She walked fairly close alongside him, but nothing too scandalous. Not that it was likely they'd be caught. This part of the facility was more-or-less abandoned, only used to house the more rarely-used supplies for the maintenance crew. Half the walls were stripped of their usual white sheen, revealing cracked plaster and dirty insulation instead. Only a few like himself knew it was a good place to go when in need of some privacy.

But there was also something here he wanted to show Joan. A way to help her understand his life as a defective clone. He wasn't sure why the idea had popped into his head earlier; he should have just suggested the simulation room again, programmed it to a nice, romantic beach or something. But it was too late to go back now.

They neared the door in question and Crosshair punched in the code. He gestured for Joan to walk in ahead of him, wanting to keep an eye on her reactions.

It was barely considered a room, more of a corridor that was meant to connect this hallway with another. A motion-sensor light flickered on as they entered. Miscellaneous boxes and crates had been pushed up against the wall on the left, dusty and unimportant. It was the righthand wall that gave this space significance. It had long been reduced to its concrete foundation, and chiseled crudely over most of its surface were names and numbers. The largest script was in the top left corner, only two symbols.

"Ninety-nine," Joan read out loud as she stood in the center of the room and looked over the wall in reverence. "This is a memorial."

Crosshair nodded. "All the clones who've died here, never stepping foot into battle. Most of them defects, like 99. Their names won't be found anywhere else. This... is their only legacy."

She nodded at him solemnly in understanding. He watched as she brushed her hands over some of the etchings, fingers tracing the lines as she read them over. There were mostly numbers, many of them not having lived long enough to find a nickname. One of his own batch-mates had been like that, only living a few short years before his defective heart had given out. 

Crosshair tore his gaze away from Joan to find his brother's number on the wall. Beneath it was the second lost brother, who had made it just a little longer. Scraps, they'd called him. He brought his hand up to rest alongside their names, frowning deeply at the memories they gave him.

He felt Joan come to stand next to him and he swallowed hard.

"He was sick all the time, but he kept trying," he explained. "He was worse off than me, and yet I was the kid who cried every night, and he'd talk me down. He'd tell me we had to keep fighting, we had to prove them all wrong. And then one day... he was gone. He'd failed some test and they just... they took him and...."

He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. Thankfully Joan didn't need him to. She laced her fingers through his and squeezed reassuringly.

"They told me I'd be next," he said, his voice getting lower. "The Kaminoans. The training Sergeants. The other cadets. With Wrecker, Hunter, it was obvious they'd be useful, their mutations were fine. But me? What was I good for? Who could look at me and know what I was capable of?"

His words hung between them for a short while before Joan gave another squeeze of his hand.

"I'm so sorry, Crosshair," she said and he knew she meant it. "You deserved better. They all did. But... I know this might not sound quite right, but without that pain, you might not have become as determined and passionate and committed and loyal as you are now."

He finally looked away from the wall and down at her, surprised that she remembered the words he'd once written for her, all those months ago. The words he believed embodied who he really was.

"You didn't let your past break you. You used it to make you stronger. You should be proud of that."

He had never been told such a thing before. He'd never been given permission to feel proud, to take ownership of his life. It made him feel... relieved. To know that all of his struggles could mean something made the burden of grief that much lighter to bear.

And to hear it coming from Joan made him feel things, too. He realized he wanted to kiss her. She was standing somewhat close, her fingers were still grasping his own. She seemed to be enough at ease, comfortable here with him, even in such a sad moment. But he panicked and looked away before he could act on such impulses. He still didn't know what she wanted, or any of the things she'd alluded to having gone through herself. It didn't feel right to make to such an intimate move yet.

"Um, we can talk about you now," he stuttered awkwardly, overly aware of how clammy his hand felt under hers. "If you want...."

She laughed a little, but it wasn't a joyful sound. "I'm afraid my story's not any happier."

"Oh."

She cocked her head a little and reached up with her free hand to lightly touch the tattoo around his eye. "Didn't get a chance to tell you before, but I really like this. It's perfect."

He smirked but kept his eyes carefully fixed on hers, waiting. She seemed to be deciding what she wanted to say.

"Not sure if you've seen my own." She tried to sound playful, letting go of his hand in order to turn slightly and show off the splattering of tattooed birds around the thick scar on her thigh. "It's... kind of a memorial, too."

Joan looked toward the wall and took in a measured breath. "When the war started, my family did what we could to help. But then comes the Republic with its grand, shiny new army, and they tell us they've got it from here. Go home. My parents listened... I didn't. I couldn't. No, I marched up to the first battalion I could find and I told them I'd be helping them whether they liked it or not. They were the 116th, led by Commander Crowe."

She held a small smile on her face, fondness peeking through the sorrow like rays of sunlight into a curtained room.

"Your brothers," said Crosshair knowingly.

"Mmhmm.... They were so good to me. They taught me everything I know. We went through so much together. And then one day..." she looked over at Crosshair apologetically as she borrowed his previous words to tell her own story, "my speeder exploded, messed up my leg really bad. I did everything I could to try and fix it myself, but we were short on supplies and it just wasn't getting any better. Crowe insisted I go to Coruscant for treatment. I didn't want to, I hadn't been apart from them in years, but there was no choice."

And then the curtains were snapped shut and all that was left on Joan's face was sorrow. Sorrow and darkness.

"They died while I was recovering. All of them. A single missile to their ship somewhere in deep space. And that was it. No more 116th battalion. No more family."

Instinctually, Crosshair reached for Joan's hand as she had done for him. She seemed surprised, breaking out of her haze and looking at his hand like it was the only thing grounding her.

"I should have died with them," she said in a hoarse voice. "At least, that's what I told myself for seven months. Until Cody came. He'd been good friends with Crowe, knew all about me. He told me to get over myself. That I was still alive for a reason and that I did nothing to honor their memories by letting myself waste away. And then he offered me a job, said I could help some of his other brothers, the way I'd done for the 116th."

Slowly her sadness was fading and Crosshair was grateful. It was easier to hold on to his own pain and learn to live with it, but seeing the same feelings in Joan had scared him. He didn't know what to do to help her. As she wrapped up her story, though, he began to realize that he already had.

"He said it was an experimental unit and that none of you would look like, well, the regular clones, so maybe it'd be easier for me to get back into it. And it was. I knew I loved all of you boys from the first day. You were all confident and eager. None of the battle-worn spirits I was used to dealing with. You gave me life again. Helped me rediscover my purpose. My passion."

She took a step closer to him, holding his hand back firmly.

"You were the tough one," she smirked. "You're so calm and relaxed, so sure of yourself. Any time I felt anxious or like I wasn't making a difference, I knew I could count on you to put me at ease. Even when you were a little sassy."

She giggled, but Crosshair's mind was reeling. She thought he was the assured one? This whole time she'd been seeing him the same way he saw her?

"And then, you know, you stood me up that one day," she sighed dramatically and then it was his stomach that started doing flips as the regret from his actions returned. "Which happened to be the, uh, anniversary of their passing.... And I didn't think I'd be able to do anything that day, except that I knew you'd be coming by, and so I actually got out of bed and did some chores and saw other patients.... And I was trying to think of ways I could keep you for longer than just a consult on your injury. I was going to have you teach me darts and maybe help me sneak some good snacks from somewhere or ask to get a tour of your new ship...."

She was looking up at him with bright eyes and the thought of kissing her returned. She was definitely close enough now, and as he made eye contact, she couldn't seem to remember what she was going to say next, her voice trailing off into short little breaths.

"I really am sorry," he said, stalling for time. He wasn't sure why he kept hesitating when it was something he wanted so desperately. So much for her thinking he was confident.

"I know," she said softly. Was she leaning closer or was he?

"I... I'm leaving tomorrow," he said.

"I know." Both of their hands were clasped in each other's now, pulses beating rapidly beneath hopeful grips.

"And," he kept going, even though the space between them was continuing to grow smaller, "I've never done this before."

"I know." She grinned, and that undid him.

Whatever self-conscious walls he'd put up for whatever irrational reasons came crumbling down as he finally closed the gap and pressed his lips against hers.

[wtfevenismypage]

Observer not Profiler END

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: You’re similar to a profiler, but you can tell almost anything about a person just from a single glance. What they had for dinner, if they took a bath or shower, their name, favorite color, if they lie, even if they’re good in bed. You’ve been running from the government ever since you got caught hacking into their systems and since then you have been diagnosed with Extreme anxiety, anxious tics, and paranoia. But now the BAU need you’re help in Identifying killers.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of therapy, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, paranoia, anxious tics

A/N: This is the final chapter loves!

Even a year later you had to deal with anxiety, anxious tics, paranoia, and your past, but Spencer was by your side the whole time. He helped you to accept your anxiety, and he came with you to every therapy session you had, waiting in a separate room while you spoke with a young woman.

You constantly worried about Spencer leaving you for all of your mood swings, but he constantly reassured you that he could never. He truly loved you. 

And as he promised to you, he was taking things slowly, making sure everything he did was okay. Because some days, you couldn’t stand being touched or coddled, the feeling was suffocating, other days, you needed him to be holding you every hour of the day.

You don’t know what you did to deserve him, or anyone on the team. They were so patient with you.

“Y/L/N. My office please?”

You looked to Hotch, who stepped into his office again. Turning to Morgan, who you were just joking around with, you both shrugged. But you went to his office nonetheless, preparing to be told off for drinking all of the coffee.

“If this is about the coffee, it wasn’t me.”

You stopped speaking at the sight of two young women, they had to be your age.

Y/BF/N and Hope.

“Oh my god guys!”

You laughed in excitement, bum-rushing them in a hug, which they gladly returned. You swayed in the hug, feeling their giddiness seep into your skin.

“Oh my god you guys! What are you two doing here? I thought I would never see you again!”

They had tears streaming down their faces, you did too. Hotch quickly explained that he remembered they had never held up their end of the deal when you joined, so he had Penelope search endlessly for your friends. He left the office, letting you be alone with your friends.

“So we’re really sorry for putting you on the run like that, we didn’t mean to!”

You burst out in laughter, waving your hands around furiously.

“No no no, it’s fine guys. I don’t blame you at all!”

The three of you continued to catch up with each other. Apparently they hadn’t seen each other in two years. They had gone through a lot of interviews with the government to try and find out where you were, but they said nothing. 

Later in the evening, you were back at your apartment with Spencer, cuddling on the couch while Dr. Who re-runs play on the T.V. Your apartment was much more personalized now. You had your walls painted a light blue grey color, pictures and plants on the walls, cluttered counters as well.

“I’m glad I got to see them again, They really haven’t changed much.”

You smile against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Oh yeah? What did you talk about?”

“You mainly. I told them all about how you make me feel. They said we should just start planning a wedding already. I told them that I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And that’s when Spencer knew he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. That same week he made several phone calls to a few people, Mainly Hotch and Rossi.

And about a month later, you were having another very rough day. You wanted nothing more than to be in Spencer’s arms at home, but you had so many files to take care of.

You finish up another file before standing and walking to the coffee table, where Spencer and Hotch were speaking. They quickly stiffen up as you walk over, Spencer wraps his arms around your waist and sets a careful kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Hey baby, want me to make you some coffee?”

You nod at his offer, letting him go and sparking a random conversation with Hotch about Jack. You loved the idea of having kids, and you’ve actually babysat Jack and Henrey a lot. They were both really funny and adorable. They kind of made you want some of your own.

Spencer handed you the coffee cup which you sipped on gratefully, leaning your head on his chest. 

But mid-sip, Spencer just flips your entire day around.

He holds a shiny diamond ring in front of you, before speaking in a low voice.

“Will you marry me?”

-

-

-

-

-

Which led to you sitting behind your eldest son, brushing through his knotted curly hair. You had to reach forward a bit, it’s hard to reach over your pregnant belly.

“Mama, is papa making dinner?”

You smile at the young 5 year old.

“Yes, he should be done by the time I finish your hair, but he does also have the twins to deal with so the house might burn down.”

The small boy with curly wavy hair gasps as you laugh. You lift him up, carrying him down the stair to see Spencer holding both the twins while struggling to cook.

“Spence, you should have told me the twins were up!”

You set your oldest son in front of his toys, quickly taking the tiny babies from Spencer’s tired arms. He had a sweaty smile on his face as he continued to stir the Miso soup.

“You know, as soon as this baby comes, we’re gonna be working overtime.”

“Just get Morgan over here, force him to take care of them and tell him he owes us for something.”

You laughed at his joking tone, cradling the babies in your lap before setting them in their cribs before going out to the porch to set the table. The air was crisp and chilly, nipping at your skin.

Spencer came out with your son, sitting him in his seat and putting a spoon in his small bowl of soup.

You loved this moment, your twins were safe and sound in their cribs, your son eating a piece of tofu, a little girl on her way, and the love of your life, Dr. Spencer Reid smiling a smile that could light up the world, right next to your side ready to fight it all.

“I love you.”

You spoke, not towards anyone in particular, just generally.

You finally felt safe. You could finally live without looking over your shoulder.

end

@imsuperawkward @ithinkilovetruecrimetoomuch @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @hopebaker​ @thatsonezesty13​ @nightlygiggless​ @aberrant-annie​ @holybatflapexpert​ @spencerreidisbootiful​ @april-14-blog​ @jackryan-plz @kalebtheo​ @ajwantsapancake​ @lightswriting​ @emilouu​ @yourmisosoup​ @lizziebritish​ @101donuts​ @rainsong01​ @pretty-boy-genius​ @squirrellover1967​ @gublerstyles​ @delievia​ @boxofsparklingmuses​ @annestine​ @baby-i-am-fireproof​ @allthedumbassfandoms @irjuejjsaa @zhangyixingxing1​ @madcrazy50​ @maryhuffxoxo​ @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad​ @officialbogbody​ @m3lly-x​ @dark-night-sky-99​ @eu-solidao @thupidalethea​ @bad-idea-personified​ @random-thoughts-003​ @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal​ @boiled-onionrings​ @polywitcheyes​ @bxbyspxncer​ @snitchthewitch​ @yoruebeautiful​ @blablasomethingblabla​ @zhangyixingxing1​ @etherealgubler​ @valkyrie-5583​ @peaxhyjaes​

A/N: That’s the end! My new series Sinfully Sweet will be out soon, so if you would like to be added to the taglist just let me know! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[rpf-bat]

To Join The Black Parade

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 11. Prompt: “Death Parade”.

You receive an unexpected phone call, from your old friend Gerard. He asks you if you’d like to play a role, in the upcoming music video, for ‘Welcome To The Black Parade’. But, when he sees you on set, something comes over him, that neither of you ever expected. 

You sat in the studio, in front of a blank canvas. You glanced up at the diploma, hanging in on the wall, in the corner. It was proof that you had graduated from SVA, with a Bachelor of Fine Arts. But, despite being certifiably good at art (on paper), you still felt like an impostor, on days like this, when you had no inspiration at all. 

Your brush hovered over the empty white space, when, suddenly, you were interrupted, by the sound of the phone ringing. As soon as you saw who was calling, your expression brightened. 

“Hi, Y/N,” greeted the familiar voice of Gerard Way. Simply hearing your old friend speak, was enough to make your spirits, instantly lift. 

“Hi, Gee,” you smiled, moving the phone closer to your ear. “How have you been?”

Even though you talked on the phone all the time, you hadn’t seen him in person, since last summer. He had briefly returned to New Jersey, to play a Warped Tour gig. You’d hung out with him afterwards, backstage. It had been so fun - and yet, so fleeting. 

“I’ve been good,” Gerard replied jovially. “I’m sorry for calling you so early, though.” 

“It’s not early,” you chuckled. “It’s like, eleven o’clock.”

“Well, here, it’s only eight,” Gerard reminded you. 

The East Coast was no longer his home base. He had moved to Los Angeles, a few years ago, when his band started to take off. This put him in the Pacific time zone, three hours behind you. 

“How’s California treating you?” you asked. “Still staying in that weird haunted house?”

“Nah, we’re done recording the album now,” Gerard updated you. “We’re actually getting ready to film the music video, that’s gonna go with the lead single.”

“Oh, cool!” you said, interested. “What’s the single’s title?”

“It’s called ‘Welcome To The Black Parade’,” Gerard revealed cryptically. 

“What’s the Black Parade?” you asked curiously. 

“I have this concept for the video - well, for the whole album, really,” Gerard explained. “This guy is like, dying of cancer, and Death comes for him, in the form of his favorite childhood memory.” 

“The memory is….a parade?” you guessed.

“That’s right!”, Gerard confirmed. “I kind of based it off, like, when my dad would take me and Mikey into the city, at Thanksgiving time, to see the Macy’s parade.” 

“Oh, of course,” you nodded. As a fellow New Jersey native, only a ferry-ride away from the Big Apple, you had grown up going to the parade every autumn, too. 

“So, this whole, like, procession of marchers, is gonna welcome The Patient into the afterlife,” Gerard went on. 

“That sounds amazing,” you said honestly. “I can’t wait to see the video, when it’s finished.”

“That’s actually what I was calling you about,” Gerard confessed slyly. “We’re gonna have a lot of extras in this video shoot. Like I said, a whole parade of people. I was wondering, if you might want to be in it?”

“You want me to be in the music video?”, you repeated, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Gerard grinned. “I just thought, it would be really nice, to see you again, and have you be a part of this whole art project with me.”

Art project. That was one way to describe it. Gerard was a big Hollywood star now, with fans all over the globe. But, he still talked about the album his band was working on, in the same way, that he used to talk to you about the comics he wanted to write. Deep down, he was still the same storyteller that you used to see in class every day.

“Gerard, I would love to,” you accepted the offer, immediately. “I’ve missed you. It’s going to be so great, to hang out again.” 

“I can’t wait,” Gerard said happily. “Don’t even worry about the airfare, I can get the label to fly you out.” 

“Thank you,” you said giddily. You couldn’t wait to see your old friend again.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The flight to Los Angeles was long, but uneventful, and the day of the video shoot, arrived before you knew it. You gasped, when you walked in, and saw the set. There was a huge parade float, surrounded by a desolate, gray landscape. You wondered how long it had taken the set designers to put it together. You felt nervous, as you watched the other extras milling about, most of them already in costume. 

They’re real actors, you thought anxiously. I’m just some random person. 

Your nerves eased, as soon as you heard a voice behind you. 

“Y/N, you made it!” Gerard said delightedly. You turned to face him. 

“Whoa!” you gasped. “Your hair!” 

“I know, it’s a big change,” Gerard laughed, running his hand through his short-cropped, bleach-blonde locks. Last time you had seen him, his hair had been dark, and down to his shoulders. 

“What do you think?” he asked, seemingly a little self-conscious. 

“It’s very different,” you said honestly, “But, I like it. A new look, to signify a new era!” 

“Exactly,” Gerard nodded. “See, I knew you would get it….I gotta tell the guys you’re here. They’re gonna be psyched, to see you again.” 

“I’m psyched to see Mikey, and Frankie, and Toro again, too,” you grinned. They were all old friends of yours. 

“Oh, but first, I gotta introduce you to the director,” Gerard remembered. “His name’s Samuel Bayer. He’s amazing - he’s the same guy that directed the music video for ‘Bullet With Butterfly Wings’, back in the day.”

“No way!” you gasped. ‘Bullet’ was your favorite Smashing Pumpkins song. 

“I know, right?” Gerard grinned. “And just last year, he did some really cool videos with Green Day, like ‘American Idiot’. I’m so happy that we were able to get him to work with us, on this video. I think it’s going to be amazing.” 

“You’re such a flatterer, Gerard,” said a dark-haired man, walking over to you. “Hi, I’m Samuel.” 

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself, shaking the director’s hand. 

“I heard you’re an SVA grad, too, right?” Samuel smiled.

“Yeah, Gerard and I both graduated in ‘99,” you nodded. “You went, there, too?”

“Yeah, I was in the class of ‘87,” Samuel explained. 

“Wow...small world.” 

“For sure,” Samuel laughed. “Anyway, Y/N, are you ready to get changed into your costume?”

“What am I going to wear?” you wondered. 

“Oh, you’re going to love it,” Gerard gushed. “We had Colleen Atwood design all the costumes for us. She’s incredible.”

“She’s the same lady, who designed the costumes for Edward Scissorhands,” Samuel added informatively.

“Whoa,” you gaped. This really was an all-star film crew. Did you really belong here? 

“Here’s your outfit,” Samuel smiled, handing you in the garment bag. “Go ahead and get changed, we’ll meet you back here in five.” 

“O-okay,” you gulped, suddenly unsure, if you could pull the role off - no matter how small it was. 

“Don’t worry,” Gerard assured you. “I know you better than anyone, Y/N. I’m sure you’ll do great.” 

“Thanks,” you said softly, calmed by his words. 

“I have to go fake-sing for the camera,” Gerard chuckled. “I’ll see you soon.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You took the garment bag into the bathroom, unzipping it, to reveal the costume inside. 

The jacket, you noticed, was black, with a marching band style collar - pretty similar to what Gerard was wearing, when you walked in. The only difference was that yours was sleeveless. Instead of pants, your jacket was paired with a black skirt. 

You hesitantly changed into the outfit. You flushed, when you looked at yourself in the mirror. The skirt was short - almost too short. 

You didn’t wear things like this very often. You constantly got paint on your clothes, so you never wanted to wear anything too fancy. It would just get ruined. Most of the time, you could be found in oversized sweaters, and ratty jeans. 

I can’t refuse to wear it, though, you told yourself. Even if it feels kind of uncomfortable….Gerard spent a lot of time and money to bring me out here. The least I can do, is play my role, without complaining. 

You walked back onto the set, your legs feeling cold and exposed. Gerard and the band had just wrapped a scene on the float, miming playing their instruments. 

“Cut!” Samuel called. “Okay, I think that was a good take!” 

Done with his part, Gerard strolled back over to you.

“.....Wow,” he gaped when he laid eyes on you, his eyes widening. 

“Wow, what?” you blinked, feeling self-conscious. 

“Wow, you look amazing,” Gerard said, blushing. “I...I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear something like this before.” 

“Oh, you think it suits me?” you asked hesitantly. You hadn’t expected this reaction. 

“Absolutely,” Gerard complimented. “Have you been...working out?”

“Oh, you mean, my legs?” you realized, blushing. “Yeah, I’ve been jogging a lot…” 

He stared at your uncovered thighs, making your cheeks turn hot. 

“Ah, there’s my Fear!” Samuel smiled, walking over to you. 

“Fear?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes, you’ll be playing the role of Fear,” Samuel explained, “and this young lady here, will be playing Regret.”

He indicated a petite actress, whose costume was identical to yours. “Regret” gave you a friendly wave. 

“As soon as you’re done in the makeup chair, you ladies can do your scene with Lukas,” Samuel directed. 

“Who’s Lukas?” you asked. 

“Lukas Haas is playing The Patient,” Gerard explained. “He’s a great actor.”

“Oh, our main character,” you nodded. “Ok, I guess I better head over there!”

You were surprised, how Gerard’s eyes seemed to follow you, as you walked away. It was almost as if he didn’t want you to leave his side. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“Ok, we’re going to start moving the parade float forward!” Samuel announced. “Processioners, I need you to start walking forward, beside it, okay?” 

You stood in line, and at his signal, you and the rest of the ‘parade’ began to march forward, towards the camera. You tried not to glance up too obviously at Gerard, who was standing on top of the float, beside you. The guys were up there with him, in matching marching band jackets. You had to admit, it was a striking look.

Lukas stumbled towards the front of the parade, wearing his hospital gown and slippers. He looked confused, and sad - a befitting expression, for a character, who was supposed to be newly deceased. 

“Ok, cut!” Samuel called out. “Gerard, you’re going to lean over the side of the float, and put the medal on Lukas, okay?”

“Ok,” Gerard nodded, dangling a military-ish cross on a chain. “Like this?” 

“Perfect,” Samuel praised. “Now, I need my Fear and Regret, to come stand on either side of Lukas, okay?”

“R-Right,” you stammered, moving to the spot on Lukas’ right that Samuel was pointing at. 

“Now, Fear and Regret are going to kiss The Patient on the cheek,” Samuel explained. 

“They’re what?” Gerard frowned, his expression turning suddenly sour. 

“It’s in the script,” Samuel reminded him. 

“Just on the cheek?” you clarified. 

“Yeah,” Regret confirmed. “You do one, and I’ll lean in, and do the other, at the same time.”

“Oh, okay,” you shrugged. “I can do that.” 

Sure, it felt a little awkward, since you’d just met Lukas twenty minutes ago. But, at least it wasn’t on the mouth, or anything. 

Samuel signaled for the camera man to start filming again, and you leaned over, in sync with Regret, and planted a peck on the actor’s face.

“Cut!” Samuel shouted. “Ladies, I’m sorry, I need you to do that again.”

“Why?!” Gerard demanded. “I thought that take was fine.”

“Because you were making a face in the background,” Samuel groaned.

“N-No I wasn’t!” Gerard denied, blushing. 

“You were,” Samuel insisted. “You’re supposed to have a neutral expression, and be looking at the camera. But, you were looking down at them instead.” 

“You were pouting, dude,” Frank teased. “Come on, let’s try it again.” 

You repeated the take, leaning over, and kissing Lukas’ cheek again. 

“Cut!” Samuel called again, looking frustrated. “Gerard, the rest of the band was looking at the camera just fine. You’re still staring downwards, with that surly expression.”

“I’m not surly,” Geraed argued. “I was making a totally normal face.”

“No, he’s right,” Mikey shook his head. “You weren’t looking, where you were supposed to look at all.” 

“Let’s give it one more try,” Gerard sighed. “I promise, I’ll get it right this time.” 

I hope so, you thought with a frown. How many times, am I going to have to put my lips on this guy’s face today?

“You know what,” Samuel shrugged, “why don’t we just take a break for lunch, and try again in thirty?”

This was fine with you - you were already bored, with the repetition. You wished you knew what was throwing Gerard off. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You found Gerard by the craft services table, listlessly eating a handful of Cheetos.

“Are you okay?” you asked him softly, as you filled your own plate with snacks. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Gerard insisted. “Don’t worry about me.”

“What is it that you’re having trouble with?” you wondered. “I mean, all you’re doing in that scene, is standing still up there, right?”

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be this hard,” Gerard frowned. “I don’t know….something about watching you plant one on Lukas, is just getting on my nerves.” 

“Why’s that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I….I don’t know,” Gerard blushed. “I just don’t want you touching him, for some reason.” 

“You’re the one, who called me, and asked me to play this specific role,” you reminded him. 

“I know I did,” Gerard acknowledged. “I just….I didn’t think it would bother me this much.”

“Why does it bother you?” you asked. “Like, what is it that goes through your head, when you see me do that?” 

“I guess I feel…..jealous,” Gerard admitted shyly, dropping his voice, so only you would hear. 

“.....Jealous?” you repeated, heart pounding. What was he saying?

Gerard’s whole face turned red, and he stared downwards, suddenly very interested in his shoes.

“....Gee,” you whispered, touching his arm. “Look at me...are you telling me, that you wish, I was kissing your cheek, instead?” 

You two had been friends for almost a decade now, but he had never made a move on you, or given you any indication that he desired anything more, than a platonic relationship. But….the truth was, you’d always found him incredibly handsome.

Gerard’s hazel eyes glanced up, hesitantly meeting yours. 

“As soon as I saw you walk out here, in that skirt,” Gerard confessed, his voice soft and husky, “I wanted to kiss you, on far more, than just your cheeks.” 

“....You want to kiss me on the mouth?” you realized, your face and body going suddenly so hot.

“God help me, I do,” Gerard breathed. 

“.....Do it,” you said breathlessly. Secretly, you’d wanted this, for years. 

“But, there’s people all around us!” Gerard said shyly. 

You looked up, and saw that he was right. Actors and actresses were starting to form a line around the table, eager to grab food to snack on. 

“.....Come with me,” you said impulsively, and dragged him by the arm, into the powder room, where you’d gotten changed earlier. 

“Y-Y/N, what are you doing?” Gerard stammered. “This is the girls’ room…..I’m not supposed to be in here….I don’t want to get caught….” 

“Then be real quiet, then,” you shushed him, and pulled him in for a searing kiss. 

His shyness seemed to melt away, as his lips crashed into yours. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tighter, as the kiss deepened. 

“....Gee!” you gasped, coming up for air. You never saw this coming from him. 

“Y/N, I want to make you mine,” Gerard panted, eager to taste your lips again. “Mine, and mine alone.” 

You kissed him again. Your hands twisted into his newly short hair. You’d wanted this forever, but you never expected it to actually happen. He tasted so sweet, and his touch was so startlingly possessive. 

“Honey,” you purred, grabbing him by his jacket collar, “I’m already yours.”

[nickkkdoesstuff]

general 24 w/ lewvithur maybe? :0c

Prompt list.

“I haven’t seen (her/him/them) smile in months.”

I’m not really used to write about lewvithur (or ot3 in general) and I apologize if this is a little odd or off character <: i’m trying 

Summary: None of them had genuinely smiled since their lives had torn apart. Arthur finds his old keyboard and plays an awful familiar song.

Song: “Slow Dance” by Saint Motel

Vivi licked the melted marshmallow off her fingers with as much enthusiasm she had. Definitely the idea of taking her boyfriends out in the woods for a nice little evening soiree, technically they were on a mission hunting down a werewolf but it wouldn’t hurt if they stopped for a second, and the night above them was lovely- 

The blue leader couldn’t avoid the dark sky filled with stars and lights of distant cities, she had told them to rest for a while, they all deserved it anyway. Arthur had brought the idea of building a fire when the sun started to set behind them and Lewis suggested s'mores because “it wasn’t a real campfire if it didn’t had s’mores”, the ghost couldn’t eat anymore but who were they to deny such a delicacy. 

So there they were, their faces red because of the heat and a little sweaty too. The van’s radio had gone off a few minutes ago and they had run out of conversation topics. The three of them sat on a fallen log, pressed together like a human sandwich one next to another, a little awkward if you asked, but way more comfortable than try to get a real conversation out of anyone. 

Vivi sighed tired. “Looks like we ran out of cookies.” she stood up. “I’m going to see if there are some more in the van.”

Arthur nodded and Lewis just didn’t mind at all.

She jumped on the back of their van, a lamp on her mouth to leave free her hands. She brushed with her eyes the tall, metallic shelves that held many of her supernatural artifacts that she assured held properties and could be handy on one of their jobs, she had never used them, true, but you never knew when a spirit could strike, so she kept them to collect dust on tagged cardboard boxes like forgotten items, one of those boxes should have the food supplies, she was sure, but after Lewis died, nobody had reorganized the shelves, and nor she or Arthur cared enough to do it, so now the “food supplies” were strange books Vivi didn’t remember collecting and a few shiny rocks Arthur probably picked up during their trips.

The blue haired girl emptied all the van and couldn’t find those damned cookies- she had looked everywhere except for the higher level of the shelves, “They must be there”, she thought. “I swear for the love of fuck, Arthur, that if you ate them I’m starting a war”.

She picked the box but it slipped out of her hands and landed on top of her hair. 

“Ow” she patted herself. Many other things fell along with her, Lewis wasn’t going to be happy with the mess she made. The girl kicked some stuff out of her way until a strange one came across her path, she didn’t recall having that one when 99% of the stuff stocked there was hers. It was a black square bag, it was dusty and a little heavy but the lazo on one of its sides made it easier to carry around. 

“Arthur, sweety,” she called, popping her head out of the van. “what 's this?”

Half asleep Arthur turned to her. “Oh.” 

He moved to inspect the bag and put it on the floor, his slim hands slid open the zipper to reveal an old keyboard piano.

“I have been looking for this for ages!” Arthur kneel before it and ran his fingers through the white and black tiles. “I haven’t pla- played this since- since… well…”

The hurt look on his eyes said it all. The boy turned it on, wondering if it still worked after a year of abandonment. To his surprise, it did, the screen came back to life and lights shone brighter than before. A small smile crept upon his lips, shy as himself. 

“C’mon, Artie.” Vivi hurried to sit down next to the ghost, right in front of Arthur like they were a crowd. “Delight us, please.”

Arthur looked at her hesitantly, and then to the keyboard, unsure if he even knew how to play it anymore. “I don’t- I don’t know, Vi, it’s been a- a while…”

“Pweaseeeee.” Vivi wore puppy eyes. Oh no, please don’t, he thought, not the eyes.

“Fi- fineeee. I guess I can play something.”

The blond man ran through his memories, he should remember how to play any song, literally any song was good…

“This is one that everyone knows.” And then he played the first chord.

“I'm waitin' for that slow dance.”

Vivi gasped.

“So I can feel your arms around me.”

Oh, she definitely knew that song.

“Wait ‘till the music turns to romance.”

Arthur laughed a little at his girlfriend’s reaction.

“Go tell that Dj that he owes me.”

With a hand on her hip, she stood up, smiling brighter than she had ever done it. Vivi fixed her messy blue hair, tied her scarf tighter and tucked under her skirt her oversized sweater. Offering a hand to the ghost, she invited him to dance. A funny expression broke the specter’s skull and took her hand in acceptance. They pretended the dirt under their feet was a fancy dance floor and the moon a disco ball.

“Well, they don’t know that much about it.”

They began to move around to the beat of the song. 

“Been waiting every single day.”

Vivi spinned around, holding her boy’s hand as he catched up with her.

“I could be your best friend, I could be your centerpiece, I could be your soulmate, I could be your everything.”

She planted a kiss on his forehead.

“Thunderbolts and lighting queuing up the symphony.”

He carried her bridal style and leaned her to the floor, taking a laugher out of her.

“You know I’m waiting for that slow dance.”

Vivi escaped from his grip with a jump and rolled a little on the dirt.

“So I can feel your arms around me. Wait ‘till the music turns to romance. Go tell that Dj that he owes me.”

They both danced a silly dance, no longer making sense.

“Hand on my back, panic attack. Pull it together, don't overreact! Keepin' her close, don't step on her toes. Leave enough room for the holy ghost.” 

Now Mystery had joined them.

“Romance”

Arthur grinned at the sight. 

“Too slow but this is how you showed me.”

For a moment, Arthur was no longer in the woods but the Kingsmen’s mechanics garage. He was a small boy once again.

“We could talk for forty hours.”

He was sitting outside, watching the sunset over the mountains, time didn’t matter, he was simply staring at the beautiful magentas and lilacs the sky had painted. 

“We’d end up right back at the start.” 

It reminded him of Vivi and Lewis, and he couldn’t take his eyes away from it. He thought it was beautiful. It was the night of the prom, he knew he should be sunking his problems on punch and dancing cheesy songs with his friends, but nobody had asked him out, Lewis and Vivi should be there, enjoying their night.

“I could be your best friend, I could be your centerpiece, I could be your soulmate, I could be your everything.”

They made a nice couple after all. 

“Thunderbolts and lighting queuing up the symphony.”

He was lost on himself until both of them showed up with bright smiles at him and asked him out.

Arthur had never been so glad to say yes.

“You know I’m waiting for that slow dance.”

Suddenly, without a warning, a cold hand pulled him. It was Vivi.

“So I can feel your arms around me.”

“Oh, no no no no, I’m- I’m not a good dancer.”

“Wait ‘till the music turns to romance.”

His girlfriend laughed. “Who cares?”

“Go tell that Dj that he owes me.”

She gently took both of his hands -flesh and metallic- and dragged him along with her where Lewis awaited.

“Vivi- wait, no-!”

“There’s no doubt about it.”

She kissed his cheek to make him shut up, it worked indeed. Flustered, Arthur surrendered.

“It’s something magical.”

She never lost her grip on his hands, and, as if they were little kids, Vivi spun around slowly.

“Feeling our surroundings.”

The world around him moved fast, the couple stayed still, or that was what Arthur felt when  he could only stare at her beautiful blue gaze.

“And time is slowing down for us.”

Arthur sank in the moment. Looking at her toothy smile directed at him, Arthur welcomed that warm gesture in his heart and let the feeling of being all right washed over him.

Vivi slowed down and when they weren’t that nauseous she quickly grabbed him in a suffocating but nice and fitting hug, right when he was about to return it, he was pushed towards a black suit.

“You know I’m waiting for that slow dance.”

“¿Me concedes esta pieza?” Lewis said in fluent spanish, Arthur looked up to meet not a terrifying skull but a human face with a gentle smile on him.

“So I can feel your arms around me.”

“Huh?” Arthur didn’t even pay attention when Lewis talked with that accent. 

“Wait ‘till the music turns to romance.”

“Would you grant me this piece?” He laughed and Arthur just limited himself to nod as his blush warmed all his face.

“Go tell that Dj that he owes me.”

A hand went to his back and another one lifted his robotic arm, the blond boy followed him, taken back a little, was he really dancing with Lewis-?

It didn’t feel real, but he loved it.

“Hand on my back, panic attack.”

Arthur rested his head on his boyfriend’s big chest just like a pillow. 

“Pull it together, don’t over react!”

How long had it been since he had been this happy?

“Keepin’ her close, don’t step on her toes.”

He hadn’t seen any of them smile, a true smile, one that didn’t lie.

“Leave enough room for the holy ghost.”

A smile that could warm your soul for decades.

“Romance.”

No, he hadn’t seen one.

“Too slow but this is how you showed me.”

The music ended and Lewis didn’t pull away his boyfriend, instead he kept him close and placed his lips on top of his tall hair. Vivi came to finish the hug, her short arms doing their best to hold them together until she was tucked under both of her boys. 

No, Arthur hadn’t seen them smile in months.

He opened his eyes to snitch on them, beautiful smiles decorated the moment, he couldn’t help but think that things were going to be alright.

[axwalker]

Tears in Heaven 10: Endings

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

Pairings:  Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings:  NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog.

Mention of child death, mention of depression, grieving

N*FW content!

A/N:  There will be a small epilogue next week, but this is the official ENDING.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thank you so much to all the people that read it, shared it and commented it. Every single like, reblog or comment gave me life! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@mskaneko​ Thank you for all your amazing insights when you read and your incredibly inspiring edits and mood boards. You’re one of a kind!

@pedudley​ Thank you for pre-reading every chapter and being such a great, supportive friend. Your feedback meant a lot/

@burnsoslow​ The MVP of this whole thing!!  I was so stuck before your brilliant book idea!! Thank you for that and for the hours and hours (and hours) of editing!! Without you I would’ve never been able to write this fic. You’re an amazing friend and human being. THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR HELP.

I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH ❤️

To catch up: Masterlist

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry. The edit at the end of this fic belongs to the talented @mskaneko​

Word count: 7 697 (!!!)

Songs inspiration: Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton

Tagging: @ao719​  @yukinagato2012​ @texaskitten30​ @kingliam2019​ @cordonia-gothqueen​ @bebepac​ @nomadics-stuff​ @cordonianroyalty​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @bascmve01​ @gibbles82​ @mom2000aggie​ @gardeningourmet​

Perma: @burnsoslow​ @mskaneko​ @mskaneko​ @pedudley​ @pug-bitch​ @ac27dj​ @twinkle-320​ @kimmiedoo5​  @marshmallowsandfire​  @loveellamae​ @debramcg1106​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​  @ravenpuff02​ @princessleac1​ @ritachacha​ @drake-colt-lover-99​

Liam woke up feeling restless. He rolled over in bed, trying to get a few minutes of sleep, but guessed it would be useless. Before taking a long hot shower, Liam called the kitchens so they’d bring him a large jug of strong coffee with his breakfast - he would need it to get through the day. Thirty minutes later, he was sitting on the balcony of his room at Valtoria, sipping his second cup of coffee of the morning and thinking about his fiancée. More than the conversation he had had with Alexis two days prior, it was the one he and his brother had shared the previous afternoon that he was obsessing over.

Since he had met her, he had been head over heels for Alexis. However, even if his love for her was undeniable, the real question was if they were right for each other. Reluctantly, Liam had to admit that he barely recognized himself in the jealous, controlling, manipulative man he had become. And as tempted as he was to blame Drake and his return for the demise of their relationship, deep down, he knew something else was profoundly wrong with them.

Leo was right: He didn’t trust Alexis. Liam wanted to, desperately, but he just couldn’t. The memory of the day he had found her almost dead on her bed still haunted him. Liam had never really gotten over it.

Alexis entered their room and saw Liam sitting with his paper and sipping coffee, lost in his thoughts. Earlier that morning, when she had left Drake’s cabin, she had done so convinced that the only right decision was to marry Liam. However, standing there and watching him, her own words resonated in her head. Liam deserved better. And he did; he deserved better than a life with a woman that would never be able to fully love him. Neither of them would ever be happy if they went ahead with their wedding.

Alexis was scared -- terrified -- of loving Drake again, of facing her grief, but hiding behind Liam couldn’t wouldn’t, be the solution anymore.

“Hi, Li,” she said, sitting on the chair next to him.

“Love.” Liam saw her sad expression and instinctively knew what she was about to tell him.

Alexis hugged herself and took a sharp breath, trying to gather some courage. Her eyes watered as she tried to get the words out. “I’m sorry, Liam.”

Liam’s hand gripped his cup of coffee. “You’re calling off the engagement.”

“I … I wasn’t planning to do it,” she sobbed. “But the more I think about it, the more I realize I’m not good for you, Liam.”

Despite his best efforts, a cold rage overpowered him. “Do not pretend that this has nothing to do with Drake, Alexis.”

“I’m not going to lie. Drake showing up again accelerated things. But our problems have nothing to do with him. Our marriage wouldn’t have lasted. We were asking too much from each other. I would never be happy being a duchess, and I know how badly you want to be a father, Liam. It was selfish of me to ask such a huge sacrifice of you.”

“I don’t care, Alexis. I would do anything for you,” Liam implored. “I know we have problems, but I’m sure that if we work together, we would be able to find a solution.”

She shook her head. “Are you happy with me, Li?”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I love you very deeply, Alexis.”

“That’s not what I asked. You’re constantly worried about me. You don’t trust me. And we never share our problems because we don’t want to burden each other. We never talk about Tom.” She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

Liam’s eyes widened. “Did you just say his name?”

She nodded.

“One day with him, and you’re already saying Tom’s name again.” His glossy eyes looked at her. “It’s always been him,” he muttered. “All this time, you didn’t stop loving Drake, did you?” he asked her.

“Liam … please don’t go there,” she begged, more tears running down her face.

“Did you ever even love me?” His voice betrayed the cool façade he was trying to maintain. Incapable of staying put, he stood up in front of the balcony’s railing.

Alexis cut the distance between them and hugged him as tightly as she could. After a moment, she took his head between her hands. “I love you, Liam. And not only because you saved my life, but because you’re an amazing, loving, generous man; because of all the moments we shared together. You gave me a reason to wake up in the mornings. Thanks to you, I was able to smile, to live again. I’ll never forget that.”

“Right ... you’ve always loved me, but you never fell in love with me,” Liam replied bitterly.

At that moment, watching Liam breaking in front of her, Alexis hated herself. “I tried Li. And it has nothing to do with you; I just never really got over … everything.”

Liam wiped a tear from her face. Too heartbroken to talk, he simply took her in his arms and kissed her head.

Alexis took off the engagement ring and placed it in his palm. “I never deserved this. And maybe you don’t believe me right now, but I know you’ll meet someone who will.”

Every word she pronounced felt like he was being stabbed. Liam turned his gaze towards the gardens. “Please leave, Alexis. There is no point in prolonging this anymore.”

Alexis squeezed his hand and left him there. As she walked away, a strong feeling of contrition flitted through her body in response to the tightness in her chest. However, despite her guilt over hurting a good man, Alexis knew she had made the right decision.

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Drake put his syringe and gloves in his bag, patted Thunder on his rump, and left the horse’s stall, rubbing his neck tiredly. After a long day doing the weekly check-ups on the horses of one of his biggest clients, he was shattered. However, working to exhaustion hadn’t worked as well as he had hoped; Alexis and her goddamn stubbornness hadn’t left his mind for a second.

When he finally got home, his heart skipped a beat when he saw Alexis sitting on the steps of his porch, waiting for him.

“Hi, Drake.”

His heart raced as it did every time he saw her. “Hi, Lexie.”

“Can we talk?” she asked, and he detected a slight edge in her voice.

“Of course, Lexie. Let’s go inside.”

Alexis shook her head no. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d preferred if we take a walk.”

“Why?” Drake questioned, puzzled.

Because if I enter the house, I won’t be able to leave it again.  “It’s better,” she stated simply.

“Okay.” Drake shoved his hands in his pockets. If she didn’t want to come into the house, that meant she was divorcing him and choosing Liam. He felt the pain of losing her all over again threaten his heart.

Drake and Alexis walked a while next to each other without a word. Inadvertently, they took the path to the lake where they used to fish and have picnics with Tom. Drake glanced over her; the look in her eyes was not sad as he had expected but determined. She was wearing the fierce expression that meant she had made a decision.

They sat in the old wooden pier next to each other. “What do you want to talk about, Lexie?”

Alexis bit her bottom lip. “I broke up with Liam.”

His eyes immediately darted to her left hand. Relieved to see that the ring was gone, Drake exhaled a lightened breath. “Lexie.” He was impatient to kiss her, to feel her again, but something about her demeanor stopped him. An awful thought snaked into his mind. “Do you want to sign the divorce papers anyway?”

Alexis placed her small hands on his large ones. “No. It’s the last thing I want.” She smiled at him.

Drake cupped her face, allowing his thumb to draw soft circles around her lips. “I don’t get it. Why are you so sad?”

“I need to ask you for something.” Drake nodded, still tenderly rubbing her face. “I’m sure that I don’t want a divorce. But I’m not ready to move back here yet.” She took a sharp breath. “I never really grieved Tom, you know? I mean, I did all the four first stages. I was furious at first and then hurt and broken at that clinic. But after my depression, I regressed. I realize now that I’ve been in denial for the past three years.”

Drake wiped her tears again and pulled her close to him.

“My therapist didn’t want me to leave the clinic. She said I wasn’t ready, but I wasn’t a danger to myself anymore, so she didn’t have any other choice but to sign my release. I need to do that now. Finish my therapy, be alone, and I’m sure you’re going to roll your eyes at this,” she joked, “but I need time to find myself. I don’t know who I am anymore, Drake. I don’t do any of the things I used to enjoy. And I feel this guilt that I can’t seem to shake. I feel guilty for the pain that I just caused Liam, but I especially feel guilty about us. About all the things I told you that day.”

“Lexie, please. You have to let that go. You weren’t yourself back then -- neither of us was,” Drake said tenderly.

“I still need to forgive myself.” She squeezed his hands. “Please don’t give up on me, Drake. I just need some time. A few months, maybe,” she pleaded with tears in her eyes.  

It hurt like hell, but he understood. Drake took her face between his hands. “Listen to me, baby, because this is very important. I love you. No matter what. No matter what I’ve done or you’ve done. No matter what will happen. I will always love you.” He interrupted himself to give her a soft kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “If I have to wait for you for the rest of my life, I will. I lost you once, but I swear I will never lose you again. Never.” She smiled through her tears. “This is what I wanted. That you chose whatever was best for you. And I think this is it. I’ll be here at the end, loving you. Okay?”

“Thank you, Drake.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he crashed his mouth with hers in a searing, hungry kiss. After a breathless moment, he forced himself to stop. It was clear that Alexis wasn’t ready for anything else. They shared a few more moments together, then Drake walked her back to her car.

She opened the door but stood next to it, torn between her longing to stay and her need to leave.

“I know you need to go through this alone, but promise me that if it’s too much, you’ll call me, Lexie. Day or night.” Drake said as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I promise.” Alexis kissed him again, trying to memorize how much she enjoyed his lips on hers, the way he had to kiss her with all his body. Drake held her as close as he could; if he had his way, he would never let her go.

But Alexis was too confused, too rattled by everything that had happened. She needed to claim her independence and regain control of her life before coming back to him. Watching her leave broke his heart, but he knew that she was worth the waiting.

With tears in her eyes, she got in her car and drove away, hoping that she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

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The first month was arduous. Coming back to therapy and having to deal with Tom’s death proved to be as challenging as Alexis had thought, but she persisted, determined to get better. She and Drake respected their arrangement and didn’t see each other, but whenever a session became too strenuous, or she was at risk of getting depressed, she called him, and they talked for hours over the phone. Drake told her about his experiences in prison and his life in Spain, and she finally spoke about the long months she had been committed to the clinic and her suicide attempt. Each phone call left them hopeful and terribly nostalgic, but Drake never pressured her.

After two months of intense therapy, Dr. Salas, her psychologist, encouraged her to do something for herself. Alexis immediately knew what she needed. For the next four months, she rented a cottage in Portavira and moved next to the beach. It was a small cottage, but it had a porch where she could sit, watch the ocean, and write every day. During that time, Alexis cried a lot, but she also began to take long walks along the beach, hike and swim in the ocean; the calm of the secluded beach and the soothing sound of the waves had a curative power on her. Alexis missed Drake desperately, more and more with every passing day, but she knew that she needed to finish what she had started before coming back to him.

The first days in Portavira, Alexis only managed to write a few lines, but soon an idea began to form in her mind. At first, she refused it; nothing would be more painful than writing that, but Dr. Salas had suggested that it could be cathartic to explore her grief through her words. One afternoon where Alexis was feeling unusually relaxed, she sat in front of her computer with a cold glass of Chardonnay and started typing. She cried her eyes out with every word, but in the end, she felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. For the first time since her little boy had died, Alexis accepted that while the pain in her chest would never really disappear, she might be able to be happy again.  

The next morning, she called Charlie, her old boss, and sent her the manuscript.

Drake was quickly regaining his excellent reputation among the owners of Cordonian stables and racetracks. Thoughts about Lexie consumed him day and night, so he spent those six months working like crazy. In his spare time, he read, fished, or rode his horse, but he felt restless all the time. One night after talking to her, an idea crept into his mind. He already knew the perfect place, so he made an offer, and when he got it, he devoted all his free time to making it perfect.

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Liam rubbed his eyes tiredly; he had been up working for almost 20 hours straight, trying to figure out a way to bring new investors to Valtoria. He, Hana, and his team had developed a health plan that aimed to offer affordable healthcare to all the duchy’s citizens, but he needed private investors and the help of the Crown to be able to fund it.

At almost 10:00 p.m., Liam leaned against his chair. Hana dropped her pen on the desk and raked her hair with her hands. They both yawned at the same time, which made them chuckle.

“We’re too tired, Hana,” Liam said as he stood up to get a drink from the cart in his office. “Something to drink?”

“Gin, please,” Hana answered, grinning.

Liam couldn’t help but admire how pretty his assistant was. Hana was a special woman; she was smart and kind, and she cared about Valtoria almost as much as he did. He always had fun in her company.

Alexis had left him six months ago. The first two months had been hell; after being in love with her for so long, Liam had had trouble adjusting to the idea that she would never be with him. However, after some time, he realized that Alexis had made the right decision. They weren’t happy together; she had never stopped loving Drake, and he was in love with a woman who no longer existed. Besides, Liam had to admit that he felt lighter and freer without the burden of his constant concern for her. His love for Alexis wasn’t healthy or romantic; it was toxic and harmful for both of them.

Liam handed Hana her gin, smiling at her. “What would you think if I called that place where we had dinner with the French ambassador the other night? We can ask for a couple of Black Truffle Croque Monsieur and some eclairs au chocolat?” he asked playfully, his stomach groaning at the thought.

Hana’s face lit up. “That would be perfect, Liam.”

“You call the restaurant, Hana. I will go look for a bottle of Beaujolais from the cellar.” Liam left his office, grinning. He didn’t know why, but the prospect of spending an intimate moment with Hana made him happier than he had been in a long time.

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Alexis swam for almost an hour. The cold, tranquil ocean was the only place where she could calm her nerves that morning. After four months on the beach, she was going back to Cordonia that same afternoon, hopefully to stay. Charlie had arranged a public reading in a small bookstore in Cordonia to launch her book, and Alexis had invited Drake - the real reason behind her nervousness that morning. A smile formed on her lips from just the thought of him. When she had called him to invite him to the reading, she hadn’t dared to tell him that she was ready, that she couldn’t wait another minute to be with him. Mostly because she didn’t want to do it over the phone.

But also because a part of her was still scared. There was no doubt in her heart; she loved Drake more than anything. But what if they were able to be happy again and another tragedy struck them? If she had to go through the pain of losing him again, Alexis knew without the shadow of a doubt that she wouldn’t be able to recover.

In addition to all of that, there was something she needed to tell him, and Alexis wasn’t sure how Drake was going to react. She stepped out of the ocean and dried herself. When she got to the house, Alexis went to her closet, thinking about what she was going to wear. Butterflies flapped in her stomach, knowing that she was dressing for him, that if everything went well, she would be in his arms that same night — the feeling of being 19 years old all over again washed over her. After a short shower, she applied light makeup and blow-dried her hair. Before leaving the house, she looked at herself in the mirror. It didn’t matter how scared she was; fear had dominated her life for almost five years. It wouldn’t control another minute of it.

Drake turned on the engine of his jeep, his heart racing thinking about her. He had no idea what her book was about, but Alexis had talked about it with that cute voice she had when she was really thrilled about something. Drake could almost see her face if he closed her eyes: her wide, gorgeous smile and a pink blush covering her cheeks with excitement. During their conversation, she hadn’t said anything about their marriage, but Drake knew she wouldn’t have invited him if she wasn’t ready to be with him again. At least he really hoped so. Before going to the library, he made a quick stop. His project was on the right track. He prepared the last surprise for her and then left for the reading.  

The children’s bookstore that Charlie had picked was perfect. Small and cozy, it had a lounge with two large sofas and colorful cushions. Posters of Tom Sawyer’s books and figurines of the Harry Potter and Narnia universes decorated the walls. The owner had moved an antique armchair to the middle of the room, so the kids and their parents would be surrounding Alexis in a half-circle as she told her story. She was greeting the families that her agent had invited when she heard a familiar voice calling her.

“Blossom!” Maxwell ran to hug her. “I missed you so much; I have a million things to tell you!”

She hugged her best friend back. “Hi, Max! I missed you too. How’s the married life?”

“Perfection. Rashad is the best husband in the world. A total control freak, but I knew that already.”

Alexis laughed. “Anyone seems like a control freak compared to you.”

“I guess that’s true.” Max beamed, looking at her. She was wearing a beige mid-length dress with an oversized camel blazer and nude high heels. “You’re gorgeous, by the way.” Her friend gave her a knowing smile. “Drake is going to drop dead when he sees you.”

She gave her friend an anxious smile. “He isn’t here yet.”

“He’ll be here soon, Lexie. Don’t worry,” Maxwell said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Darling, everything looks fabulous.” Olivia kissed both her cheeks. “I’m so proud of you,” she said earnestly.

“Come on, Liv. Don’t make me think you’ve gone soft,” Alexis teased.

“I mean it, Alexis.”

“I know you do,” she replied, squeezing her best friend’s hands. “Thank you.”

Charlie interrupted them. “Please take your seats. You need to start, Alexis.”

Alexis sat in the armchair; she glanced at the door one more time, and there he was, looking shamelessly handsome in a white shirt and jeans. Drake winked at her as he sat on one of the sofas next to her. His boyish grin had the power of rendering her speechless. She swallowed her nervousness and opened the book. Drake noticed that it was signed by Alexis Walker, and his smile got wider.

“Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Tom who lived in a small red cabin in the middle of the woods. Every night before bed, his mom and dad sang him lullabies and told him stories of faraway lands, brave princes, and courageous queens. His best friends were Buttons, a little grey rabbit that followed Tom everywhere he went, and Maxie, an enthusiastic fire truck with a loud voice that only Tom could hear. Tom wanted to travel very far; thus, his dream had always been to conquer the faraway lands his parents described to him every night. One sunny April morning, Tom put his wooden sword and blue cape in his backpack and left, followed by Buttons and Maxie, to live the adventures he had dreamed of.”

Alexis looked up and saw Drake staring at her with glossy eyes. He gave her a soft nod, so she turned her eyes back to the book and kept on reading. Perhaps to avoid thinking about his lost son, Drake’s attention focused on her. He looked at her, enraptured. Alexis’ bright brown eyes were almost shining; her silvery voice had the entire room captivated with her story. The inner light he had always loved in her was back, as bright as before. In only a few months, she had managed to regain control of her life and make her dream come true. Every time he thought that he couldn’t possibly admire or love her more, she surprised him again. He was utterly, hopelessly, crazily in love with her.

“… Tom, Maxie, and Buttons had lived an incredible adventure. Tom missed his mom and dad deeply, but he knew that they were waiting for him in their little red cabin in the middle of the woods and that he’d soon come home.”

Alexis closed the book with watering eyes. “Thank you for coming. This book means a great deal to me.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I hope you enjoyed it. I’ll be happy to answer questions if you have any.”

One woman holding a little girl in her lap raised her hand and asked the question Drake was dreading. “Is Tom’s character based on someone real?”

Charlie had warned Alexis that she needed to be prepared to answer that. She gripped the book and took a deep breath. “Yes, on my son.” After drinking a gulp of water to control herself, she added, “He’s no longer with us.”

Drake smiled at her sadly but reassuringly when the audience went silent for a few seconds.

Maxwell quickly raised his hand. “Um … I just wanted to know if you’re preparing a sequel.”

Alexis gave him a grateful look. “Not at the moment, maybe later. Thank you for your question, sir.”

A little girl in pigtails asked her a question about Buttons, and a blond boy questioned her about Maxie the fire truck.

After she was done answering and signing copies of the book, she went to meet with Drake, Max, and Olivia.

“I loved it, Blossom! I have to say that Maxie the fire truck is the best character. He seems to be the smartest, funniest, cutest one of them all. Certainly much more than the evil Queen Nevrakis,” Maxwell beamed as Olivia shook her head, for once, more amused than annoyed.

A sudden silence made Olivia realise that Drake and Alexis were looking at each other longingly. She cleared her throat. “I have a date with Jin tonight, so we better get going, Max.”

Maxwell beamed as he hugged both of them. It was unquestionable for anyone who knew them that Drake and Alexis belonged with each other, and nothing could make Max happier than to see them together again. “I’m so happy for you guys! See you soon!”

They both chuckled; Drake brushed Alexis’ hand with his, slowly intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Did you like it?” Alexis asked Drake timidly.

“It was wonderful. The way you described him was simply perfect.” Drake threw her a small smile. “It was our Tom. I admire you so much, Lexie. Thank you for this; I needed it too.” They locked eyes with each other, both their hearts racing.

“I’m ready, Drake,” Alexis blurted out and immediately felt the blush in her cheeks, her heart beating furiously in her chest.  

“Are you sure you’re ready to come with me?” he asked her with his deep voice, an intense longing in his eyes.

“As long as you still want me to,” Alexis gave him a coquettish smile.

He tightened his grip on her hand. “Always, Lexie.” The loving look she gave him back was enough to drive him wild. Drake looked around him; they were in a children’s bookstore surrounded by kids and Alexis’ old boss. Probably not the best place to kiss her as he was dying to.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered sheepishly.

Alexis arched her brows. “Really? What is it?” she asked excitedly.

Drake smirked. “A surprise has to be unexpected. As a writer, aren’t you supposed to know definitions of words and shit?”

“Smartass,” she laughed. “I just need to say good-bye to Charlie really quick, and we can go.”

When they got into the car, Drake leaned to her seat and cupped her beautiful face. She let out a soft gasp when he kissed both her cheeks, the corners of her lips, her nose. “I’m going to spend the rest of the night, of my life, kissing every part of you, baby,” he growled in her ear.

If Alexis waited another minute, she would’ve imploded right there, so she crashed her lips on his, making him groan with want. Drake pressed her body against the seat, but an annoying thought made him stop. “Our first time after all this time will not be in the passenger seat of my jeep, Lexie.”

Alexis bit her bottom lip. “Let’s go,” she urged him.

After a short drive, Drake pulled over on the side of the highway. He grabbed a silk tie from the back seat. “I need to cover your eyes.”

“It’s dark, and we’re in the middle of the woods, Walker. Are you trying to kidnap me?” she asked with a flirty tone.

A smug grin spread on his lips. “Actually, that is exactly what I’m going to do. Turn around.” Gently, he placed the tie around her head and tied a knot. “No peeking, Lex,” he said, kissing her head.

She shook her head, now too excited to speak.

After a few minutes, they arrived, and Drake helped Alexis to get out of the car. The feeling of walking in an unknown place with her eyes covered could’ve made someone nervous, but there was no one Alexis trusted more in the world than Drake; he would rather die than let something happen to her. They walked a few inches with him firmly holding her. When they stopped, he pulled her back against his chest, circling her waist with his arm. He leaned to speak in her ear. “Six months ago, in one of our phone calls, you told me how difficult it’d be for you to live in the cabin again. That you would love to start our lives somewhere else.”

Alexis nodded.

“That day, I recalled how much you loved that abandoned house next to the lake. It was small and run down, but you fell completely in love with it. Remember?”

“I do,” she said with a lump in her throat.

They were taking a stroll next to the lake when Alexis saw it. The house was almost in ruins, but according to her, it had significant potential. As it was clearly uninhabited and there was a window open on the ground floor, she climbed through it; Drake followed her, chuckling, with Tom in his arms. Once inside, he had to admit that the house did show promise. They would have to spend a lot of weekends renovating it, but he loved manual work and was sure Alexis would make it as cozy and comfortable as she had made his father’s cabin. Back in their own place, they daydreamed about buying the house and renovating it. She drew a small sketch of what she pictured: a huge kitchen where they could both cook together, a swing for Tom to play, a porch to watch the sunset, and a main room with a skylight where they could see the stars every night. It would take some time and a lot of effort, but they thought the house was worth it. When Drake was about to make an offer to the real estate agency, tragedy overcame them, and they forgot all about it.

Drake uncovered her eyes, and she gasped. They were standing in front of the house, but it had changed. Drake had spent the last five months working on it every minute of his spare time. The old washed-out exterior was now a beautiful wooden façade with a large, wide-pillared porch in the front.

He held her tightly. “Now this is the exterior. There’s still a lot of renovation work to do inside. You’ll see.”

Alexis had happy tears in her eyes. “I … I can’t believe you did this, Drake. It’s gorgeous.” She turned around, and he cupped her face and gave her an intense, searing kiss.

“Come on, I want to show you the rest,” he said when they finally parted, breathless. Drake grabbed her hand, and they laced their fingers together.

They stepped into the house, and even if Drake was right and the first floor still needed a lot of work, Alexis wandered around happily with her heart full. “I love the kitchen! We can have a large counter here,” she said, pointing to one side of the room. “What would you think about a thick wood table?”

Alexis’ face reflected so much excitement and enthusiasm that Drake couldn’t help but grin at it. His gaze followed her as she pranced all over the house with a thousand ideas of how to renovate every corner of it.

“So I gather you like it?” he asked, arching an amused eyebrow.

“Like it? I love it, Drake! It’s perfect. I’d like to move here as soon as possible!”

Drake couldn’t help but smile tenderly at her. “Are you sure? We can stay in the cabin for a few more months while we do the renovation work here.”

“If the water is running, I’d prefer to stay here,” she answered with an earnest smile. “This is us, Drake. Ours. A new life together. I’m not running from our past, and I never want to forget Tom,” she said, brushing a small tear with her hand. “I just want to start over in a place where we can create new memories.”

“If that’s really what you think, there’s a room that’s already finished.” He threw her a quizzical smile. “Do you remember the drawing you did of how we pictured our house?”

Alexis let out a spontaneous laugh that made Drake's heart leap. “I would barely call the doodles I made drawings, but I remember the moment, yes.”

“Well, I hope I did the doodles justice.” Drake held his breath as he opened the door.

Alexis gasped; he had remembered everything she had dreamed of. A soft, fluffy carpet. A big bed full of cushions, a fireplace warming the room, and the skylight over the bed. The moon and stars lit up the whole room through it.

Mesmerized, she took off the blazer she was wearing, and Drake’s eyes widened. The beige dress she had underneath was tight and hugged every single curve of her body. Suddenly, Drake was very aware of the taunting way she moved; she turned her back on him to look at the fireplace, and his eyes went straight to her bare upper back and the delicate line of her neck. Blushing, he moved to readjust himself. Her thrilled voice pulled him out of his thoughts.  

“I love it, Drake. Every single part of it! The skylight is exactly how I’d imagined it!” He took off his own jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “What?” she asked, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she realized he was looking intently at her.

“Are you wearing that for me?” Drake’s low baritone and sexy smile made her blush crimson red.

“Maybe,” she answered with the most innocent look in her eyes but a sultry voice.

Drake cut the distance between them; even with her sexy nude heels, he towered over her. “Don’t give me that innocent look, baby,” he growled. “Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Alexis leaned towards him, her hands playing with his collar. “See, Drake, that’s the thing. I don’t want you to control yourself.”

He swept her off her feet. She looped his neck in a burst of roaring laughter. “I want you so fucking much, Lexie,” he told her as he gently dropped her on the bed. Their bed. He hovered over her, holding his weight up with his right arm.

She hid her nose on his neck, inhaling the intoxicating sandalwood. “Me too, Drake.”

“You deserve the world,” Drake said, staring at her almost black eyes looking at him adoringly. He wanted nothing more than to make this night last as long as he possibly could. “It’s been four years that I’ve been thinking about this moment,” he said, gently kissing her cheek. “Four years that I’ve dreamed of making you mine again.” He growled at her ear as he nipped it. “And now, I finally have you here --” He softly bit her neck. “-- all for myself.” He kissed her collarbone as he slowly unzipped her dress. “This damn dress is making me wild, Lexie.”

As he rubbed his thumb on her lips and cheeks, Alexis’ heart beat so fast, she was sure he could hear it. Finally, he kissed her, and time stopped. His lips felt so soft on hers, his tongue so passionate when it slowly entered her mouth, intertwining with hers. His strong hand cupped her head as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly the need became urgent, and he moved to her neck, possessed by the need to claim her. Drake softly sank his teeth in her, making an exhilarated moan escape from her throat.

Slowly, he pulled the dress’ front zipper down, peppering sultry kisses on every inch of skin he discovered, until only her lacy underwear was left. He pulled her to him and kissed her senseless as he unclasped her bra. Her beautiful breasts appeared, her buds erect, ready for him to kiss them. Drake softly flicked his thumbs over them. Then his tongue tasted them, taking pleasure in the sight of Alexis arching her back for him. He took a deep breath until all he could smell was her cherry fragrance. With a cocky smile, he pulled down her last piece of underwear, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable to him.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Lexie,” he groaned as his eyes wandered over her body lit up by the moonlight, and his calloused hands moved down her body, rubbing her face, her breasts, her hips, a trail of excited goosebumps appearing everywhere he touched. “And you are all mine.”

Alexis gave him a flirty smile. “I want to see you too, Drake.” She softly pushed him up until they were both on their knees.

The sight of her naked, kneeling in front of him and undressing him with nervous fingers, desperate to kiss him, to touch him too, almost killed him. She undid his jeans and let her hand wander around his cock. He drank in the sight of her, enjoying her soft, small hand around him for a moment. Her soft, skilled strokes on his impossible hard length felt incredible, but after all the months, the years they had spent apart, he wasn’t going to last long if she continued. “I won’t be able to resist much longer, baby.” He grabbed her wrist. “And there are a lot, a lot of things, I want to do to you first. Lay down,” he growled, standing up to toss off the rest of his clothes.

Alexis felt like she was on fire, ready to explode. Drake’s lips kissing her legs, her knees, and her inner thighs only made the fire wilder. She gripped the sheets when she felt his hot mouth on her, kissing the soft skin around her clit.  

“It drives me insane how wet you already are for me, Lex,” he said, parting her lips with his tongue and softly entering her, inebriating himself with her taste.

“Drake, god! Drake,” she chanted again and again as his expert tongue and fingers explored her, thrust inside of her. Feeling the heat build more and more, she tugged his hair, making him smile against her warm skin. Finally, she reached a point of no return and screamed his name again.

Drake smirked. “Fuck, I’ve missed that, baby.”

Still panting, she managed to answer in a soft voice. “Me too, Drake.” Drake caught her lips in a slow, tender kiss as she came down from her high.

“Come here,” he whispered, scooping her and sitting her in his lap. Alexis straddled him, enveloping his torso with her legs. Cradling her with his arms, Drake’s desperate lips ravaged her neck, alternating soft kisses with small bites. Her back arched, giving him full access to her breasts that he cupped, his thumbs slowly circling her hard nipples again. Alexis rolled her hips against him.

Drake chuckled against her neck. “Are you trying to tell me something, Lexie?”

“I need you now, Drake,” she moaned. His cock was already throbbing, but he felt like he was going to burst at her words

“Whatever you want, Alexis.” He positioned himself with the tip of his dick, teasing the little nub of her center. “Look at me, baby. I want to see your pretty eyes as I enter you.”

She locked her burning eyes with him, and he grabbed her hips, confidently guiding her body to enter her folds slowly, giving her time to adjust to him.

The world, the moon, and the stars, everything around them faded. Each set of eyes only saw each other, reflecting the passion, the excitement, the deep love they felt.

“I love you, Lexie,” Drake whispered as he slowly moved inside of her, adoring her smell, the way she moved, how she moaned his name.

“I love you too, Drake,” Alexis whispered back, reveling in the sensation of him filling her completely. Of her heart racing with every delicious thrust. Of his strong arms holding her tightly, safely. Of his hands caressing her back. “I feel you everywhere, Drake, god.”

They rocked their hips at the same pace, increasing speed as their movements became more passionate, more desperate. He ground into her powerfully, feeling her walls tighten around him. The sensation was unbelievable, an exceptional connection that neither of them could ever experience with anyone else. “Come with me, baby,” he whispered as his hand reached her center, allowing his thumb to rub the little nub in it, making her lose her mind. Alexis couldn’t formulate a coherent thought, let alone talk, as the most intense wave of pleasure of her life came cresting over her. A powerful “Drake!” escaped her lips as she climaxed.

His name on her swollen lips and the way she was still vibrating against him pushed him over the edge.

“Mine, Lexie, mine,” he growled, marking her neck as he filled her in complete ecstasy.

He pulled her into his chest, both of them silently enjoying their descent from heaven.

He held her tightly, kissing the top of her head as he lazily rubbed her back, incapable to stop touching her.

“A penny for your thoughts, Lexie.”

She looked at him through her eyelashes, smiling.

“I was just thinking about how absolutely perfect this was.” She stroked his chiseled abs with her hand.

He smirked. “You’re perfect, baby. A fucking work of art.”

Alexis smiled against his chest, a pleasant feeling of utter happiness settling in her chest.

Part of the night was spent with tender whispers, passionate touches, and shared laughs. The rest, they spent rediscovering every nook and hidden corner of each other’s bodies as if they were trying to recoup the last five years in a few hours. Finally, the morning lights caught them sleeping tangled in each other’s bodies. Drake opened his eyes first, smiling as he hadn’t done in five years.

“Good morning, baby,” he whispered in her ear, waking her up.

“Nuh, uh, too early.” She hid her head under the pillow.

“You have to see this, Lexie. Wake up,” he said softly, kissing her bare back.

“God, I’ve forgotten how good you are at motivating a girl.”

Drake chuckled. “Come here.”

Wrapped in the sheets with Drake hugging her tightly from behind, Lexie sat on the porch in front of the lake, and she understood why he had woken her up. In front of her eyes, a sumptuous spectacle of pink, ochre and golden sun rays extended over the glowing lake. It was the most stunning sunrise she had ever seen.

“There’s something I need to tell you that might change your mind about us,” Alexis warned him cautiously. She bit her lips, feeling remorseful. She should have discussed it the day before, but selfishly, she had wanted to enjoy the night with Drake.

He almost laughed at the idea. “Nothing would change my mind, Lexie. Test me.”

She took a deep breath and let the sentence out as fast as she could. “I don’t know if I ever want any more children, but I don’t think so.” She carefully gauged his reaction as she asked. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered sincerely. “I didn’t for a long time; I was adamant. ” He looked tenderly at her. “Now, I’m not so sure, but I do know that the idea scares the shit out of me.”

Alexis let out a relieved breath. “Me too.”

“I’ll tell you this. We’ll revisit the idea in a few years, but we won’t do it unless we’re both sure. Deal?”

“And what if I don’t change my mind, and you do?” she asked worriedly.

“Then we won’t, Lexie. All I want out of life I have right here,” he said, holding her even tighter. “Nine years ago, in my vows, I told you that I loved the fire in your eyes and how much you love life. I told you that I would always take care of that gorgeous inner light of yours. But I didn’t do a great job.” Alexis was about to protest, but Drake put his thumb on her lips, smiling. "I promise that I’ll devote the rest of my life to making you happy. I’m so proud of you, of everything you are, Lexie. I love you more than I did back then, much more.” He opened his palm, where he had their wedding rings in his hand. “I always knew that one day we would be wearing these again, Mrs. Walker.”

Alexis beamed. “I love you, too. You have no idea how much. For years, I felt lifeless, and now just looking at you, my heart hammers, Drake. You take away the emptiness, the sadness. You make me so incredibly happy.”

A bittersweet tear escaped from her eyes when she extended her hand and watched, immensely moved, how Drake slid her wedding band and engagement ring on her finger. Then she put his on.

Relieved, she turned her head up and caught his lips in a delicious, deep kiss.

Drake noticed a small, tiny tear. “What’s up, Lexie?”

“I was really convinced that I could never feel this extremely elated again, and now that I do, I also feel …” She stopped in her tracks.

“Guilty. You feel guilty for feeling happy.”

She nodded slowly.

“Me too.” Drake rubbed her cheek with his hand. “I think we have to learn to live with that, baby. Tom will always be here. He’ll always hurt.”

Alexis snuggled against him as Drake drew her into his arms. A loving smile spread on her lips; no matter how difficult or painful their grief would be in the future, they would be facing it togther.

The End.

[dise7se]

threshold

by: @spideysforce (7k)

rating: general/teen and up audiences

relationships: peter parker & tony stark, peter parker & mj & johnny storm & gwen stacy

characters: peter parker, tony stark, michelle jones, johnny storm, gwen stacy, &  ned leeds

summary:

peter: 17, a little shit camper, teenager, about to leave for college and it’s the end of summer

tony: a tired, 27 year old man, turns into a teeangers dad

buzzfeed unsolved au, a msyterious warehouse at summer camp, and found family

leave comments and kudos on ao3

When Peter first got to camp, it was tortuous. It felt like aunt May was sending him for some kiddie math camp, for fuck’s sake, he was 17. 

Stark Camp was an elite stem camp, only the brightest minds arrived here, no matter what their demographic, income, or social status. He applied, or was forced to apply by May, to work on robotics projects whilst there. To Peter’s absolute horror, whoever this billionaire trust-fund guy Stark was, was his camp counselor. 

His fucking camp counselor. 

Peter heard about the first summer camp session, he was participating in the second, which started at the beginning of August. His friends came back home to Queens from Stark camp, a ghost rattling in the old shell of their bodies, their soulless eyes begging for reprieve, the dark circles under their eyes indicating their primal instinct for victory in the camp competitions, to impress the mysterious genius billionaire they so desperately wanted to rob.

He spent the entirety of the summer trying to escape the camp, it was like everyday Mr. Stark (no, he won’t call him anything else,) targeted him only, saw some sort of promise in him, but he’d merely point to his friends and take the burden of being recognized off of him. May’s math camp. No. He can’t be noticed here, because maybe they’ll start talking about college, and how to prepare for college. Yuck.

Not that Peter was avoiding going to college, of course he’s applying. But it’s summer. His last summer before college, he needs to go out with a bang. Not some nerd camp in upstate New York. At least MJ is here. He’s 99% sure she joined to make fun of everyone’s projects, be condescending, and cause as many issues as she can while simultaneously keeping productivity to the bare minimum by scaring everyone. Yeah, that’s MJ right there.

He peeked back at her from over his shoulder and away from his robotics equipment during their scheduled tech building time, she sat at the table behind him to talk to the group about, 10 minutes ago, Peter forgot while he secretly executed Plan Ghouls, (yes MJ named it), while Tony oversaw everyone in the recreation center at camp, and maybe it’s because the Stark family is fucking rich they don’t deserve any money at all, this building looks way too nice to be here. 

It was like Tony Stark, this billionaire who is barely even 30 years old, was fucking with him, Peter Parker personally. Did he enjoy tormenting his group? He acted warily around MJ, like finding a wire in a maze leading to a fuse. He’d never seen anything more glorious; a nearly thirty year old man scared of a 17 year old. Peter analyzed the older man and concluded that he is an eight year old with the wisdom of an eighty year old.

Ned promised he’d call every single day of camp, and Peter thought he’d actually die without his best friend at camp, disintegrate on the spot like some formidable being pulling apart every atom, until he’s lost in the atmosphere, drifting away like he never existed. He missed his best friend, okay? Who else would he talk to about.. the thing, his weird spider senses, and possible crime he could stop from 100 miles away from Queens.

His guy on the computer had other plans for the end of the summer, his family was going to visit their cousins that Ned conveniently was ecstatic to go on, leaving Peter to rot and die alone in summer camp. A haunted summer camp.

Peter snuck another entire circuit board into his pocket. Morally, this is very wrong. He reprimands himself over it. But, technically, he paid for this with his camp fee? 

He uses less equipment for his actual projects than.. their secret project. He will use the same amount of equipment, just one is not prohibited because he technically can’t make secret projects on the side that may or may not pertain to the spooky warehouse half a mile out that Tony Stark refuses to comment on.

“Hey!” MJ yells right beside his ear, and he fumbles the lego pieces he contemplated taking in his hands and screeches. She laughs, holding her side, “Did I scare you?”

Peter plasters the best glare he can on his face, “No, you didn’t, I just yawned.” She will not win, whatever contest she made up in her head for the…. ghost catching competition, he will be two steps ahead of her and he will win. No matter how many horror movies they watch, and no matter how scared he is of her when she has no reaction except for laughter during their movie nights in the woods at night with the rest of the camp.

Countdown to Plan Ghoul’s execution: 3 days, 6 hours, 20 minutes.

—

They became acquainted with the weird, annoying show-off Johnny the second week of camp. So, last week. Peter wouldn’t call Johnny his friend, maybe not even acquaintance, but Johnny wears ugly cargo pants and stuffs them with extra robotics lab equipment like beakers, (what the fuck do they need beakers for?), and somehow stuffed a Kit in his shirt. He’s sure Johnny is going to forget and sit down with a beaker in his pants and break his ass with glass.

MJ was the first to initiate the alliance at the beginning of camp. They’ve been here for the second half of their summer, so of course she devised a devious plan. 

They both hated Johnny at first, and that is exactly why Peter watched MJ reel Johnny into their plans once they’re in the Stark Camp Lab. MJ acted dryly and sarcastically around everyone she hated, drawing her to Johnny and Peter suffered the consequences. Peter lost count of the amount of times Johnny showed off his projects to the camp counselors, not long after stealing parts from a group nearby. MJ watched, intrigued, and Peter would always end up with his head down on his desk. And MJ would follow suit with Tony’s back to them, she would gather up all of Johnny’s wrenches, bolts, his keychain, and he’s pretty sure she got an arm of the collaborative robot in the corner.

And then the next dewy morning, the humidity was too thick and their eyes were unable to open from the night before because Tony told a story about a demon coming to life at the campfire, it’s real Tony has totally seen it, MJ and Peter were on breakfast duty with the camp counselors. The smell of tinder reeked on their flannels, but Tony pulled out the chocolate chips the moment he arrived, the other camp counselors shot glares at him. Peter had to turn away to hide his snicker.

This is when they met Gwen. She was part of another camp counselors group, and the two of them had their hair done, Gwen had cool piercings, even one on her face, with a vinyl knapsack by her feet full of patches. Her camp counselor has an itinerary, and oh, my god, it’s laminated, and Peter’s eyes widen and he thinks his pupils turned into the shape of hearts. The last time he saw an itinerary and Tony did not lose them while hiking was the first day of camp. Gwen’s camp counselor, Jen, even brought snacks for all of them. 

MJ propped herself up on a nearby table in the kitchen and Tony rambled on about how his father never sent him to camp, and if he knew he’d practically be a boy scout out here in the woods he might’ve considered it. Peter thinks he heard the man say he was working towards his bachelor degree at their age. What a weird guy.

Johnny walked in, and Jen, the cool camp counselor reads out his last name and it’s Storm?! Peter imagines Johnny is the type of guy to steal his hypothetical sister’s toys and bury them in his suburban backyard and blame it on ghosts, and of course he tells MJ this theory.

MJ flips pancakes on the stoves, the hiss of the pancake mix to heat loud enough to drown out her inconspicuous whispers Peter nearly drops his spatula from her blaring whisper, “I sketched a prototype and stole Tony’s pencil. Our first prototype is called the Poltergeist Machine.”

He lowers his shoulders and sends his best glare, snarling and pointing with his head at Tony who is two feet away and yelling at someone on the phone about the physics kit they needed for today. “Are you crazy?! Also, that’s the ugliest name I’ve ever heard.”

MJ snarls back and throws her arms up, “Okay, well maybe names are not my forte!” And when Peter mumbled maybe under his breath, he really did know from a sixth sense that her shove was coming. And his shoulder nudges into something, and ouchie, that hurt, and it’s fucking Tony, off the phone and staring at them with his eyebrow quirk. Peter thinks he practices it in the mirror every night before bed, like brushing his teeth. He does it every day. He had never seen the man’s reaction into Peter physically bumping into him, though they did like messing with him. He was their counselor, they were bound to test his boundaries to see how much it would take to get in trouble, they’re sweet teenagers and not heathens. 

Tony did nothing, and awkwardly shoved him away when Peter just stared and gawked at him. 

Johnny and Gwen talked about college with Tony, who stayed on his phone and muttering, “Yeah, kids, you’ll get in,” and, “sure, yeah, we can work out a letter of rec,” and Peter pondered over his inability to plan more than three minutes ahead and felt a drop low in his stomach, because in two weeks he’d be beginning his college applications for senior year. 

He and Ned had their own college plan, to keep his guy in the chair nearby while he could vigilante his college town and get a physics degree. Ned gravitated toward an engineering degree or a journalism degree, he’d probably double major. That was the best plan they’ve made so far. This, and their plan ghoul, Ned had sent cryptic messages about the nearby warehouse being abandoned and never showing up on maps online. Ned had yelled very loudly over the phone to be careful because this might require Spider-Manning, and Peter yelled over his voice so nobody else could hear. 

Johnny had glared at him from ten feet away in the field during that phone call and walked away.

And he looked at him the same way now. This little shit. I  will get into college. Maybe I’ll get my own Tony letter of rec without showing off. 

Peter knows what’s going to happen next when he turns to stomp away, his foot caught in the strap of MJ’s backpack she left thrown on the floor and sends him skidding. Geez. He hears metal clanking, and what the fuck, did he knock over a table or something? And MJ throws herself towards her backpack before his brain can connect her actions to conclusion, and there’s a robot hand skidding across the floor the same, resigned way he did. 

The robot hand. The fucking robotic hand. 

They’d have to face Mr. Stark’s wrath, and he feels like he’s entered Hell, forget the commandment and We should fear and love God so we do not tell lies about our neighbor, betray him, slander him and he hears the robotic and smash into the table and break, and Tony lunges at it like it’s some family heirloom that he intentionally broke.

“MJ!” He squeaks, like he hasn’t been through puberty and is nearly an adult. Johnny’s mouth falls open and he tugs on Gwen’s sleeve as if everybody here to cook breakfast wasn’t staring in awe, and he hears war cries from MJ demanding whoever planted these supplies come forward and reveal themselves or she’d send a witch to curse them. 

It was like a 1995 school drama show, the pancakes burning on the stove and the unamused camp counselors fiddle with the ends of their shirts and Tony stares at the sight of devastation and MJ sheepishly smiles. Gwen is the first to break the silence, she snorts unattractively and covers her face. “Sorry. That was a little funny.”

Tony merely zeroed in his gaze  on the two of them, hovering over them though he wasn’t much taller, attempting to humble them with his menacing face. He points two fingers at his eyes in the I’m watching you way, signaling his two fingers back to them. It’s not like they hadn’t witnessed Tony the day before steal the flags for their ‘capture the flag’ game because they kept losing.  

--

Stem camp was camp, Peter woke up scrambled every day, usually covering his face from the morning sun when Tony would pound on the door and swing it open and let the morning sun blind him. He isn’t sure how he woke up MJ, but he always waits 15 minutes after he wakes up Peter, and he thinks he hears gentle knocks and a little, “Good morning!” before he takes off to begin his day with way too much caffeine and energy.

Tony, in all his glory, is a hot mess and begs his supervisor to let him join the kids’ activities, and she usually says no but he jumps into the lake, anyways, yelling at MJ and Peter to use life vests. The camp supervisor, Virginia Potts, is usually in leggings and a t-shirt or tank top, her strawberry-blond hair in a ponytail, and always has her clipboard in her arms with tidied stacks of paper. She is always smiling, is modulated and soothing, like honey in a comb in the sun. Whenever Peter runs into her, he immediately straightens his back and wonders if its worth borrowing the robotics equipment before they put it back for plan ghoul. 

Pepper usually stands at the edge of the lake, a fixed gaze set on a floating Tony, her tin tucked in and her hip out. The first time Tony decided to ditch his camp counselor duties and join in with them and was approached by Pepper, he waved to her from the top of a rock enthusiastically. “Tony!” she exclaimed and everything she lectured him about seemed to go in one ear and come out the other.

“What is the number one rule of being a camp counselor, Mr. Stark?” Pepper had asked, while Tony striked Peter with a toy lightsaber they built that afternoon, and he nearly doubled over but was grabbed by the shoulders and held up by the menace in question. The weight of the saber wasn’t very heavy and it was made up of plastic, but Peter yanks the cool metal sword from his counselor’s arm. He’s never had any siblings and doesn’t know if Tony has either, but talking about baseball and college and physics having someone surprisingly grounding and comforting when he wandered off while hiking and busted his knee, for some reason Tony was good at first-aid.

--

“We totally  deserve a team pet!” Peter huffed at the campfire, their group settling in after a round of night zip-lining. 

“For God’s sake, we will not adopt a stray racoon for the team,” Tony yells from inside the cabin, bringing his stash of s’mores supplies he kept hidden and possibly explains the ants on the premise and not secured in the kitchen. “A mascot, maybe.”

“Please, this is Cranberry Lake, we do not need a pet to keep us from the ghosts,” Gwen declares, and before she can continue Peter screeches.

“So, you do admit there are ghosts!” 

Tony shivers dramatically once he rejoins the group in front of the campfire and the fire crackles in his face. Peter gasps, and Tony turns in worry, fearing the fucking kid is fucking asphysxiating. “You see! Tony just shivered when you mentioned the ghosts.” “Lowering your voice won’t do anything, you dipshit!” Johnny unnecessarily adds, getting tossed by a marshmallow and being directed into the direction of the nearby trees to sit in timeout by the all-knowing being Tony who declared if they cussed anymore they’d be sent to timeout, the Goddamned Almighty. 

“One more bad word out of you guys and next time you’re going to watch me swim in the lake, using all of your floaties while you watch from the dirt, wallowing in your own despair.” 

“Can I go back to Jen’s group?”

“Absolutely not. You three are keeping me alive at camp as it is,” Tony informs them as if they hadn’t noticed the man was really an 8 year old in an adult’s body. “Even Pepper agreed. She says my campers keep me alive.”

--

Tony floats on his back in the outdoor pool, the cold water reflects the sun and Peter floats nearby on a yellow inflatable pool float with printed dandelions on it. 

His friends chatter nearby, but his head leaning against the plastic floaty drowns the sound out. He hears his inner ear and hates it. Tony grunts, moving to grab his glass with juice and a small umbrella in it. This billionaire, the head of a company producing the world’s greatest and innovative technology was ridiculous. 

“Queens is..” Peter starts their conversation again, afraid he’s too quiet and the older man didn’t hear him. “Queens is my home. May and Ben raised me there, and being away from it sucks. I can’t be there to help.”

MJ sits at the other end of the pool on the hot cement, gasping when she lowers her legs in. She sounds too far away to them, in their own little corner. He raises his head to see if Tony had even heard him, but he seemed sipped from his drink and hummed to himself.

He waited for an answer before he nearly blew his cover again.

“Hometown of Parker. On Long Island, Citi Field, and supposed home of a vigilante, I think,” Tony supplies an answer, and Peter thinks, shit, he knows, “Once, Spider-Man dropped a hot-dog on my head.”

Peter laughs, freely, and shit, act natural, Peter, because the older man that he trusts but can’t seem to get the words off his tongue, his identity reveal, he’s never wanted to tell anybody else. Ever. It was his responsibility, his alter-ego, but he trusts him, for some reason.

The earth aligned them together, and whatever brought them together doesn’t make any sense. 

A mentor who understood him, who was a mere 10 years older than him, who had regrettably become friends with his Aunt May, and those two were forces in his life he wouldn’t know what to do without. Maybe that’s what happens when someone mentors you all summer and genuinely cares.

Tony was brilliant. Sure, him being here was confusing, but he wanted hands on experience in his company. Tony told them stories of the previous campers and which ones reminded Tony of them. When in the college application workshop the camp offered, he revised Peter’s papers and saw another piece of him on paper. 

Tony Stark was caring, gentle, he was a walking encyclopedia, his skepticism had kept a barrier around him at the beginning of the summer, but slowly thawed out the more he lived. If words have had no weight his entire life, he’s owing it to every teenager here to keep his promises and Peter wonders if anyone has ever kept their promises to Tony. A glass barrier, built from sand and liquid and carefully molded to protect him and encase him. 

Practically a kid when he lost his parents. Peter had read about it in the papers and saw news channels open every fragile wound on TV, and he remembers the news reporters surrounding Uncle Ben’s death. 

He isn’t sure what else has the older man so guarded, but he knows they are slowly breaking the crystalline around him, his meddling heart wrapped around this camp and the brilliant minds. He knows Tony is good, past his cynicism is pure optimism, and is is an excessive coffee drinking, smells of motor oil and marshmallows, mentors anybody he can, and the damaged heart he hides, who makes special tech presents for the students, smudged ink on his hands from his blueprints, is good. 

And Peter hopes he can model who he is after Tony. Spider-Man can strive to be someone like Tony, because the 27 year old understands what it means to invest in his community. And Queens is his home, he’s sure Tony will take care of it once he’s gone for college. Tony is human, he bleeds, he hurts, he doesn’t crack under pressure but quakes alone.

The man who emerges from the tech lab every morning at 6am because he forgot to sleep, yeah, that’s Peter’s mentor. How’d he get himself in this spot?

He turns back to Tony, “My uncle Ben used to tell me people are ugly, unlovable, they are their failures, but then they’d constantly prove him wrong. He wasn’t a pessimist, he was the opposite. But he saw the ugliness in New York, in Queens. But then he’d see sons hugging and kissing their mothers, he’d see local students building churches from scratch, and older siblings wiping their siblings’ tears when they played outside.”

Tony quirks a brow, but listens. He really listens, and he doesn’t know if he can finish. “He talked in constant epithets with our neighbors. Their gardens, his wisdom, and about how people always came together. Always.

“Maybe that’s who Spider-Man is trying to save, trying to represent in Queens. I think it’s what people like Ben would want to help. And I don’t want to leave, it’s my little sanctuary. This is the longest I’ve been away from Queens.”

Tony playfully flicked water towards Peter, who dodged it and splashed water back. He could be petulant, too. “I hope this spider-guy is watching over you in Queens. I know your Uncle Ben is. And I know, I know, it’s cheesy as hell, but he really is. I remember my Ma used to visit me in my dreams at my worst times.

“I had no one to go to. My family was gone, and I wanted to do better. Be better. At my rock bottom, I was brought back up by my dad’s best friend. He stayed by my side since they died.. And when I found out he wanted to steal the company from me, I knew I could never let people like that taint more kids in the future in this field. In any field, really. I think I have a responsibility with this camp, and I know my mom would be proud of me. And I know your uncle will be proud, too, because I’ve got your back, too.”

The breath is knocked out of Peter, because oh fuck, this camp counselor who was unwilling to budge, had opened up and was vulnerable and was scared of being stabbed in the back but trusted him.

Tony cracks a smile, supine on his back over the water again in no time and drags the pool floaty with him after he kicks off the wall. They float over to the group, and the weight in Peter’s sternum subdues. An ache he forgot was there, learned to live with, and Tony’s words ring in his head the rest of the day. He tells May about it and never stops missing her.

--

Peter reached into his canvas duffle bag with the initials, ‘BFP,’ embroidered into it and found the white baseball jersey he last remembers seeing when he was twelve years old. His cabin is chilly today, so it must be cold outside. The sun hides behind the clouds so he shrugs a long sleeve shirt on, then the jersey. 

They were going to play a game of baseball this morning, his muscles still aching from rock climbing and hiking the previous day. He was Spider-Man, he had a lot of endurance, but he hadn’t been exercising for a while. He missed feeling this; feeling fatigued but not from a night out as a vigilante. He and MJ climbed the rocks at least three separate times, their ropes clipped snugly to their bodies and Tony had reached the top to tie their ropes. They stupidly swung over the edges, dangling over the forest and had views of the lake. Johnny wasn’t scared of heights, but yelped every time his foot slipped and loose gravel jerked around him. Gwen swung back and forth, in a way that made Peter’s heart lurch when she kicked her feet off the rocks and threw her head back, lowering herself down.

It was an exhaustion that had a lightweight feeling to it. 

He wasn’t dizzied from the adrenaline of catching a perpetrator in time, or whatever criminal of the night presented themselves in Queens. 

Johnny had chased Peter, while rock climbing, and Peter felt genuine warmth for his friends. His best friends. They sent videos to Ned, Johnny and Gwen had been on a Facetime call with them the day before and declared whoever is friends with Peter, are their friends now. MJ shared her flannel, the one she wore around her waist once she noticed Peter’s calloused and cold hands when they brushed hands on the ropes. Gwen threatens to beat the shit out of Johnny if he bumps into her again, and once they reach the waterfall past the mounds of boulders they push each other in. 

Tony had sat on the side, pretending that he didn’t have a camera strapped around his neck and two bundles of film gathered from the summer.

And seeing the initials on his dufflebag this morning, Peter wishes he could march into his home, what it was once before, and announce his future profession to Uncle Ben. Because he’s stuck. Ben Parker would laugh, reminding Peter he wasn't much of a scientist himself, yet they’d ponder over every possibility they could. 

Ben, who smelled of cinnamon and coffee and New York, and Tony knocked on his cabin door before he could wrestle the baseball jersey on because the sight of it sent him reeling. Maybe May had accidentally packed it? Did she do this on purpose? They knew he would become homesick; he hasn’t left May’s for long. The longest he stayed away was for his DC trip in freshman year.

“Come in!” Peter calls.

“Hey, kid,” Tony opens the door, dressed in basketball shorts and a sweatshirt, with bags under his eyes that he seems to have everyday. He looks young; but he can notice the signs of smile and worry lines around his young-adult face. “You’re late. The kiddos sent me to check on you. We’re all waiting.”

“Sorry, I just needed to get dressed--”

Peter cuts himself off, breathing in the baseball jersey while he slides it over his head. And it was a smell he hadn’t smelled in years. May was more of a nostalgic and sentimental person, and held onto Ben’s objects. They’d peer through photo albums together, and Peter would silently grief sometimes, but he was back at the Mets game Ben fought to buy tickets for and took to. The fresh air, the golden sun, Ben’s oversized hat covered Peter’s forehead and eyes. Ben was in every stitch of the material. His mind retrieved whatever image of Ben it could, and Peter couldn’t breathe.

“I--” His breath wavered and betrayed him, and Tony looked at him with a concerned face. 

Peter can hear his phone buzzing with texts from Ned, probably responding to his breakdown over possible college majors he sent in a daze this morning when he saw an article about comets in their solar system, composed of water, dust, ice, and carbon monoxide. And he felt like one of those comets now, launched into the air with no destination and freefalling. 

The jersey was his actual size now, and Johnny yelled from outside the cabin, “Pete, hurry up or you’ll be catching the whole game!” Tony stared back at Peter in concern, maybe he could see through him. He hadn’t hidden his teen angst that much this summer, maybe Tony still remembers teen angst. Hopefully he didn’t call him out over his childish brain losing it on a Saturday morning at camp. Was it homesickness? Tony probably only dealt with kid campers being homesick.

“Sorry, shoot, I just lost track of my sentence,’ Peter says and it comes out like a question. 

He didn’t expect for Tony’s face to soften; the usual distant and withdrawn appearance is replaced with a small smile and a squeeze to his shoulder. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s play ball and possibly pop one of our shoulders out of our sockets by accident again.”

Peter snorted passed the burning tears threatening to spill, wiping them across his sleeve and noticed the man take a step back towards the door. “Yeah, right, ‘us.’ That was you, old man.”

Tony ducks his head, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and leaving a gap of space between them. He gives him a slight shove to the field, and Peter catches the ball in time before it strikes him in the face. Of course, that was MJ’s doing. 

They played until Peter fell over on the floor, dust spreading in the air around him on the field and stinging his eyes. He definitely hurt his shoulder.

Tony had half the mind to chortle at him once he sat Peter up, already sending Gwen to grab an ice pack and the first aid kit. He couldn’t help it; he’s clumsy. His spider senses are quiet here, only arising once this entire summer: when Tony followed him, Johnny, Gwen, and MJ down the rocks and found Tony huddled on a narrow precipice clutching his chest. He had a distant look in his eyes; Peter thought he had recognized that look on himself before. He was out of breath and his face was pale. Gwen chimed in from behind, “Are we still canoeing later today? Or is today archery?”

And that was smart. Tony schooled his face, and he must have tons of practice if it came so easily. He wouldn’t have guessed Tony was working himself out of a panic attack if it weren’t for the paleness of his face, but Gwen’s questions were good. They were about fifty feet off the ground, and he had almost slipped. At least, that’s what he heard.

The quietness of his spider senses didn’t scare him. It should have, but it didn’t. Maybe it would soon enough. Johnny sits down on the other side of him, asking Peter to squeeze his hand if he needs to. 

“Ah, shit, I promise it’s not that bad,” Peter says, already heading towards the nearest wall to reset his shoulder himself. He’s done this once before, thinks; once, there was an apartment building fire and he pulled out dozens of people, smoke fumes messing with his vision and chest. He had to reset his shoulder before pulling out a teeanger, grunting and pushing his arm against a nearby wall with the fire on his heels.

“Hey, kid,” Tony asserts, holding his hands up. “Can I? It hurts more if you do it. I can promise you that.”

Maybe it was because of being emotional over Ben’s baseball jersey, or missing May’s hugs and Ned’s hugs, meeting him by his locker every morning and how much he’ll miss them all for college that is a year away, was just stupid. And stupid over being upset over having to leave the nerdy stem camp and leave Tony behind. 

It wasn’t fair for him to be attached. He was like a mentor, an older brother, just from the past month. It wasn’t fair for him to ask for advice constantly, but has a feeling this man was more than a camp counselor to their group. For fuck’s sake, he shed a tear in front of him and the man let him.

Peter nods to his answer, already ducking his head and inhaling a deep breath. “Good, yeah, deep breath. You’ve got the right idea,” Tony says, grabbing his shoulder. There’s a slight pop when Tony pushes, and Peter bites back his pain and tastes blood. 

Tony holds onto his arm, and nods towards the rest of the concerned group, searching for any indication that Peter is okay. Gwen wipes a tear from his cheek, and he wonders what he would’ve done this summer without them. And what he’ll do if he doesn’t see them again. Maybe they’ll keep in touch, or apply to the same colleges. He didn’t want to lose them and the safety he felt with them.

--

“Okay, Peter, I told you for the millionth time, you connect the black wire to the circuit to get R2’s voice commands working,” Ned ordered the phone, and had given him, Johnny, MJ, and Gwen directions to the abandoned warehouse. 

It was kind of Tony’s fault for demanding a nap and leaving the four of them with another camp counselor that wasn’t as competent as he was.Well, to call Tony competent is a bit of a stretch, his methods are nonchalant. Hence, MJ is in the corner reading them murder stories from the 1930s and remindingthem the ghosts still linger in the woods of upstate New York, right where they are.

“Yeah, yeah, MJ, the eighty-year old ghost is here to haunt us,” Peter mutters, ignoring Ned’s directions because he is totally wrong. “Ned, no. Absolutely not. What is this, LEGOs sensors?”

“Oh, my God, if you’re going to tell a joke then make it funny,” Johnny groans, “It looks like a UFO.”

“Fuck you, Johnny!” Peter yells, tossing a wrench and then deciding he shouldn’t have done that, and hoped Johnny ducks his head in time, “It’s not UFOs! It’s R2D2, you stupid piece of shit!”

Maybe Peter was a little unhinged today. 

“Hey, ghost, knock this bookshelf down if you’re mad at us,” Gwen declares, drawing out her voice like she’s reading a ghost story to kids, “Or hold a candlestick in the middle of the room.”

The warehouse is small, it’s dark, and they use the sunlight as their lightsource. It was probably really stupid of them to break in, but this is it. Plan ghoul. And it’s the second to last night of camp, and they had vlogged the entire venture to the warehouse. 

MJ had kept all the equipment they gathered from the summer. Either Tony was completely oblivious, unaware of his surroundings at all times and chose to ignore the lack of passion in their projects all summer for this, R2D2 and Johnny’s soccer laying robot, and Gwen’s killer robot obstacle course, or Tony didn’t care. 

He was a billionaire. MJ still yells at the older man over his salary, but yesterday, he asked MJ to consult as an intern for his company and have input on the charity work the company participates in. And it was perfect for her. This was how they were wrapping their summer up; some of them receiving internships, letters of recommendation, and Peter stayed the same with the sick feeling in his stomach that he’d ruin his own life, or never be as far ahead as his peers. 

“Peter, I have the same kit in front of me. I gave you these blueprints!” Ned yells into his ear, and Peter drops his phone and breaks off R2D2’s arm. Gwen laughs, pointing out how much uglier the robot is.

“Can your ugly R2 even fit in my obstacle course?” Gwen asks, playing robot soccer with Johnny. Their controllers are loud, they beep too much, and the obstacle course is ugly. It’s really not, but he’d never admit to his new best friend how beautiful the course is and he wishes he could shrink down and play in it.

“Ghouls!” MJ yells, fiddling with her tiny robotic sensor that he’s pretty sure is a tracker she’s been planting. He makes a mental note to check his things later before leaving camp.”My bot says Johnny is in first place!”

Their robots race across the obstacle course of the filthy warehouse, the sun’s going down so they placed flashlights around the room and the golden hour sun basked the room as it set on the horizon. The room was full of laughter, MJ’s ghost monitor with activity levels he can’t understand, and Gwen runs into their pseudo soccer field to knock R2D2 over. 

They spent the rest of the night planning for college, planning to keep in touch, and devising another plan to take over Stark Industries once they all get jobs there. Peter knew he needed to go to college. He knew he couldn’t risk his family and friends and his identity.

They hear a crash outside, all of their movements hault. Peter doesn’t dare breathe, they all let their hearts pound in their chests. The sun had set by now, and Peter discreetly used his senses to listen and smell what, or who was outside. Gwen shows Peter her arm, the goosebumps set all over and she grabs the flashlight to use as a weapon. He’s impressed with her pose, but oh, shit, is it another camp goer? Did MJ fucking summon a ghoul?

Johnny shushes them, o-fucking-kay Johnny, shush the quiet group. Obnoxious. Peter blows out MJ’s candle, while she gets out her Poltergeist machine, where did she even keep it?

“Hide!”

The kids scatter, and MJ rambles through her theories of clues she’s found. “Is that a fucking bat?”

“Is it fucking Batman?”

“Peter, shut the fuck up!” Gwen chastises, elbowing him while they search for refuge behind the nearby bookcase full of dust and spiders. The shadow from outside looms, and the room is too dark to make out whoever kicks the door open.

The door was kicked open, and the group screamed. His brain clicked, his senses didn't go off.

It was fucking Tony.

Tony fucking Stark, with a casing of gold metal under his arm. And it’s his gold and red robot. 

Let’s just say Tony dragged the four of them back to the camp after destroying their robots in robot-killer-soccer. 

--

Tony does not know the impact he had on each teenagers’ lives. Maybe it was just Peter, and he was being sappy, but it was the last day of camp and the sun was setting and he was tired of the pinewood. It’d take him at least a week to get the smell of earth out of his clothes.

MJ shows affection, she hugs Gwen before they depart. Oh, God. They’re really gonna miss camp.

The summer is ending, case closed. Everybody’s packing their bags, and Peter’s pretty sure he will never recover from his scare during plan ghoul. Who would’ve known Tony had the same idea as them.

His friends, who wear his hats, who steal his food, and who wipe his tears are leaving. He has MJ. He has Ned. 

Peter had set his flannel on fire but they put him out. It was really stupid. 

Peter talked to Tony about Ben one night. He used metaphors, but he knew about Tony’s parents' loss in a car crash.

“Kid,” Tony says, pulling his attention away from the camp departures. Peter practically hopped on his toes of anticipation, walking closer to the older man. A father-figure? No. Older-brother figure? Maybe. Yes. 

“You better work hard on your college applications, kid, because I’m going to need a student researching with me at MIT,” Tony smiles, kindly, and Peter blinked. 

It still hadn’t set how much Tony believes in him. He knows he could be saying this out of kindness, out of pity maybe, but he had been the one to pull him from his reeling thoughts all summer long. 

Tony had welcomed him in the threshold, their own threshold they built together, when Peter needed someone there, to take him in, and he continued to stay in once school began. This had been the place Peter spent half the summer in, did summer homework at the poolside with Tony’s help, he accidentally left candy wrappers in Tony’s cabin and left even more ants, and grew comfortable.

“Pete, when you go off to college, I’m not kidding, don’t forget to call,” Tony says, because Peter probably looks too intense right now and doesn’t know how to unweb himself from his comfortable cocoon of a summer, and he admires his camp counselor so much.

“I’m scared,” Peter breathes, and shit, his eyes well up. And Tony is there, the smell of coffee and some sweat, pulling him into a hug and he closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

“Oh, kid,” Tony says, “Remember all the shitty advice I gave you. Do exactly what I wouldn’t do. And remind Aunt May I’m just a camp counselor and to stop yelling at me on the phone.”

Peter chuckles, because, oh God, knowing Tony and May, they’ll both team up to watch his back. 

“I don’t want to let go of everyone here. I don’t want self pity, or anything, but like, this is the first time I felt like I’ve lived, as cheesy as that sounds,” Peter admits, wiping his sleeve. 

Gwen is the first one to tackle the both of them, then Johnny, and Tony curses to the air. “Why did I become a camp counselor. The little boogers won’t leave me alone.”

“Stop lying, you know you came here for Pepper,” MJ snorts, “Old man.”

At the end of the summer, Peter is a teenage vigilante with a secret identity, but chose to relish in being a teeanger this summer. He was his grief or loss or anxiety, he was Peter Parker. And he wouldn’t ever just be Peter again. He thinks about what he wants, and he knows he wants them in his life. And Tony had given him this threshold, one that felt like a home away from home, and a family away from his small one.

[detroitbydark]

Crossed Connections: Part II

Characters: Tech x Togruta!Reader 

Warnings: None

Summary: Everyone experiences exhaustion. Some handle it differently than others.

You can read the first part here

Tech swore he’d seen something as the transport had skimmed the tree line in an attempt to cruise under Separatist radar. A dark shape, springing from through the deep red treetops, attempting to keep up with the Havoc Marauder. 

That’s how Hunter found himself an unwilling student to Tech’s lecture on Anaxes’ native fauna.

“Did you know fyrnocks typically roost in tree canopies? They’re almost entirely nocturnal and are incredibly light sensitive but they don’t sleep underground.”

Hunter nods vacantly, knowing that once Tech started on a topic it was best to let it run its course. Wrecker and Crosshair were both asleep in the cargo bay. It was upto one of them to keep their brain occupied while his battery wore down. 

Even exhausted, Tech’s mind never seemed to slow, jumping from one topic to the next. Exhaustion only seemed to bring to surface the more obscure things he fixated on. At least he wasn’t focusing on languages this go around. 

Last mission Wrecker sat with him for over two hours as he’d slipped in and out of Shyriiwook. Wrecker, never to be confused with an intellectual, had smiled and nodded to his young vod before he’d finally burned through enough energy to pass out over the ships console.

“It’s thought that the species as a whole springs from a single mother entity.” Tech looks up to see if Hunter was still listening “it’s all very fascinating.”

Tech types away at the small datapad secured to his vambrace. “There’s even some chatter about them being linked to the dark side of the Force. Can you imagine? I mean, from what I understand of the Force-“

“Tech” Hunter interrupts gruffly “save it until after debrief with Commander Cody?”

With a flip of the wrist, the younger clone closes the pad. “Of course Sarge, just thought it was interesting” 

“It is but we’re all running on fumes at this point. Not sure any of it is sinking in.” He taps at his temple and Tech nods.

“Understood.”

“Plus, we’re only a few klicks away from base and I need you to organize your part of the debrief.”

Tech nods before flipping the datapad back open and beginning to splice together the data he’d collected during recon.

------

You’ve been on Anaxes for two weeks. It still felt foreign, sleeping in the depths of the caverns the base had been built in and around was seriously beginning to mess with your internal clock. No windows to show you night or day, no warming from the sun or cooling as twin moons rose into the sky. You’d never been so thankful for your chronometer. It was hard to sleep as you adjusted to the new environment. While it left you exhausted you also had yet to be late for your shifts already up before you chrono had to wake you. You’d consider it a win.

You were weary of seeing clones on the edge of death, mangled and passed off to you like they were no more than broken droids, only their brothers and a few of the generals seeming to worry about their well being. It wasn’t right. You’re heart hurt and while the other staff had either their clone brothers or other civilians to cling to you seemed to be left to your own devices, as if everyone else could just sense that you weren’t like them. Like on Kiros.

Your people believed only the strong survived. If you couldn’t keep up the Togruta left you behind. Your belief in the value of life made you an outsider within your own tribe. You believed life needn’t validate itself to matter. Simply existing in the first place gave it meaning.

It was a highly unpopular opinion.

The sheer number of casualties you saw roll in daily was another change from your post on Coruscant. Generally, by the time you’d seen the troopers there they’d been stabilized and needed supportive care. Anaxes brought you the worst of the worst straight from the front lines. The GAR was taking mass losses, entire squads destroyed in the blink of an eye without warning. You’d lost count of the number of Clones who’d taken their last breath in your presence. You’d never experienced anything like it on Coruscant and your training had done nothing to truly prepare you for the crushing feeling each loss brought to you and the rest of the medical staff.

You swish your mug around before bring it to your lips taking another swallow of caf. It had gone cold long ago, forgotten when the last emergency had rolled through the doors. You fantasized about a hot mug of it to soothe your throat. You kept up a steady stream of talk when you worked.  Your patients always knew exactly what you were doing and your colleagues knew exactly what you were seeing. You’d heard some other medics comment on how annoying it was but you were never going to be accused of not communicating effectively, not when troopers lives could depend on it.

 A side effect of hours of talking were often a scratchy, dry throat and a hoarseness that silenced you for the rest of the day. It was ok. Outside of the medbay you were never really sure what to say. Your confidence in your professional skill did not cross over to personal affairs. 

“Y/N?” It was one of the clone medics, Kix, from the 501st. He was amiable enough and seemed easy to get along with the few times you’d worked together.

The empty mug was set aside, to be forgotten till a later time when desperation drove you to more of the swamp water that sat bubbling bitterly in the break room.

“I’ve got a squad coming in off a recon run. They’re due for a once over so the powers that be are going to send them down after debrief.” Kix looked on edge as he spoke and you cocked your head trying to figure out what he was saying between the lines.

“You want me to do it?” You knew how to do what he was asking, you just weren’t sure why he was asking you of all people.

“Uh, the boys in 99 don’t much care for other clones.”

That was a new one.

“I can do it Kix” you nod reassuringly. “Don’t worry, ok?” A knot was beginning to tangle in your stomach. You brush off the feeling and try to give the clone your most reassuring smile. 

Clones that didn’t like other clones? You hadn’t heard of such a thing outside of the Coruscant Guard. 

Those guys were dicks.

Kix seems relieved, running a hand over his face roughly “I owe you. I’ll have them sent over to Exam 3 when they’re done?”

“Make it 5” you correct “they’re still getting blood off the floor in 3 and 4”

-----

Crosshair is spitting mad by the time The Bad Batch is dismissed from Cody’s debrief and Tech can’t figure out why. He just had to acknowledge that  pissed off was simply the sniper’s default setting. Tech figures he’s mad no one was willing to take the bait and give him the fight he was looking for.

To his left Hunter seemed as relaxed as Hunter could be, ever vigilant eyes scanning the halls as they traveled. 

Per usual, Wrecker was all smiles (if maybe slightly menacing ones) as they entered the lift down to medical.

Tech was pleased. He’d been told the intel would be useful. No one had insulted anyone. No punches had been thrown. It all seemed pretty good as far as he was concerned. All they had to do now was do a quick medical check and they were good to go for at least a solid day of rest before their next assignment. he falls in behind the others while they queued into a single file in front of him, each dipping into the room in turn for their scan. Hunter is in and out before Tech can blink, same for Crosshair. 

Wrecker was never the best behaved for the medical staff. He just didn't like medical. Tech couldn't blame him.  Hunter and Crosshair wait for a few minutes, making sure they weren’t needed to calm the big man down, before the excuse themselves to the small barracks the four of them called home.

Tech uses the wait to browse the holonet for anything that might pique his curiosity and bookmarks a couple things to look into once he could crawl into his rack.

When Wrecker pops out of the exam room with a sucker tucked into his cheek some twenty minutes later without any shouting following him, Tech takes notice.

“It’s stormfruit, man” Wrecker hums around the sucker “I like this one” He tips his head back toward the exam room as one big mitt cuffs Tech on the shoulder, knocking him back a step as he passes by. 

Tech doesn’t bother to take his helmet off when a bright voice calls “Next!” 

He’s greeted by the sight of a dimpled Togruta smiling up at him from her spot on a stool.

“Hey you must be…” she glances quickly at her datapad resting on her crossed knee “Tech?”

The voice is exceedingly familiar but he doesn’t know the face as she motions to the table. His feet stutter step as he moves further in the exam room, taking a seat on the table the composite of his armor clanks loudly. 

“Long day?” The medic asks and he nods, eyes narrowed as he rifles though his mental files. He knew that voice.

“You're not gonna give me trouble like the last one, right?” She starts, “it took me half a dozen lollys to convince him to let me scan him. I’m starting to think he played me, ya know?”

He nods again.

“You don’t talk much do you? Nexu got your tongue?”

Tech huffs quietly, flipping his visor up to view her without the incandescent screen in the way.

“I think you're the only person that’s ever said that.” He chuckles.

She beams at him, squinting and searching his face.

“Yeah? I won’t complain about being your first.” She teases before her cheeks, already a rich color, flush brightly. When she smiles nervously he sees the quick pearly flash of her incisors. He liked the way she smiled at him. It makes his stomach flip in a vaguely familiar way.

That’s when the data points come together. The realization hits him.

He’d often wondered what Grutababy looked like, curiosity only reaching a fever pitch after their conversation on the comms. He’d lay awake at night, while his brothers slept and try to piece together what she might look like, cursing himself for never once asking for a picture. 

His mind would run through the many sentient species he was familiar with as he’d try to place the voice from their lone conversation to it it had become a game. Twi’lek, Mirialan, human… Togruta?

It makes sense now, her profile name. Grutababy. Really it shouldn’t have taken a genius level IQ to figure that out. 

He watches her lekku sway gently as she moves through the room. Her skin, somewhere between red and pink, reminds him of a sunset he’d once seen on an outer rim planet, the name of which he’s since forgotten. 

The white markings of her people cross from one temple to the other, circling her eye like a mask. Others travel in soft swooping lines from the outer corners of her eyes down, crossing at plump lips and fading out at her chin. A small diamond shaped mark rests above each brow. 

Her eyes are a pale, icy blue. The overall effect is… stunning. 

She was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined (and he’d tried).

“This may sound weird-” she hums” her fingers fumble for her scanner, nearly dropping it off the counter. Frowning, she taps it against the heel of her palm when it refuses to turn on.

Once. 

Twice.

Three times.

Tech winces, wants to tell her that there was no evidence that treating a device like that would make it work. On the contrary it would often-

The scanner buzzes to life and a triumphant smile lights her features.

“Like, I was saying, it may sound weird. I just get the feeling….”

Tech swallows hard.

She lets out a nervous laugh and waves it off, “Nevermind, ignore me. Not enough sleep or caf and I’m imagining things”

Something akin to disappointment filters through his chest as she rubs the back of a montrail nervously. He wonders if he should tell her? She interrupts his train of thought with a deep breath and the moment has passed. She's all business now as she adjusts the scanner in her grip.

“So Trooper, how about we get your scan done and you can go get the sleep that I’m not.” 

[tvfanatic]

Caramel and Cheddar

She hates O’Hare. She hates landing at a gate in Concourse L and having her connecting flight leave out of Concourse G when she only has a 20-minute layover without delays from her first flight. She hates being stuck there for three-hour layovers, and after sitting at a gate in Concourse K for that entire time, looking up to find the flight boarding at this gate is headed to Atlanta and her flight is now leaving out of Concourse H, causing her to sprint to the other area of the terminal and nearly miss her flight because no one bothered to announce the gate change since she was there three hours early.

You would think it’d be easier to get a direct flight from New York to California. But the holiday prices to fly from JFK to LAX round trip? Not worth it. Flying into San Diego is so much closer to home too. Until she ends up at a layover in O’Hare right before Christmas and she curses at herself for not booking a direct to LA earlier and just driving a rental car the nearly two hours down to Neptune.

Something else she hates about O’Hare? About Chicago? Snowstorms. Blizzards. Yeah they happen in New York, and her California born-and-raised self does not fare well in them there either. But the New York blizzards have yet to leave her stranded in an airport on the 23rd of December. She hadn’t left right after finals because she was determined to get ahead at her internship and get her foot in the door at this law firm after graduation next spring. She’d managed to impress one of the partners, but at what cost? Potentially spending Christmas Eve, and even Christmas if they can’t get the ice off the runways fast enough, at the airport? Or alone in some airport hotel?

Why was leaving sunny, summery California such a good idea again?

Veronica groans inwardly at the thought, standing up to throw away her now empty coffee cup. Her hand brushes against someone else’s at the trash can and she looks up to apologize, not expecting to see him standing there. Let alone him standing there dressed in pristine military whites. The Navy, that’s right, that’s what she’d heard.

Of all the snowed in airports in all of the world, of all the stupid concourses in this damn airport, and he ends up at hers.

“Logan,” she breathes.

He looks good. Damn good. He should wear that uniform and only that forever. Although she wouldn’t complain if he was shirtless.

Stop, Veronica. Don’t go there. Not again.

“Veronica Mars,” he whistles. “As I live and breathe.”

She hasn’t seen him since he was punching out the son of a very prominent mob member in the Hearst cafeteria for her. She hasn’t spoken to him since. But she’s thought about him plenty.

“Are you on the flight to San Diego?” she asks. “The one that I’m 99% sure is about to be cancelled.”

He nods. “Dick and I had plans to avoid the holidays together. I’m assuming you’re going back to spend them with your dad?”

It’s her turn to nod. “Where are you stationed right now?”

“Right here in Chicago. Hence the uniform. Came to the airport straight from a work function and didn’t have time to change. Although now, I guess I could have made time for it. You’re in New York now, right?”

She nods again. “Yeah, at Columbia.”

“Veronica Mars as a lawyer,” he smirks. “I should have seen that one coming.”

“Logan Echolls as a military man,” she parrots back his phrasing. “Not something I saw coming.”

He laughs at that, gestures back toward their gate. “Want to wait out this inevitable flight cancellation together?”

“Sure,” she smiles. “Let me grab my stuff.”

Veronica brings her carry-on over to where Logan has positioned himself at a seat near the window. The snow is coming down in big, fat flakes and the infamous Chicago wind is whipping it around creating white-out conditions. She’s afraid to even flag down a taxi in this.

“It always fascinates me that the weather can manage to do this here and yet California is stuck in a perpetual drought for most of the year,” he says when she sits down next to him.

“I’d barely seen snow until I moved to New York. I’m not sure that I like it.”

He laughs again and she realizes just how much she’s missed that sound.

“A true California girl at heart, huh?”

“Apparently so.”

“Think you’ll move back after you graduate?” he asks, looking over at her.

She takes her eyes off of the swirling storm outside and meets his gaze. She sees their past etched into his familiar features. It hurts. Maybe her feelings for him never truly managed to go away.  

“I don’t know. I’ve been busting my ass at this internship trying to get a job offer from the partners. That’s why I’m traveling so close to Christmas. But if that doesn’t work out, who knows where I’ll end up.”

“What kind of law firm is it?”

“They’re defense attorneys.”

“Huh. Always thought you’d end up at the other table. The prosecution taking the criminals down.”

“How quickly they forget,” she teases. “After everything I’ve done to help clear your name in the past? To clear Weevil’s? Hell, Abel Koontz?”

“You think Weevil and Koontz could afford someone as high-powered as you?”

“Who said I was high-powered? I’m just a lowly law student kissing ass to get a job.”

He laughs again, turning away to look back out at the snowfall. “You look good, Veronica. You seem good.”

Is she though? Good? Is she happy with the way her life has turned out in their years apart?

“I’m okay, I guess. School and work are pretty much all I have time for anymore. I ran into Piz last week, I guess he lives out in New York now too. He asked if I wanted to get coffee after the holidays were over to catch up. I’m not sure that I want to.”

She doesn’t know why she just did that, why she brought Piz up. Is she trying to subtly hint that she’s single? Why would he care? Why does she?

“How long did you two last?” Logan asks softly.

“The summer,” she shrugs. “I broke up with him before I moved to Stanford. I should have done it sooner though. We were never compatible to begin with.”

“Less compatible than the two of us?”

She looks back over at him and he’s still not looking at her. “Compatibility was never our problem.”

He turns his head back to meet her gaze. They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, trying to read each other in the old way they used to be able to do.

“Right,” he finally sighs, turning away first.

She doesn’t know what he means by that. She also in no way wants to start a fight with him right now.

“You look good too, Logan,” she tells him instead, her voice quiet. “The uniform suits you.”

“Thank you.”

His mood has already shifted. Why did she bring up Piz? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m sorry,” she says, staring straight ahead at the never-ending blanket of whiteness outside the window. “For everything.”

He doesn’t say anything, but instead slips her hand into his and squeezes before letting go and pushing himself to his feet.

“I’m going to go talk to the gate agent. See if they know how long this storm is supposed to last.”

“Okay,” is all she manages to say before he’s walking away.

It’s not like she expects anything to happen from this encounter. Eventually they’ll both get on a plane to San Diego. He’ll be in first class; she’ll be in coach. Her dad will pick her up at the airport. Dick might give him a ride, or he’ll just take some car service to take him wherever it is he’s meeting Dick. Their paths might across again while they’re in Neptune. But after New Year’s, she’ll go back to her life in New York and he’ll go back to his life in Chicago. Nothing is supposed to come from this chance airport encounter.

But the way she wishes he was the ex running into her in New York and asking her out to coffee sometime instead of Piz – the ways she’s wished on more than one occasion that she hadn’t left Neptune without saying goodbye or without cutting him completely out of her life. They were friends once. They were in love once. And she’s never felt that way about anybody since.

Logan shuffles back over. “So, surprise, our flight is cancelled. They’re just about to announce it. They’re waiting to rebook until the storm passes.”

“So, we’re stuck here for an indeterminant amount of time?”

“Looks that way,” he sighs. “I don’t think anyone’s going to be out driving during this. Or at least they shouldn’t be. At least they’re leaving all the restaurants open. It’s not like the employees can get home any easier than we can.”

Did she mention that she hates O’Hare?

“You hungry?” he asks. “Nuts on Clark has got the best caramel cheddar popcorn.”

“Caramel cheddar?” she asks back.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. It’s a delicious combination. I think you’ll like it.”

“If we’re stuck here for hours on end, I’m going to need more than popcorn.”

“We’ll do a food tour of the concourse, then.”

He extends an arm to her and she accepts it, looping her arm through his.

“It’s probably not the right time or place for this, but uh, I’ve missed you,” he says, guiding her down the hallway of the concourse.

She looks up at him, the cut of his jawline, thinks about the way she used to tease him by kissing her way around his jaw before he’d grab her face and pulls her lips to his.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Maybe she hates O’Hare. But maybe Chicago and blizzards aren’t so bad after all.

[breannacasey]

May I please also have number 99 from One Hundred Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ - “Be careful” for Rebecca/ Brian (Limitless)? I think this one can be as angsty as you'd like, since you write angst so well ^_^

Hold On To The Light

Brian Finch/Rebecca Harris. Angst with a Happy Ending. 1599 words. Read on ao3

               “Brian, be careful!”

Brian stood on the snow covered roof, fixing Christmas lights to the side of it. He fully intended on making this the prettiest house on the whole street. He didn’t earn himself a craft reputation for nothing. He’d made enough models at work to help them solve crimes, surely he could do a good job with this too.

               “Always.” He said with what Rebecca called his best shit-eating grin.

               “Cause you remember last year-”

               “Yeah, yeah, last year I slipped off the roof, I know. Don’t worry, I promise it won’t happen again. I’ve grown since then. I’m being really careful where I put my foot. Ice won’t take me down this time.”

The look Rebecca gave him from the front lawn seemed doubtful, but he’d prove her wrong. He had learned from his mistake, now he expected there to be traitorous ice hiding under the snow. He really was being careful. He didn’t know why she had so little confidence in him, he’d done so many more dangerous things before and came out the other side unscathed.

               “You know, you don’t have to do this. You don’t even celebrate Christmas!”

               “Yeah, but I like to make you happy. And most importantly, I think your mom only likes me because I can climb up here to put up the lights for her.”

Maybe that was a stretch considering how last time went, but he’d still gotten the job done before he fell and sprained his ankle.

               “That’s not true! She also likes that you’re... that... that you can change the bottle in the water cooler.”

               “Exactly. Anyway, you coming tonight? You know my parents always make a big deal of the first night.”

               “Of course. Besides, Rachel made me promise to. She wants a friendly face to be on her side when your brothers’ wives gang up on her.”

               “And I’m not one? Should I remind you I was doing that job just fine before you came along?”

               “By grabbing all the forever single attention, and adding no career path to it. I wouldn’t be so proud of that. Aren’t you glad Rachel and I get along now?”

               “Starting to worry about you leaving for my little sister, but yes, I’m really happy you got over whatever it was between you two.”

               “I’d never leave you. I can’t resist your big heart. Besides, no one is more exasperatingly adorable as you.”

               “Good. Here, all done. See, just like I told you, everything went well. I can handle it. Don’t even need NZT. Your mom will get so many compliments for this and she’ll be forced to change her mind about me.”

               “Oh, for sure.”

He was beaming, so happy with himself. He started making his way down, but he got his foot into one of the string lights, tripped and fell over the side of the roof, Rebecca’s scream the only thing that existed anymore.

               “Brian!”

He landed on the ground and he couldn’t say where the pain was coming from, it was all over his body, overwhelming. He tried to focus on Rebecca. On the sound of her steps in the snow as she ran towards him. On the sound of her voice as she asked, again and again, if he was okay. He thought he answered, but maybe he didn’t. He stared at her as she leaned over him, tears brightening her eyes, and her phone glued to the side of her face as she called for an ambulance. He tried to smile to reassure her and she gently let her fingers trace the side of his face, telling him help was coming and it would all be alright. All he had to do was hold on.

Then everything went black.

----

It was so much worse than last year.

Last year, he’d slipped and landed on his foot that sprained. This time, he got his foot stuck in the lights which caused him to stay suspended for maybe a second before falling head first, bringing all the lights down with him. She ran, yelling, screaming, wishing he’d answer something stupid and witty along the lines of “see, I didn’t slip on the ice this time, it’s completely different.” Anything to show he was fine.

She reached for her phone and called 9-1-1 right away. He lied down on his back, his eyes unfocused, but at least he was looking at her, breathing. That was a start. His face contorted in some kind of expression she thought could be an attempt at a smile, ruined by how much pain he must’ve been in. She brushed her fingers on his cheek, hoping to comfort him.

               “Help is coming, Brian, just hold on. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re with me, Brian? Hold on. Please. For me.”

When his eyes fluttered shut to not open again, no matter how hard she tried to get any kind of response from him, it felt as though her own heart stopped. Thankfully, she could feel both of their heartbeats going, hers fast as she worried he might’ve broken his back or something even worse, his slow but steady. His breathing was ragged, likely from the shock the fall had on his lungs, but at least it was there.

As she waited for the ambulance to get there, what felt like an eternity later but was in reality only a few minutes, she concentrated on the fact he was still alive. She never let go of his wrist, his pulse grounding her in that important part of reality. She wanted to pull him closer, to hold him warm and close in her arms, but she knew moving him risked making matters worse. So she settled for his hand and his wrist.

The paramedics finally got there. They put a collar on him, tried unsuccessfully to wake him up. When they started moving him, it turned out his arm was broken under him. The bone was poking out. They reset it, put it in a brace and moved Brian to the gurney. They carried him away toward the ambulance and Rebecca found herself frozen in place. She couldn’t help her eyes locking on the patch of red snow he left behind.

One of the paramedics came back, put a hand on her shoulder and asked, ever so lightly, if she wanted to ride with them. She nodded and wiped a tear that had been about to escape her. They told her it was alright to hold his hand and she did. Feeling the warmth of his skin, and his pulse still, brought her just the smallest bit of comfort as they drove to the hospital.

He would be alright. He had to be.

               “It’s okay to let your feelings show, Rebecca. You can’t keep everything inside.” Naz said, after the both of them sat in silence for half an hour, waiting for news it was still too early for.

               “I need to be strong for Brian.”

               “You know that’s not what he’d want.”

               “It seems like if I let myself feel, I’ll break and will never be able to pick myself back up again.”

               “See, that’s the problem. You don’t have to pick yourself back up. I’m here, Boyle’s here, Mike and Ike are here, the Finches are on their way. We’re all here for you. Let us in.”

               “What if he doesn’t make it?”

Her voice broke and Naz pulled her into a hug. She let herself relish in the comforting gesture. She even let herself cry for a little while. It brought her some relief, maybe more than she’d admit.

She was woken by Naz shaking her shoulder. She couldn’t remember when she managed to fall asleep, or who put their coat over her. She looked up, the sight of the doctor standing in front of her quickly ridding her of the haze of sleep.

               “Rebecca Harris?”

               “It’s me. Is Brian okay?”

               “Yes. We managed to repair the damage to his back, there was nothing too major. He arrested during surgery, but he’s stable now. He’ll need a lot of rest, no climbing up a roof anytime soon. Bed rest for a week, and he’ll have to wear the cast on his arm for at least 6 weeks, probably more. But he will make a full recovery.”

               “Can I see him?”

               “Of course.”

Brian smiled when she entered the room. He was laying there, his eyes foggy and heavy from all the painkillers keeping him comfortable, but his face still lit up as soon as she walked in. She couldn’t stop herself from doing the same. She was so relieved. As hurt as he was, as tired as he was, his spirit was still good.

               “I held on.”

His voice sounded rough, but right now it was the best thing she could ever hope to hear. She approached slowly, hesitant as she sat next to him on the bed, afraid the movement would cause him pain. He let his head fall on her shoulder, a sigh of relief escaping his lips when she carefully wrapped an arm around him. He intertwined their fingers, his strong grip all the reassurance she needed to know he was fine.

               “I love you.” He breathed.

               “I love you too.” She answered.

He smiled and cuddled in closer. She had been rubbing his back for less than five minutes when he fell asleep. She followed not long after. Nothing like feeling his warmth against her, knowing he was safe, to make all her worries go away. They were both alright and now they could rest together.