#I SWEAR ILL CATCH UP ILL TRY TO CATCH UP BEFORE THESE EPISODES DROP

[camvrin]

@mo0ndr0p JAKE

IM SHAKING

(Murder Drones Season Finale Teaser from the GlitchX stream)

SPRING 2024

HOOOLLLYYYYYYYY THIS IS GONNA BE BRUUUUUTAL

[anders-hawke]

Signs

Episode: “Je Souhaite” | Rated M | @today-in-fic | Warning: if any of the symptoms of pregnancy are squicky for you, it would be best to avoid this fic. Also, a reminder that we use Fahrenheit in the U.S., so don’t freak out at the wonky temperature stuff, my Celsius loaves.

Scully feels a little guilty for sending Mulder home last night after teasing him all day about what she was going to do to him in bed, but she blames her upset stomach on being “forced” to skip lunch that day. Scully had waved him off after three hours of on and off vomiting, feeling like she sent the entirety of her pizza and soda into the toilet.

She’d sent him back to his apartment so he’d stop hovering, his incessant chatter only magnifying the headache beginning to build at the base of her skull.

Mulder had called as soon as he got home, leaving a voicemail for her to please not come in tomorrow if she’s still sick. Well, Scully had fortunately felt right as rain when she woke up, aside from the minimal gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She regrets eating two bagels with lox and her real cream cheese now. This must be her punishment for breaking the rule of saving it for the fair amount of bad mornings she encounters. Her stomach’s mutinying again at the smell of Mulder’s black coffee and she can feel another toilet session coming on.

“Oh, God,” Scully whispers, all intent to apologize and press a soft kiss to his lips going out the proverbial door as she sprints out the real one and hauls ass to the bathroom.

She must have a stomach bug, Scully reasons, trying to even out her breathing as she folds some paper towels and wets them before pressing them against her face and neck. She’s suddenly feeling strangely hot, evidence of her sick flushed away.

Mulder knocks three times on the bathroom door. “Scully?”

“Yeah?” she sends back, splashing her face with water. She groans as she feels another gag coming on.

“I brought you some ginger ale and—and some Pepto Bismol. And Tums. I know you don’t like the Pepto but, you know, I figured this called for all the stops.”

She can imagine the look on his face as he hears her vomiting again. Scully checks her watch when it’s over. It’s still only 8:27 in the fucking morning!? How the hell is she supposed to make it through the rest of the workday like this?

The door hinges creak and she looks over at Mulder. “I told you not to come in if you’re still sick, Scully.”

“I wasn’t! I felt fine this morning, and then I walked in the office and smelled your coffee and...”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms, puckering his lips as part of his exaggerated thinking face. Scully stands up straight and shoots him a look. Mulder shakes his head and puts his hands up. “Look, all I’m saying is that it looks like the same thing happened last night. As soon as we got out the ice cream, you bolted to the bathroom.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “What are you getting at, Mulder?”

“Just that you should go home and at least take a nap or something. If you stay off your feet for a few hours and relax, I’ll be happy. Nibble on some crackers, catch a soap opera...” Mulder shrugs. “You’re clearly sick, Scully. If not for yourself, do it on the chance that it’s contagious.”

Scully places the wet paper towel on the back of her neck, holding it there. “Fine. But only because it might be contagious.”

“I mean—that doesn’t make it better, but thank you nonetheless. Do you want me to drive you? What if there’s a random smell that sets you off on the ride there?”

She rolls her eyes but tells him, “Fine.”

—

Mulder’s assertion that certain smells have been setting off whatever’s going on with her stomach seem to be proven true when she comes back to the office after a few hours of rest and relaxation to the harsh sight of a man whose... whose mouth suddenly disappeared and had to be surgically recreated. Not a twinge from her stomach aside from shock butterflies.

Scully’s relieved that she’s been able to keep down her lunch. To be fair, it was crackers with a little cheese and a full two cups of water to make sure she was hydrated, but any food is good food. She proudly announces to Mulder during their ensuing flight the next day that it seems whatever illness hit is gone.

—

It’s not cold in Creve Coeur, Missouri—certainly not in Spring—but Scully’s feeling every degree of the breeze through the open windows like it’s in the thirties. She’s shivering the entire car ride to the Mark Twain Trailer Park, and noticeably enough for Mulder to glance at her with concern before putting up the windows and turning the heat up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

He frowns at that but lets it go until they hit a red light, when he leans over and presses his hand to her forehead.

Scully quirks her lips in a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your temperature,” he replies. “You don’t seem to have a fever...”

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she insists, leaning into his hand for the few seconds she gets the light turns green.

“Alright, but if you’re still sick, Scully, then you have to promise me that you’ll go back to the motel, okay? I brought the meds just in case, if you need them.”

She smiles softly and places her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“It’s what a good boyfriend does.”

—

Her stomach bug really does seem to be gone, which is a relief. However, she’s now insatiably hungry for two things: Mulder, and the bagels from the bagel place two streets over from her apartment. Well, she consoles, one is attainable, at least. And, boy, does she attain it. They’re both breathing heavily by the time Scully’s through with him, and even though they’re sticky with sweat, she curls her body around Mulder’s anyway.

Her breasts are tingly, which has never happened after sex before, but she chalks it up to Mulder’s harsh treatment of her only a minute ago as she nuzzles his chest. She inhales and sighs happily. “I love the way you smell,” she murmurs.

He laughs and she feels it against her cheek. “Coming from the woman who made me start using a different deodorant,” he jokes, squeezing his arm around her shoulders. “Your nipples are darker.”

“What?” Scully props herself up with her forearm to make proper eye contact as her brows furrow.

“Yeah. I don’t know. They’re darker. Feel a little heavier, too. You didn’t notice?”

She shakes her head and laughs. “Unlike you, Mulder, I don’t spend hours studying my boobs.”

He shrugs and rolls them over so he’s hovering over her on his forearms. “Your loss.”

—

“Fuck,” she swears, digging around in her suitcase, fresh from her shower. She’s only got one hand because the other’s holding her towel wrap together.

“What?” Mulder asks around his toothbrush, exiting the bathroom. His tie is slung behind his neck and his suit jacket is waiting for him on the bed.

“I don’t have any panty liners.”

“Do you want me to go out and get some?” he asks, heading back to the bathroom to spit.

“Yeah, that would be great.” Scully walks past him into the still-warm bathroom and lets the towel drop as she uses the one wrapped around her hair to dry the wet strands.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She drops the hair towel when he takes the singular step needed in the tiny motel bathroom to invade her space in favor of pulling him down for a kiss by the ends of his tie. “Mmm, settle down or the plan’ll be botched.”

“I was just thanking you,” Scully says, affecting innocence as she does his tie for him.

“For buying you panty liners? What would happen if I surprised you with some ice cream?”

“I would eat the ice cream.”

“Damn.” Mulder presses a kiss to the top of her head before heading out to put on his suit jacket. “Do you mind me asking why you need panty liners? Also! What brand?”

“Any with wings. And I need them because there’s been an unusual amount of vaginal discharge in my underwear and I don’t want to ruin any more of them.”

“Right.” He steps back in view of the bathroom and takes in her naked body.

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

(Their books on pregnancy are buried inside their storage closets from a time best forgotten.)

“Nothing. I just like looking at you.”

She smiles at him, drying her hair again. “Get going, hotshot.”

—

Halfway through the flight home, Scully discovers something that makes her a bit worried. She’s not supposed to get her period until next week, so the blood on the liner she quickly tosses away with shaky hands can’t be because of that. She tries to forget about it as she walks back to her seat next to Mulder, but he must see something on her face that prompts him to ask if she’s okay.

“I’m fine,” she lies, managing to give him a smile. “Just tired.”

He seems to accept that and leaves her be. It’s not even a lie; she feels exhausted after everything that happened over the past few days. Scully makes a mental note to book an emergency appointment with her Ob-Gyn when they land, and closes her eyes.

—

“Dana,” Dr. Namin starts, disrupting her patient’s thumb twiddling.

Scully abruptly stands up as her doctor moves to stand in front of the exam table, computer and several documents in hand. “You don’t look concerned,” she says, following Namin to the exam table.

“Because there’s nothing to be concerned about at this stage except plenty of rest, hydration, and eating at least three good meals a day,” Scully’s doctor replies, opening up her computer and spreading out the documents. “We’ve done all the tests you asked for, but nothing came up. However, based on the symptoms you listed, I performed one more, and that’s where we found the culprit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pregnant, Dana. Plain and simple. Congratulations.” Dr. Namin slides one of the documents towards Scully, who takes it. “You’re about three and a half weeks along. You can take all the papers. There’s suggestions for all the prenatal vitamins you’ll need to take and how much water to drink in a day. Resources for managing symptoms, too.”

Scully nods dumbly, tears gathering in her eyes as she stares at the diagnosis. “Um, when should I come back?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, I’ll have someone give you a call with that information. Just relax and enjoy the news. I remember how much you wanted this, Dana. I...I don’t know how this happened, but the baby’s doing well. Minor bleeding is completely normal and you don’t need to worry. If it gets worse or doesn’t stop soon, then come back.”

“Okay,” Scully chokes out, smiling widely as she wipes away her tears and collects the documents on the exam table.

—

She spends a few hours at her apartment trying to figure out how to tell Mulder the good news but gets nowhere. In the middle of pacing around her couch, one arm unconsciously wrapped around her abdomen, her phone starts ringing.

“Scully speaking.”

“Agent Scully,” Skinner starts, and she immediately knows that Mulder’s done something stupid again, “could you check on Agent Mulder? He snuck into my meeting and was yelling at my chair.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Scully hangs up the phone and sighs heavily. Looks like God’s giving her a sign to just get it over with. When she enters the office, however, the woman Mulder keeps insisting is a genie is there, too. She licks her lips nervously and tries to ignore her.

“Skinner called me, Mulder. Is everything alright?”

Sitting at the desk, computer on, she has to wonder what he’s doing. “You don’t remember disappearing off the face of the Earth for an hour this morning?”

She gives her head a small shake as she tells him, “No,” truly starting to get concerned.

Mulder just shrugs with a little smile and gets back to typing with a nonchalant, “Well, I guess everything’s okay.”

Get it out, just say it, she thinks, trying to psych herself up. She sighs. “Mul—” But the woman’s still there in the office. “Could you give us a minute, please?”

“Sure,” the woman—Jenn, Mulder told her on the plane—says with a nod.

Scully steps closer to the desk, butterflies in her stomach. Jenn isn’t moving, and it’s making her annoyed, quite frankly. “Like, today?” she says, turning around, but the black-haired woman is nowhere to be found, not even in the annex. Scully turns back to her partner, extremely confused. “Where the hell’d she go?”

Mulder childishly imitates a genie disappearing and she feels the sudden urge to laugh at the thought that this man is the father of her child. “No...” she says, softening the guffaw trying to escape to a scoff-laugh. “It’s gotta—” She scoffs for real this time. “It’s gotta be hypnotism, or—or mesmerism, or something.”

And thus begins the verbal sparring. As he lists all the things he wants for the world, Scully thinks, again, of how this is the father of her child. Something suspiciously soft is trying to emerge from her heart as she responds, and she’s a coward to boot, so she leaves without telling him. Driving back to her apartment, Scully feels guilty at how little effort she put into trying to break the news to Mulder. She just—she doesn’t know what to make of the news herself, let alone how to explain it to him.

An hour into The Exorcist, hugging a pillow as she wishes Mulder was watching it with her, the phone rings. “Scully, do you wanna come over and watch a movie? I’ve got your favorite popcorn...”

She grins. “Of course. I’ll bring the drinks.”

—

They’ve both changed their clothes for the movie night, and when Mulder opens the door, they’re sporting matching grins. “Oh, zero alcohol content?” he faux complains, taking the case of six drinks into the kitchen. “Is this your punishment for me, Scully?”

She elects not to respond as she follows him and takes out the package of popcorn and a pot. “Can you grab the olive oil, Mulder?”

“Yeah, of course.” He puts four of the drinks in the fridge before reaching into one of the cabinets to grab the oil and put it on the counter next to the stove, which Scully’s turning it on.

“I’ll never understand why you won’t just microwave them. It’s faster.”

“Yeah, but if you do it in the pot, it tastes better,” she shoots back, opening the package and pouring the kernels into the pot.

“That’s just because of the oil.”

“Well, you can continue to eat shitty popcorn for the rest of your life if you want, but I’m going to eat my good popcorn.”

They turn to face each other as the kernels pop and hit the lid, a staring contest beginning. Scully wins when she licks her lips and distracts Mulder enough to get him to blink.

“Ha! I got you! I win!”

“That’s cheating!”

“I won!” she says in a sing-song voice, emptying the finished popcorn into the bowl.

Mulder shakes his head with a smile. “Why don’t you take the drinks and get comfortable. I’ll finish the popcorn.”

Scully nods and does as he suggests, but as she’s crossing into the living room, she pauses and turns around. “No butter, please,” she says, and he turns around with a scoop of butter in a bowl in his right hand, the handle of the microwave in the other.

“No... butter...?” She nods. “We always put butter on the popcorn, Scully.”

“Well, I don’t want butter this time,” she says, and makes her way to the couch, sitting down and placing the drinks on the coffee table. She hears Mulder sigh heavily and put the bowl of butter in the fridge before making his way to the living room, bowl of popcorn in hand.

He shakes his head as he grabs the movie case from the table and inserts it into the player. “Can’t believe you don’t want butter on your popcorn. Eugh. It’s un-American.” He steps around the table and sits down next to Scully.

She takes the case from where he left it and makes a face. “Caddyshack, Mulder?” she questions.

“It’s a classic American movie,” he insists, grabbing his drink and propping his feet up.

“That’s what every guy says.” Scully grabs her own and untwists the cap, tossing it onto the table. Mulder does the same, but his bounces off onto the floor, and she laughs into the bottle. “So, uh... What’s the occasion?” she asks, as if they still take the justifying movie nights thing seriously.

Last week’s was I thought you might need some help feeding your fish.

“I don’t know. Just felt like the thing to do. Cheers.”

Maybe it is time to turn over a new leaf, especially considering the baby growing inside her, cell by cell. They clink their bottles—“Cheers,” she says—and drink. Tell him, tell him, tell hi—

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I, um, never made the world a happier place.”

They nod together and Scully knows that this is the moment to tell him. She takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m fairly happy. That’s something.” A smile slides onto her face and she looks at him, a lot more than fairly happy now. “Actually, I’m ecstatic.” She gives a little laugh and reaches into her pocket for the piece of paper she’d stared at for hours earlier.

“Really? Is there a specific reason, or...?”

Scully pulls the paper out and looks at the blue highlighted text on the portion of the paper that’s not folded back for a moment before handing it to Mulder. “That’s why,” she says, voice trembling a little out of happiness.

She watches his face as the words sink in. He reads it again, murmuring, “Diagnosis: pregnancy (3.5 weeks),” as he does so, a grin spreading across his lips. “Scully...”

“I know,” she says, setting her bottle on the table, and before Mulder can say anything else, she cups his cheeks and kisses him, unwilling to fight the urge.

“Scully, this is wonderful!” He laughs joyously and kisses her again, setting the paper and his drink on the table. “I’m so happy.” He brings her into his embrace and buries his face in her shoulder for a long moment, both of them starting to cry. He suddenly pulls away and puts his hand on her abdomen under her shirt, his other arm still wrapped around Scully.

“I love you,” she tells him.

“I love you, too,” he replies.

[kaminobiwan]

father figure

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader (though there’s not much jedi-ing just dumbassery on Obi’s part)

summary: Obi-Wan feels unneeded. You’re there to remind him he’s not. Idk how to summarize hahdjfn

a/n: I just love this scene from episode III so much, it’s my hc that it’s happened before. This is my first fic I’m ever posting in my six years of tumblr! I’m so excited to share it with you guys. Feedback and comments are incredibly welcome, and I’m always here for a chat! I hope you guys enjoy :-)

Obi-Wan is no stranger to failure.

In fact, depending on the point of view, he was quite familiar with it - his years as a youngling held many a blunder, and one didn’t reach the status as a well-respected Jedi Master without learning from many, many mistakes.

Still, he can’t help but admit that the feeling of messing up utterly sucked.

His former student, on the other hand, seems to be perfectly amicable with the experience - if he even stopped to acknowledge the instances in the first place. Even at 20 years old, Anakin is as nonchalant as ever when it comes to getting caught in a sticky situation.

Like right now, as the pair of them dangle from an absurdly long curtain out of the window of a Coruscanti high rise, 80-some floors in the air.

Obi-Wan struggles against the breeze and tightens his grip around Anakin’s neck, biting back a groan. Normally, he’d have the sense to feel embarrassed clinging to his Padawan like a human backpack, but his head is still spinning from a backhanded hit from a Devaronian - the very blow that had sent him and Anakin crashing through the window, at the mercy of the expensive fabric that shaded every room of the building they were currently hanging from.

“How’re you holding up, Master?” Anakin grunts, and Obi-Wan is unsure if the pun is intended or not. He decides to ignore it entirely.

“This is why I always tell you to think these plans through -“ a gust of wind ruffles both of their hair, “so we don’t end up in such predicaments.”

He wishes he could have one uneventful week on leave. It’s not enough that his time on the frontlines looks to have no foreseeable end, but even between missions, trouble seems to follow his makeshift family to the capital city. He only hopes Ahsoka is studying in the archives as he’d instructed her to before Anakin had dragged him away to pursue a pair of slythmongers meeting at a swanky hotel in the derrick major.

Apparently, he had overheard the details of the transaction on his way back from a lunch out - from the Senate District, no less - and had been on his merry way before his old master had stopped him. Obi-Wan was pretty sure Anakin was trying to find any excuse to get out of his scheduled session to train the younglings at the temple, but he couldn’t argue against interrupting a smuggling ring, especially when it had to do with drugs. He still remembered the havoc that had followed when Vos and Aayla had been forced to take glitteryll and had temporarily lost their memories...

And if there’s one thing Obi-Wan hates, it’s letting Anakin throw himself in the path of danger under his watch. Force knows that boy will drag Obi-Wan to an early, stress-filled grave.

Anakin pauses before speaking. “Master, this was your idea.”

Right - that too.

“My idea was to wait and see if we could catch the person that orchestrated the deal along with the smugglers, to have patience,” he tries not to sound too defensive, but multitasking while trying to find a foothold on the slippery glass of the window pane is near impossible, and maintaining his usually cool exterior is not a price he’s willing to pay for falling to his death. He isn’t sure he could use the Force to break his fall with a mild concussion.

“Honestly, Master, I appreciate your help, but you really didn’t have to come.” Anakin’s metal fingers flex around the curtain. “My arms are getting a little tired holding the both of us.”

Obi-Wan bristles at the comment. “We wouldn’t even be in this situation if you hadn’t snuck off to see Senator Amidala during her afternoon recess.”

“Yes, and there would still be an illegal drug deal happening right now, so I’m not sure I’m getting your point.”

“My point is,” he snaps, readjusting his grip, “none of this will have been worth it if one of them wakes up and finds us in such a comprising position.” Obi-Wan knows he dropped his lightsaber before the fall. Judging by both of Anakin’s hands gripping the curtain fabric - that is positively straining under the burden of their weight - his saber is either in the room as well, or smashed to irreparable bits on the ground below. Obi-Wan groans internally. Wouldn’t be the first time.

He feels Anakin tense under him, and his hair itches Obi-Wan’s face as he tilts his head up. “Well, we’re about to test that theory, because someone’s coming.” Anakin’s voice is tinged with unpunctual worry as Obi-Wan finally senses the rapid footsteps towards the shattered window. Maker, he got hit hard.

But he’s sure he can recognize the familiar presence anywhere, and sure enough, your head pops out of the window as he swallows his enlivenment down with a smile.

“What,” you stare down at the both of them, and Obi-Wan is sure that the view must be positively comical from where you’re standing, “are you doing?”

You’re much less happier to see them than Obi-Wan is to see you, and he wonders if your incredulous exasperation is directed towards him or Anakin. Probably both.

“Waiting for you to save the day, of course,” he quips. You snort in response, and he notes the glow of your hair in the mid-afternoon sunlight. If you weren’t looking like you were completely done with him, and his head wasn’t throbbing incessantly, and he wasn’t dangling hundreds of feet in the air, he might have admired the sight of you.

He always did have a penchant for having ill-timed observations.

Anakin interrupts his thought with a strained plea for assistance before you finally reach your hand out to grab his flesh one, though not before shaking your head.

“I swear, it’ll be your own stupidity that will kill you two before the war does.” Though your voice is stern, Obi-Wan can see the affectionate relief in your eyes as he’s pulled up by the both of you. “And you can bet that I won’t always be there to save your sorry skins.”

Yep, Obi-Wan thinks, it’s both.

———

It’s a short ride back to the temple in the air taxi you’d commandeered on the way to their rescue, though how you’d even known to come, Obi-Wan has no clue. He’d been sent to the back seat while Anakin occupied the passenger beside you, meekly tinkering with his mechno-arm with the occasional guilty glance back at his master. Though you’d been humoured upon finding them in the hotel, you’d been silent the whole ride, save for a tired demand of Anakin’s recap of the disastrous operation. Though, to their credit - they had successfully apprehended the slythmongers present. Even if it was only because you’d arrived with the police.

Obi-Wan knows that despite you being the midpoint between his and Anakin’s ages, Anakin still sees you as a substitute parent, especially since you’d been the one to comfort the former Padawan in his worst hours of homesickness. Despite no longer being the same innocent child from Tatooine, Anakin still hates to disappoint you. It’s written all over his face, clear as day for Obi-Wan to see.

What he can’t tell, however, is if you are as disappointed as your silence suggests. You certainly don’t look mad, but you haven’t met his gaze since you’d pulled him from the window.

It’s starting to get to him too.

Soon, you’ve arrived at the Temple, docking smoothly to a stop as Anakin turns to you with a rare look of remorse. “Thanks for saving our skins back there, Master.” His tone is sincere, as it always is with you. “Who knows how long we’d have been hanging there if you hadn’t showed up.”

You blink at him in acknowledgment, a corner of your mouth lifting slightly. “As much as I enjoy spending time in the crèche, maybe inform me fully the next time you ask me to cover a training session so you can run off to fight crime?”

Anakin nods enthusiastically, and sends Obi-Wan one last look before reaching for the door to leave.

“Be sure to report to Master Yoda so he can reschedule your instruction slot,” you call as he exits the speeder. “You’ll learn to handle the younglings yet, Skywalker.”

And then, you’re alone. And he’s nervous.

Not necessarily because of your uncharacteristic demeanor, though he is still trying to get a read on you. More than that, he’s on edge with the same nagging feeling he always gets when he’s around you, amplified whenever the two of you are by yourselves. While you’re the person Obi-Wan feels most at ease with, at home with - he also can’t deny the persistent tug that pulls his heart towards you every time you look his way.

But right now, you’re not. You’re gazing at the distant traffic ahead of you, gently tapping the bend of your elbow. Obviously deep in thought.

Obi-Wan stares at you from his seat, unsure whether to speak first. “Thank you,” he begins, “not just for the save. You could have been much harsher with him, and you weren’t. I appreciate it.”

“From what I heard, Obi-Wan, you’re just as much to blame for that spectacular plan,” your voice is much sharper now, and Obi-Wan winces at the irony that he’s just thanked you for the lenience you’re now depriving him of. “If not more.”

He knows he shouldn’t push you while you’re like this. He can tell you’re bothered, but why, he doesn’t know. Why are you so concerned?

“To be fair, I couldn’t let Anakin go charging in alone.”

“Honestly, I thought you’d know better than to try and stop him by now.”

He can’t help the surprise that paints his face as his eyes flash up to yours. It certainly isn’t what he’d expected you to say. “What?”

Finally, finally, you turn sideways in your seat and your gaze meets his, and even though he’s as confused as he’s ever been around you, the sight of your eyes is enough to placate him a fraction. Still, he’s bewildered at your statement. He clears his throat before speaking again. “You expect me to just let him loose on the galaxy? The boy’s only just become a knight, and only because of the need sparked by the war.”

“That’s exactly the point, Obi, he’s a knight,” you’re quick to reply, though your expression softens as you utter the nickname. “You can’t be looming over his shoulder anymore. You shouldn’t be. Force’s sake, he’s got a Padawan of his own now.”

“Only just,” Obi-Wan replies stubbornly, and later he’ll chalk it up to the concussion for his behavior. But deep down, he knows you’re right. He’d been inserting himself into Anakin’s missions. And until now, he hadn’t recognized the reason why.

Anakin had grown up.

Anakin had grown up, and he didn’t need him anymore.

Obi-Wan was well aware that he’d trained the boy as best he could. The pride that engulfed him every time he looked at Anakin was no secret, especially to you. But there would always be the painful reminder of abandonment along with it, almost as persistent as his fondness for you. Those feelings, at least, were kept hidden down deep. He still had a reputation to maintain, after all, but it’s hard to combat your incessant empathy. Not that he’s complaining.

You reach for his hand where it’s gripping the back of your seat. “Oh, Obi-Wan,” your voice is a murmur that has him leaning forwards to hear. “I know.” You fix with a firm look, as if you’re repeating the words with your gaze. He swears you can see right through him. You’ve always been better at emotions between the two of you.

“Promise me,” you blink at him with knowing eyes, “that you’ll end the secret chaperoning. Otherwise, he’ll never get over his father figure issues with you.”

“His - what?” Obi-Wan blurts out for the second time, and you pull away and laugh. A beat passes before you shake your head again.

“Don’t tell me you’re not aware, Obi. We don’t have the time to walk through it. You should be with the healers by now.” You shift to exit the speeder as well, and he finds himself chasing your hand before moving to leave himself. You approach a Padawan on the platform and instruct him to return the taxi with payment as Obi-Wan regains his composure and falls in line with you towards the Temple.

“You know, I don’t remember you claiming the role of the ‘responsible one’,” he jokes, despite the dull buzz in his head. He feels lighthearted now, better, even.

You smile softly at him, but he can tell you’re suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. “We rotate the duty around. Maker knows you’re not actually the goody-two-shoes Master Yoda thinks you are, joining your Padawan’s escapades the first chance you get. Do I need to remind you why you had to cut off the mullet?”

“Because you like me better with short hair?” He grins boyishly back at you, pushing down the desire to touch hands again. “I do promise, you know. No more trying to reign him in. I suppose the day was bound to come when he’d leave me behind.”

He smothers the twinge of regret with an amused tone, but still, he knows you sense it. He’s thankful, anyhow. There never was a need for explanations with you.

“He’ll always need you, Obi-Wan. We all will.” You punctuate the comment with a lingering pat on his arm, and Obi-Wan’s heart tugs again. No attachments, a voice in his head reminds him.

But he hopes it’s true what you say. He’d hate to see you leave him behind, too.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Leave No One Behind C9: Doctors Orders Part 2

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Episode Summary: Hannah has a cold and of course Ari takes it upon himself to look after her. Once that little obstacle is out of the way trouble finds them once again on the morning of her birthday…and hell breaks loose at the Red Sea Diving Resort.

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW no under18s)

Episode Pairings:  Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Catch up with Part 1 first…

Hannah stirred, stretching a little. She couldn’t feel Simon at the end of the bed by her feet. Expecting him to be behind her, tucked into the crook of her back as he sometimes did, she turned giving a small start as it wasn’t Simon behind her but Ari, the pup in question curled around his head. Hannah blinked again, Ari hadn’t been there when she had gone to sleep. There had been too many people out late last night and Sammy was still watching her like a hawk after her illness. She lay still, taking a few minutes to drink him in as he slept. His hair was falling slightly over his forehead, the moonlight falling onto his face highlighting his nose and bearded cheek a little where his eyelashes lay flush to his skin. Smiling, she poked Simon to get him to move.

“Sorry Si, but he’s my man. Move.”

Simon gave a little whine of protest but obeyed, getting up to move. But despite Hannah’s efforts to keep as quiet as possible, the noise and movement had woken Ari up. He stretched his limbs out, and then gave a little sigh as Hannah nuzzled closer, kissing his jaw line.

“You have a nightmare Lobo?” she asked softly.

“Yeah about Dogzilla digging his paws into my eye sockets.” Ari mumbled, as he could feel Simon flop down at the end of the bed. Hannah chuckled as he reached out, eyes still closed, one arm sliding underneath her neck, the other gently laying against her hip where it slid up her cami top, palm warm against her skin.

“What are you doing here Ari?” he heard her ask.

“Sleeping?” he said, the inflection in his voice making it sound like a question.  He felt her shift again, her fingers reaching up and brushing through his beard. He leaned into her touch just like Simon did when he was scratching his ears.

“You know you could have just asked right?” she said gently “You didn’t need to sneak in in the middle of the night.”

“I didn’t sneak in…”

“Ok, whatever you say” she laughed.

Ari pouted a little “I just wanted to surprise you after midnight.” He cracked his eyes open and smiled at her.

She frowned “Midnight? What-“  and then it dawned on her. If it was after midnight, it was her birthday. Her eyes widen a little and Ari smiled and gave a little nod.

“Happy birthday Firefly.” He whispered.

Hannah felt herself welling up “Did you…” She choked a little “Did you just sneak in here to…”

Ari grinned, “I wanted to be the first person to wish you happy birthday.”

Hannah spluttered a laugh “You soft bastard.” She licked her lips and looked at him, almost shyly “Thanks Mi Lobo.”

Ari reached up to gently lay his palm against her cheek, thumb skating her cheekbone “You’re welcome. I had 8 missed birthdays to make up for. We’ve come a long way since that party on your 21st”

“1385 miles give or take…that is if you don’t count all the other stuff in between.” She grinned and Ari shook his head and let out a sigh.

“Don’t be a smart ass firefly. I was trying to be romantic.”

“Romance is overrated…” Hannah grinned, pushing closer to him and sliding her leg between both his, arching an eyebrow as she realised he was naked. His fingers flexed on her hip and he mimicked her expression.

“Is that so?” he teased. She nodded, her hand sliding up his arm.

“Yup.” She popped the p.

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll just go then…” Ari smirked, his face dipping towards hers.

“Don’t think so lobo…you’re my birthday gift.” Her hand slid back down his arms and she dipped it under the covers, and round to grab at his bare ass. “Although I’m pretty pissed I don’t get to unwrap it. Couldn’t you have worn a big red bow or something?”

“Ungrateful brat.” Ari mumbled as his lips press to hers. It wasn’t long before their bodies were melded together and soft breathy moans and gasps filled the air. Ari took his time, lavishing affection on his girl, his pace soft and slow right to the end. Exhausted and satiated they fell asleep, cuddled together, Ari’s arms wrapped around Hannah, her head tucked under his chin pressed into his chest.

She must have moved during the night as when Ari woke her back was pressed to his chest, his face buried into her hair.  Keeping his eyes closed, he snuggled in closer and she stirred a little, her hand moving and laying over his which was splayed on her stomach.

“Morning” Hannah spoke little groggily and he kissed her neck.

“Morning baby.” He greeted her.

The two of them lay there, Hannah’s fingers playing gently with his when voices drifted through the lattice covers over the window. Hannah stilled and Ari let out a sigh.

Fucking tourists…fucking people…damned it!

“Hannah…” he started to suggest that he needed to go before any of the team started milling about but she cut him off.

“I’m done Ari.”

“What?” Ari asked, his voice a whisper as for a split second he thought she meant with him. But as she turned to face him, he saw the expression on her face and knew what she was going to say before she said it.

“Sneaking around.” She shook her head “I’m done.”

Ari looked at her as the magnitude of what she had just said sunk in “You sure you wanna do this today?”

“Why?” she countered “Don’t you?”

“If it was up to me we would have come clean the day after our first night Firefly.” Ari brushed her hair behind her ear “But it’s your birthday. Your 30th…I don’t want it ruined by Sammy’s inevitable melt down.”

“Why does he have to be such a pain in the ass?” Hannah rolled her eyes and moved out of Ari’s arms. She climbed out of bed, pulling on her cami and sleep shorts as Ari sighed.

“He’s being a big brother.” He said, still feeling the need to defend his best friend. He watched Hannah for a moment as she grabbed a hair tie and pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail.

“Ok.” She turned to Ari, decision made. “Tomorrow. We tell him tomorrow. Then he has just over a week to chill the fuck out before the next mission.”

Ari nodded “Ok.”

Hannah smiled as Ari kicked the covers off himself, leaving them tangled by her feet. Simon gave a start and started to scramble out of them, glaring a Ari as he dropped to the floor shaking. Hanna smirked as she looked from Simon to Ari, biting her lip.

“Stop it.” He shook his head with a grin “I need to go…preferably without a boner because of the fact that I’m imagining the filthy thoughts you’re having right now.”

She grinned as he picked up his shorts, and slipped them on. He grabbed his shirt off the floor and she walked over to give him a quick kiss.

“See you at breakfast.” He smiled against her mouth. But Hannah was clearly in a playful mood, and it was hard not to get caught in it. She wrapped her arms round his neck and kept placing lingering pecks on his lips as he backed to the door, the pair of them giggling. “Firefly…” Ari laughed, scrabbling behind him for the door handle “Let me go.”

“It’s my birthday…” she pouted.

“I’m well aware of that…” he eventually found the door handle and pushed it down, moving slightly as he pulled it inwards, feeling it banging against his back, the warm breeze fluttering into the room. “And seeing as you’ve been a good girl, I’ll make sure your presents are waiting at…”

He trailed off as Hannah’s eyes widened and she took a deep breath, her face rearranged in shock and horror and Ari stilled, his face inches from hers as he heard Sammy’s voice.

“Oh fuck, no…just…”

Ari wheeled around so fast that he almost lost his balance, and he stared at Sammy who wore an expression as dark as thunder.

“What the fuck man?” Sammy shoved Ari in the chest “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Sammy, I-“ Ari was cut off by Sammy’s fist connecting with his jaw. The force of the punch sent him sprawling back into the room and he stumbled a little as Hannah gave a yell.

“Sammy!! Stop!” She turned to Ari, who had just regained his balance and was straightening up, his hand wrapped around his jaw, blinking furiously. Hannah’s hand gently moved to his arms and he shook his head

“I’m fine.” He mumbled wiping at the trickle of blood seeping from his split lip. She wheeled round to her brother who was stalking into the room.

“You fucking bastard, Ari! After everything….”

“That’s ENOUGH Sam!” Hannah’s voice was loud “And yes, this is EXACTLY what it looks like.”

Sammy fell silent, the only sound in the hut now was Simon’s growling as he positioned himself next to Hannah who was stood in between Ari and Sam, her face furious as she stared down her brother. Eventually Sammy made an angry noise through his nose and she took a deep breath, turning to Ari.

“Can you leave us Ari?”

Ari frowned, because that was the last thing he wanted to do, “Han, I…”

“Please Lobo.” Her eyes locked onto his and he sighed.

“Ok.” He pulled on his T-shirt and headed to the door, Sammy’s eyes following him as he walked. Just as he was about to leave through the door, Sammy couldn’t resist one final shot.

“What is it with you huh?” he demanded “Why can’t you ever fucking say no to her? You’ve never fucking been able to resist have you?”

Ari stopped, grinding his teeth together and turned to face Sammy “I wouldn’t have ever been in a position where I had to if it hadn’t been for you and Andy in the first place.

“Is this why you brought her here?” Sammy continued, fury clouding his entire face “Thinking you’d get her out to Africa and worm your way back into her fucking affections?”

“Keep going Sammy! Go on.” Ari’s voice was low, almost a growl “Keep fucking pushing me and I swear to God-“

“Ari!” Hannah’s voice cut over his, her tone stern “Just go.”

With one last glare at Sammy he did was he was asked. Once Ari was gone, Hannah rounded on her brother. “You done with you little outburst Sammy, or you wanna say fuck a few more times?” she fumed at him.

“Don’t?” Sammy scoffed “I aint even started yet Hannah! I-“

“Save it Sammy. I don’t wanna hear a single word you have to say.” Hannah cut him off “Not this time. You’re gonna listen to me for a change.” Sammy looked at her, his mouth snapping shut, eyes blazing. “I’m done with you babying me. I’m 30 today for crying out loud so I’m pretty sure I get a say in what I want and how I want it.” She pointed at him “And I’m not letting anyone, not even you get in my way and decide to me. You got it?” she took a breath “If I’m making a mistake only time will tell, but it will be MY mistake, not your fucking manipulation. And if I’m right then good for me.”

Sammy remained silent, his breathing deep. Hannah could tell he was itching to say something but he didn’t so she continued, swallowing slightly before she spoke again.

“Get yourself together and wish me happy birthday which is what you were obviously here to do, being a good big brother and all, and then go and apologise to Ari for being an utter prick. Again.”

At that point Simon gave a bark, punctuating her last sentence perfectly and Sammy frowned “I’m not apologising to that asshole!”

Hannah groaned “Yes, you are. Because that asshole is your best friend.”

“Best friends don’t fuck their best friend’s sisters!!”

“Well, breaking news Sammy, he has. Quite a lot actually.” Sammy growled a little as she shrugged “But if that’s the way you wanna play it, should I tell Rachel to stop fucking my brother? Should I go out there and slap her on her face?”

Hannah could tell from the look on her brother’s face she’d surprised him, a fact that was backed up when he spoke, his voice stuttering “That’s…how do you…” he stopped and shook his head “You know what, it doesn’t matter, it’s irrelevant as it is completely different.”

Hannah gave a derisive laugh and folded her arms “Why is it different? Care to explain Sammy?

Sammy opened his mouth and shut it again. “You just proved my point Sammy.” Hannah sighed and shook her head. “Look, I love you, you’re my brother, but I love him too.”

At that Sammy’s eyes widened and Hannah was pretty sure hers did at well as she’d just admitted that out loud.

“You love him?” Sammy looked at her, blinking.

“Yeah.” She swallowed and took a breath, “We’re not fooling around Sammy if that’s what you think. This is serious, for both of us. We’re not the same two people you messed with nine years ago so if you fuck this up for me again I swear to god I’ll never forgive you. Not this time.”

Sammy stared at her for a moment, before he made an angry noise in his throat and stormed from the hut, slamming the door behind him.

Max and Jake were walking down the beach towards the main building when they saw Sammy storm out of Hannah’s hut and head the opposite way of the resort towards Ari’s, the expression on his face was alarming to say the least.

"What the fuck is that about?" Jake asked confused.

Max was about to reply he had no idea when he suddenly realised what may be going on.

"Ah shit. ANGELA!!!!!" he yelled as he nudged Jake and the two of them set off at a sprint to Ari’s hut.

“We have a situation with Liam and Guy!" he shot over his shoulder at Rachel when she opened her hut's door, alerted by the rumble.

When they saw Sammy barge open the door, they picked up the pace, reaching the hut just as Sammy lunged at Ari again. "You son of a bitch!" he yelled at him once more as he went to throw another punch him, but his time Ari was ready. He anticipated Sammy’s attempt and thus was able to dodge it and gripped Sam's arm, pinning it up his back. Sammy jerked free, his anger propelling him, and went for Ari again. This time Ari lunged forward, he had lost it. 

Jake saw Ari’s contorted face and grabbed hold of Sammy as Max stepped in between them, placing one hand on Ari's chest.

"Say that again. Come on, Sammy!" Ari irked him. “You’ve had one free shot, you won’t get a-fucking-nother”

"You stupid cocky bastard." Sammy spat, trying to wriggle out of Jake's hold. "I'm gonna punch your fucking face till my hand bleeds."

"Sammy, chill man." Jake, who was having a hard time trying to hold Sammy, advised.

"Chill, chill? How can I chill when he’s fucking my sister?" Sammy growled.

The entire place fell quiet. Jake frowned and looked at Sammy, then to Ari, who took a deep breath, and then to Max who looked back at him. The four men were snapped from the thoughts whirling in their minds when a voice could be heard from the doorway. 

“Or maybe your sister is fucking him?”

Everyone turned to see Hannah stood in the entrance, arms folded, with Rachel by her side.

Sammy took advantage of the general commotion and shrugged out of Jake’s hold. Max looked at Ari and he held his hands up, signalling he would behave. 

 "Shut up Hannah." Sammy groaned, rounding on her.

"Hey, don’t talk to her like that." Ari warned him.

Sammy gave a sarcastic laugh before glaring at Ari "Oh, that is so typical of you, isn’t it? Jumping in, playing the goddamned gentleman."

Simon started to bark as Ari and Sammy began their verbal bickering again until Rachel cut in loudly as she clocked the expression on Hannah’s face.

"Ok, that’s enough!"

Everyone looked at her, and she nodded almost imperceptibly in Hannah’s direction but enough for Ari to glance at her and see, to his horror, she now had tears in her eyes. Hannah shook her head and, feeling all his teammates’ eyes on her, looked at the floor before she turned to Sammy and then at Ari taking a deep breath and looking away again.

“Happy fucking birthday to me.”

At that, Sammy dropped his head as Ari pushed past, making no attempt to stop him. Though he was still dying to beat the hell out of his so called best friend, the sight of his sister crying had made him feel really guilty. 

Ari ignored everyone's stares and pulled Hannah into his arms. "Hey firefly, it’s ok…" his hand gently resting on her head as she pushed her face into his chest "Don’t cry, please. I’m sorry."

As he apologised to her his eyes fell on Sammy and shot the man a look. They were not important here, what was important however, was the woman in his arms. Her damned 30th birthday and they were fighting like a couple of school kids. Sammy swallowed and looked at the floor taking a deep breath.

 "Sorry Han."

Hannah pulled back a little and nodded, Ari cupped her face, his thumbs wiping her tears. "You ok?" he asked softly.

She nodded again but she was not smiling. It wasn't fair and the two most important men in her life were to blame Ari thought, as he dropped his hands and turned to Sammy, one hand resting on the lower part of Hannah’s back.

Sammy, whose eyes were fixed on Ari's hand, opened his mouth to say something, but Ari spoke first, his voice as apologetic as he could manage.

"Look, I’m sorry you had to find out like this. We were gonna tell you…"

"Sure you were." Sammy scoffed.

"We were Sammy. Ari wanted to tell you straight away but I was scared of how you would react. Clearly with good reason." Hannah confirmed, her voice still shaky from having cried.

Sammy sighed and chuckled bitterly. "You know, now a lot of things are starting to make sense."

Max and Rachel shared a knowing glance. Jake frowned at them and then he opened his eyes wide. "Did you two know?" he asked looking at them.

Rachel sighed as she knew she was going to be in trouble with Sammy but it was not like she could deny it so she nodded.

Max made a noise and wrinkled his nose. "I guessed."

Sammy glared at Rachel, then at Max. “Did everyone know but me?"

"I didn’t." Jake spoke, somewhat pissed. 

Sammy’s eyes moved to Simon who had now jumped up, his paws on Hannah’s thigh as she reached down, scratching his ears. "Even the fucking dog knew."

Jake frowned at Sammy's comment. "What…you…oh shiiit, he fucked my leg…man that’s…" 

"Shut up, Jake." Ari said sternly.

"This isn’t happening." Sammy groaned.

Rachel took a deep breath before intervening again. "Ok, Max and Jake go supervise the breakfasts for the guests.  Some of them might have already shown up, see they need anything." She then turned to Sammy. "You come with me, let's see if your hand needs patching up." And before Sammy could protest she looked at Hannah, nodding towards Ari. "You better take care of that split lip."

"It’s fine." Ari shook his head.

 "I didn’t hit him that hard." Sammy scoffed.  "You hit him, that’s all that matters." Rachel stated, cutting any more potential bickering as she shoved Sammy in the back towards the door.

"And my hand is fine, I’m a doctor, I know."

"Well there are clearly a lot of things you don’t know." She couldn’t stop herself from jabbing at him, but his bratty comments had her on edge too. Sammy stopped and glared at her. "Sorry, that was uncalled for." she apologised sincerely.

The two of them stood, staring at one another and Rachel nodded towards Ari, almost as if Sammy was a child being told by his mother he had to apologise. But just like a small child would he refused and simply turned and left. Rachel shot them both an exasperated look and headed off after him, closing the door.

Hannah sighed and Ari turned to her, his hands on her hips. "Don’t worry baby, he’ll have to come round sooner or later, coz I’m not going anywhere."

"He might, with any luck." she groaned

"You don’t mean that Han."

Hannah sighed. "No, you’re right, I’m just….I don’t know Ari, I’m angry and upset and…"

"Hey, hey come on…" he comforted her, throwing his arms around her again and kissing her head. They stayed still for a while, his hand rubbing at her back before she eventually moved and looked up at him. 

"Does your face hurt? Do you want me to patch you up?"

Ari shook his head. "It’s ok, I’ve had worse. Now, let’s get you a big ass birthday breakfast. You’re getting old, Firefly." he teased her.

She snorted. "I’ll never be as old as you, mi lobo."

"Ouch…" he said, pouting a little as he connected his hands round the bottom of her back, pulling her closer. "I think I’m pretty spry for my age, don’t you agree?" he asked, giving her a wink.

She laughed, her hands sliding up his chest, linking round his neck. "That’s one word for it."

"And there it is, that gorgeous laugh." Ari smiled and leaned down to give her a soft kiss. "Come on, let’s go. And I’m warning you, I fully intend on sitting next to my girl."

At that Hannah couldn't help but beam at him. "About damned time." Ari took her hand in his and led her out of the hut. For the first time they walked up the sand, publicly, with their fingers laced together and Ari could swear it felt good, it felt more than good actually.

When they arrived at the breakfast table everyone was waiting for them and Rachel had lit a birthday candle on a cinnamon bun.

"There she is, happy birthday!”

Max grinned and started singing, as did Jake and Sammy, some of the guests joining in singing and clapping from their tables. Ari stole a quick look at his best friend, whose eyes flickered to him and gave him a filthy look, before they moved back to Hannah. Ari understood that instantly to mean that this was simply a temporary truce for Hannah’s sake, but at that point he didn’t care. All he was bothered about was Hannah being able to enjoy her day.

"Oh my god this is so embarrassing." she said as she blushed and tried to cover her face with the hand that Ari wasn't holding.

Max grinned.  "Yup."

Simon, not at all amused at the lack of attention he was suffering that day, let out a whine and pawed at Ari’s leg. He looked down at him, releasing Hannah’s hand. “You hungry pal?” Simon wagged his tail in response. “I’ll just go feed him.” he offered and Hannah smiled at him as he headed off. She turned and shyly thanked everyone, sitting at her usual spot before she poured herself some coffee.

When Ari returned he dropped into the seat next to her, noticing it had been left empty, most likely on purpose. He reached for a pastry and leaned back, munching it, his right arm laying across the back rest of Hannah’s chair, making the most of ignoring Sammy stares at his arm which stopped when Rachel nudged him in the ribs.

All in all, the atmosphere was light, but there was an elephant in the room, and no one wanted to raise it for fear of setting Sammy off. Rachel, as always, provided a perfect distraction and reached down for a gift bag. She set it graciously on the table and pushed it towards Hannah.

"This is from us 4…" she said looking at Max, Jake and Ari.

"5." Ari corrected. They all looked at him and he shrugged. "Simon chipped in."

Everyone chuckled and Hannah nudged him. "Idiot." 

He grinned, looking at her, for a moment debating giving her a kiss but he decided not to rub Sammy’s nose in it anymore. Hannah looked at him, sensing what he was thinking, and bit her lip reaching into the bag. They watched as she unwrapped her present, giving a little gasp as she spotted the Tag Heuer logo on the black leather box.

"You didn’t." her eyes flicked up in shock, looking round the tale.

"No you’re right, we didn’t Red. It’s just a box." Jake joked.

There were a few chuckles as she opened the case it and her fingers skated the silver and gold metal women’s divers watch nestled in the deep blue silk casing. "Oh my god…" she whispered, reaching in to pull it out. She then looked up again, smiling widely.  "Guys…I …it’s amazing, thank you."

"Try it on. Come on cracker, I wanna see what my money bought." Max demanded.

"Our money." Rachel rolled her eyes at him. Max shrugged, stuffing more toast into his mouth.

Ari gently reached for it and took it from her, slipping it over her outstretched hand before he gently fixed the clasp. Hannah turned her arm over to look at it and smiled glancing up at the table.

"This must have cost you all a fortune…"

Jake leaned back grinning. "Ah, you’re worth it Red." And then he grimaced and looked at Ari, almost apologetically but Ari just chuckled.

"You’re right."

"Thanks guys, I love it." Hannah said before standing and giving Max, Jake and Rachel a hug in turn before she sat back down and gave Ari’s hand a quick squeeze where it was resting on the table.

Sammy cleared his throat and slid a gift bag and another wrapped box over the table "The bag is from Mama, I collected it from PS the other day and this…" he tapped a box "This is from me."

Hannah reached over, placing her hand over Sammy’s on top of the box and giving his fingers a squeeze. "Thanks Sammy." She spoke sincerely, her eyes locked onto her brother’s and he gave her a smile. She pulled the box towards her, opened it and gave a loud laugh and a squeal as she eyed up the item inside.

"Fuck Red, that’s a polaroid. That’s fucking awesome." Jake exclaimed.

"Oh my god I can’t wait to use this!!" She jumped up and rounded the table towards her brother. Sammy also got up and the pair of them hugged. Hannah closed her eyes, pressing her face into Sammy’s chest as his arms wrapped around her tight, and she recognised the hug for what it was. AN apology. Ari glanced at Rachel who gave him a small smile before he turned back to the siblings. Hannah stepped back and smiled as Sammy kissed her head and Ari could see Hannah was nearly crying.

"Thanks Sammy, I love it." she said, trying not to choke on her words.

"You’re welcome Han." 

She sat back down, wiping her eyes and reached for her mother's gift, letting out a little gasp at the white crocheted skirt and top.

"Woah, did she make this?" Rachel asked, admiring the items of clothing.

Hannah nodded proudly. "She’s awesome. She’s made me loads of tops and stuff over the years."

"Remember the shirt she made me out of the old paisley curtains from the lounge?" Sammy asked smiling slightly.

Hannah grinned back. "Yeah…that shirt was actually kinda cool."

"Wait, wait..back up…you actually wore a pair of curtains?" Max asked, visibly shocked.

"Oh no, tell me you didn’t." Rachel shook her head at Sammy.

"Scarlett O’Hara did, why wouldn’t I?" he shrugged.

The table erupted into laughter, Jake shaking his head and launching into an impression “As God is my witness, I will never be hungry again.” "Come on, that’s a Max line." Sammy protested.

As the banter struck up across the table Ari leaned down to whisper in Hannah’s ear. "Feeling better?"

She nodded. "Loads."  She then smiled and raised her wrist. "I know this was your idea. I told you I wanted one in Port Sudan."

 "Yes, you did." Ari flashed her the Levinson smile his voice adopting a sultry tone that made her stomach flip.

"Thank you." she whispered

"Anything for you, firefly." he whispered, lost in her eyes.

She looked at him, the way he was looking at her was making her feel dizzy, but they were broken from their moment by Max and Jake howling with laughter. They tore their eyes unwillingly from one another to see Jake was banging the table with his fist.

 "You wore it to a club? Holy shit…hey Red, please tell me there is a photo of this douchebag in the curtains…." he said through a fit of laughter.

Hannah grinned.  "Mama will have one. I’ll get her to send it to me."

 "Don’t you dare!"  Sammy said, pointing at her. But she just grinned and shrugged.

Eventually, they made it through breakfast without any incidents and then Hannah decided she wanted to have some fun with the Polaroid, excitedly asking Jake to take one of her, Ari and Simon.

"Hah. Family portrait…yeah why not…" Jake quipped.

It took him 3 shots as the damned dog wouldn't play ball and kept looking anywhere but at the camera until Max walked up behind Jake with a pastry in his hands. Simons’ ears perked up as he eyed up Max’s food and thus Jake managed to get a nice shot of the three of them. Ari’s arm looped around Hanna’s shoulder, casually as hers was round his waist, Simon at their feet.

Hannah then offered to get one of Ari and Simon for him to send to Maya and Ari agreed. Crouching down, he gently posed with Simon, one hand round the dog as Hannah smiled and then whipped the Polaroid film out, shaking it furiously before she collected the ones Jake had made to look at them.

 "Are you done with the photo shoot? Some guests are waiting for their diving tour." Sammy interrupted, being the natural buzzkill he was. Ari noticed the slight acidity to his tone but luckily, before Hannah did, Jake chipped in.

 "This is vogue Sammy…" he joked, striking a pose.

 "Yeah, like your curtain shirt." Hannah sniggered.

Sammy rolled his eyes, an unexpected soft smile on his face as he turned away.

"Is it me or is he being very calm?" Ari asked, squinting his eyes in the direction Sammy had left.

Hannah hummed. "Almost too calm. Anyway…" she said, handing Ari the stack of Polaroids she had taken as she turned to follow Jake.

"Where are you going?" Ari asked.

"Where do you think? I got a new divers watch to test out!" she chimed while raising and tilting her left wrist at him.

Ari smiled fondly as she saw her back away. Shaking his head Ari looked down at Simon who was looking at him and then turned to look at his owner.  Ari snorted. "Go on."

The dog trotted after Hannah, tail wagging. Ari watched them go, and for once he didn't feel a shred of bother at the sight of Jake tossing an arm around her. The confrontation with Sammy hadn't been great but it had blown their cover and now everyone knew she was HIS girl. He felt better, relieved.

He glanced down at the Polaroids and smiled softly at the one of him and Simon, then the 3 of them, but it was one of the outtakes that made him pause. Simon was looking off to the right barking and Hannah was looking down at him, laughing as she watched him, Ari sporting a huge grin on his face. But it was Hannah’s expression that struck him. Her eyes were crinkled, those dimples he loved were on full display, her mouth wide open, curved into a loud giggle.

Outtake or not, he was definitely keeping that one.

Part 3 COMING SOON!!!

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part six Word count: ±3400 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part six summary: Sam goes back to Zoë’s hotel to pick up his lost phone, but the state he finds her in is both shocking and familiar. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Preparing himself for a rant, Sam knocks on the door of room 17. He’s standing in the corridor of the Hampton Inn after the receptionist allowed him upstairs, recognizing him from the night before and believing his story when he gave her an excuse. It takes a while before someone grants him access to the suite, but when he’s about to knock for the second time, the door opens.      “Sam...” Zoë grunts, sounding like a sixty year old whiskey drinker who smokes at least a pack a day. 

     As he enters the room, he notices the gun in her right hand, which she held behind the door in case she had bad company. The music playlist from last night is still playing, 2+2= by Bob Seger currently on. Zoë adjusts her PJ shorts, the Nirvana shirt hanging from one shoulder and her wavy hair a bird’s nest; she looks like she’s experiencing the worst hangover ever.      “Are you alright?” Sam checks, carefully.      “Yeah, just a bad night,” she mutters.      “You were fine when I left,” he recalls, surprised by her state.      She doesn’t respond and drags her feet to the bathroom. Sam hears the water falling down in the sink. She’s probably attempting to freshen up a little.      “I left my phone here somewhere,” Sam informs, before Zoë asks about his visit.      No answer, not even a smart comment. Somewhat worried, Sam peeks around the corner. Zoë is leaning on the sink with one hand, pressuring her other palm against her forehead. She has her eyes firmly shut, every muscle in her body tenses; she’s in pain.      “You’re not alright,” Sam notices and walks in to support her, but she shrugs him off.      “It’s nothing, just leave me alone,” the huntress snaps.

     Without granting Sam another second of her attention, Zoë saunters into the room and turns down the music, annoyed by the sound of the guitar that only amplifies the throbbing inside her skull. Instead, she switches on the TV while rubbing her face, steadying herself against the back of the sofa. 

     As Sam observes her, the gears in his head start to turn. She seems ill, feverish almost, as if she’s fighting off an infection. Something about her conditions is familiar. Unable to catch a breath, clammy skin, dizziness. The feeling of being run over by a sixteen wheeler, a bass drum pounding through one’s head, as if they were inches from an amplifier at a concert all night long. Then it clicks. 

     “You had a vision.”

     Startled, Zoë looks aside. Shit. How the hell did he pick up on that? Surely she’s a mess, but Sam must have the exact same symptoms in order for him to figure it out this fast. She cannot let him know, though, and so she recovers quickly.      “No, I didn’t. It's migraines.” She shrugs it off and looks back at the television.      Sam keeps reading her while the local TV station brings them the latest news. She tries to concentrate on the screen, but feels Sam’s burning eyes. Then she snaps at him.      “Stop trying to find things that aren’t there, Sam.”      “You’re lying.” Sam knows.      She sighs with an eye roll and turns up the volume.      “No, I’m not. Now drop it.”      “I’m not gonna drop it.” He steps between her and the TV, blocking her view. “You were dying to know about my visions from the moment you learned I have them.”      “I’m watching that,” she voices, annoyed with his intrusion.      “And I’m talking to you,” Sam returns with an attitude.

     She gives him a look that could kill and steps around him to have a clear view of the screen again, trying her best to ignore the hunter and not blow up on the guy. He better not push her, because he has no idea what would be coming for him.      “Headaches, black spots, nausea right after you wake up,” Sam sums up. “You have them.”      “Would you shut the fuck up for one second?!” Zoë hushes him violently.

     It’s just now that the news on the TV catches Sam’s attention. She’s not just agitated with him because she doesn’t want to talk about the paranormal powers they have in common; there’s actually something on the local news that’s worth their attention.

“In Paragould, the body of a man has been discovered. This morning, Bill Van Dyke was found deceased in his own home, and the Paragould Police Department are considering his death to be suspicious. Local authorities claim that the family were home during the time of death.”

     “Shit,” Zoë spats.      “What is it?” Sam glances aside.      She sighs, still watching the screen as another reporter at the scene gives more information about the incident. “He died the same way Robert Shire did.”      “The girl’s father?” Sam checks, remembering the surname of ‘Shire’ engraved on Laura’s tombstone.      Zoë nods in confirmation as the reporter in the studio takes over again.

“Bill Van Dyke, the principal of Woodrow Wilson Elementary in Paragould, was a pillar of  support to the local community--”

     Zoë doesn’t hear the rest of the report, the sound fading out as her gaze locks on the school building, which is shown on the screen. She recognizes that building.      “It’s her,” she knows.      “That can’t be. You salted and burned her bones,” Sam brings to mind.      “I’m aware of that, Sam. I dug her up myself,” she hisses, as she opens her closet and takes out her suit, her actions hasty and on the edge of aggressive. “Something is keeping her here, an object maybe. Fuck!”      “Guess you’re staying in town a bit longer than expected,” he concludes.      “Guess so, but I don’t have time for this shit.” Zoë mutters and takes off her shirt, putting on a white blouse as if she’s alone in the room.      Sam averts his eyes, awkwardly, but the huntress isn't bothered.      “Nothing you haven't seen, Sam,” she comments, perky.      Nevertheless he turns away from her, uneasily staring out the window. For a second he considers offering their help on this job, but he’s quite sure she will reject anyway. Besides, they have their own case to deal with.

     Rushing, Zoë gets into her dress pants, which she just pulled out of dry cleaner plastic a moment ago.      “How can you be so sure it’s Laura?” Sam wonders.      “Laura was a 4th grader at Woodrow Wilson Elementary” she explains.      He shrugs. “So? What did Van Dyke ever do to her?”      “Her gym teacher knew about the abuse. My guess is that the principal knew too and didn’t do anything,” Zoë presumes, pulling a thin leather belt through the loops.      “How do you even know that her teacher was aware? You couldn’t have seen her already, not in his short amount of time. Admit it; you see things,” Sam’s pushes.

     Zoë huffs, half shaking her head and well aware that Sam will not buy the bullshit. She wasn't planning on telling him, but the younger Winchester brother might be the one person she can trust when it comes to her abilities. He’s special, just like she is, and neither of them have a clue what is going on. He’s in the dark, just like her. Telling him would involve certain risks, though. Afterall, he is a hunter, one who she just met.      “Zo, start talking,” Sam coerces.      “Alright! I see things! There, I said it. Happy now?” she cries out.

     The confession is as much as a surprise to Sam as it is to Zoë; did she just say that out loud? Shocked, Sam stares at her, but he’s not sure if he’s so stunned by the information of the statement itself or because of the fact that Zoë just told him the truth. Disoriented, his eyes wander off as it slowly starts to sink in what this means; he’s not alone.

     “You have visions, just like me?” he recaps.      “Not entirely,” Zoë says as she buttons her jacket. “You dream about the future, I dream about the past.”      “Like flashbacks?” Sam questions.      “Something like that, yeah. But there’s no possible way I could know these things, you know? Most of the time I don’t even know the people who are involved,” she explains, frustration evident in her voice.      “Tell me ‘bout it,” Sam replies with a chuckle.

     A glint of a smile pulls at Zoë’s lips as she looks up. A feeling she hasn’t experienced in quite a while comes to her. Relief, recognition, as if a weight just fell off her shoulders now that she finally told someone about the secret she has been carrying around for so long. She wishes she could just get it all out of her system, tell him about the other issues that she’s involved in, but she can’t. Besides, there’s little time and still a lot to do. 

     Zoë slips into her pumps, takes her FBI identification out of her duffel and puts it in her inside pocket.      “That’s how you pick your cases, isn’t it?” Sam now understands how Zoë can get to a scene with not much visual evidence, at least not visible to outsiders.      “First I didn’t, because I didn’t understand what was happening to me. But then I thought: Hey, I’m having these flashbacks for a reason, I might as well check it out,” she elaborates before she steps into the bathroom and starts applying makeup.      Sam nods at that, agreeing. “Good point.” Maybe he should start seeing the dreams as clues, too. If he had listened to the visions in the first place, Jessica might still be alive right now. 

     He watches how the woman of many faces basically shapeshifts, going from the groggy, hungover girl in PJ’s to an autorical, tough as nails federal agent. Zoë ties her hair back into a tight ponytail, the look really sending the message that she will take absolutely no bullshit. But under that facade, the role she takes on and hides behind, Sam sees something else; she is nervous, restless, anxious even.      “What’s going on, Zo?” Sam confronts her, his tone supportive, however.

     For a moment she stops fixing her hair and places her hands on her hips. The huntress takes a breath as she searches for words, deciding what she can tell him without giving him too much information.      “I’m on a bit of a time schedule,” she admits. “I need to finish this case before tonight.”      Sam narrows his eyes, concerned, trying to read her. “What kind of time schedule?”      “It’s personal,” she cuts off, immediately.

     Her eyes bore into his, warning him not to ask another question. It’s clear as day that she is not going to give him an inch on this. Intimidated by her gaze, he decides not to dig further.      “What happens if you can’t put her spirit to rest in time?”      “I’ll make it,” Zoë responds, sure of herself.      “You don't know that,” he argues.      “I’ll have to leave town, case closed or not,” she adds simply, walking around the bed to pick up her phone from her nightstand.      “What?! You’re just gonna give up a case?” Sam disapproves.      “I’ve seen hunters do it before,” she says with a tone, straightening her back and standing a little taller.      “So? Then they suck!” Sam exclaims.      Zoë snorts, not disagreeing with him there, but the young Winchester isn’t finished yet.      “Laura will keep haunting this town and every one who might have the slightest connection to her death. Do you have any idea how many could end up dead?” Sam tries to make her see.      “I don’t. Have. A choice,” she states, pronouncing her words slowly and loud, as if Sam suffers hearing loss.      “You do,” Sam corrects. “You always have a choice.”      “You should have a poster made with those words, Gandhi,” Zoë responds sassy. 

     She has gathered her keys and her motorcycle helmet now, ready to head out. Sam doesn’t seize his plea, though.      “Let us help you,” he offers.      After halting abruptly, the huntress slowly turns her head and stares at him for a brief moment, then she laughs out loud.

     “No way in hell,” she chuckles, apparently finding the proposition ridiculous.      “Why not?” Sam wants to know.      “Because I don’t team up with others. The moment you depend on someone other than yourself, you’re vulnerable. You start to trust people you shouldn’t trust and when it all goes wrong, people die,”  she states.      “What about covering each other’s backs? Looking out for your partner?” Sam brings up the bright side of cooperation.      “Apparently that isn’t for me, and believe me; I’ve experienced it,” Zoë comments, a speck of pain edging her voice.

     Sam is not sure what the young huntress means by that, but he can read from her eyes that whatever happened, it still hurts her. He keeps quiet for a moment, but then continues with a calm tone.      “Hear me out. We can take over the case completely and you can go wherever you need to go. We’re in the same hunting fields, so why shoot at each other in order to get rid of the competition when we can split up. Dean and I can handle this,” Sam ensures.      “I believe you can, but I’m not the type who lets someone else do the dirty jobs. I got this one, I just need to make good time,” Zoë assures as she heads for the door. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have a crime scene to investigate.”

     She holds the door for Sam, her piercing eyes telling him without words to get out of her suite. The younger Winchester lets a sigh slip from his lips as he looks up at the ceiling for a moment. There’s absolutely no way to get through to that woman, he thinks to himself as he walks outside before she locks the door. The sharp thumps of her heels echo through the lobby, when she hastily parades to the parking lot while taking out her shades. Just before she walks out, Sam stops her by laying her hand on her shoulder.

     “Zoë…”      She spins around, not keen on the physical contact.      “If you need help, call me,” he insists.      “You know I won’t, Sammy,” she reacts, pushing the sunglasses onto her nose.      “Don’t - don’t call me Sammy,” he mumbles under his breath, watching her stride away to her Harley Davidson.      After putting on her helmet, she starts the engine and rides off, not even bothering to say goodbye. 

     Defeated, Sam turns to the Impala, which is parked on one of the taxi spots. A thin layer of dust covers the black car, which seems to boil in the early morning sun. It’s awfully quiet. No ear blasting rock tunes from the radio, no Dean jamming on his air guitar. Sam peeks through the window of the passenger’s side and finds his brother fast asleep. He can’t see Dean’s eyes because of the sunglasses he’s wearing to cut out the light his hungover brain cannot tolerate, but his head rests half against the window, tilted slightly backwards. Sam’s thoughts go back to the day before yesterday, when they parked the car in front of the pharmacy and Dean scared the shit out of him by slamming his fist against the window. Of course, Sam can’t resist doing the same thing and hits the window right on the spot where Dean’s leaning against on the other side.

     “Kelly Clarkson!” Dean cries out spooked, as he bumps his head up against the hardtop of the car.      With a big smirk on his face, Sam walks around the car just as victoriously as his brother did the other day, and settles in the driver's seat. When he sees his brother’s confused expression, he can’t help but laugh.      “Man, that’s so not cool,” Dean mutters with a raspy voice as he rubs his face.

     “Got what I came for.” Sam holds up his Blackberry.      “Did you have to wake me up for that?” Dean takes off his shades and narrows his eyes against the bright sun.      “No, that was just for fun,” Sam grins.      “Bitch,” Dean grumbles.      “Jerk,” Sam returns with a smile. “I have another update by the way.”      “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Dean wonders, carelessly, resting his head against the cool glass again.      “We’re staying in town for a couple more days,”  Sam informs.

     He got Dean’s attention with that notification, all right. His older brother looks up at him and although he can barely keep his eyes open, Sam can tell that he’s curious for more info.      “What? Werewolf turned out to be a coyote?” Dean assumes.      “Not really, but there’s still a case here,” Sam begins to explain, while taking the car keys from his pocket.      “So? It’s Sullivan’s case, I ain’t touching that with a ten foot pole,” Dean makes clear.      “Aren’t you happy you can hang out with Denise?” Sam persuades, hoping to change his mind.      “Oh, no. I know what you’re doing.” Dean sits up straight and smirks, on to his little brother’s persuasiveness. “You’re trying to make this seem brochure perfect, but this isn’t about Denise. Spill it.”

     Sam sighs. Damn, there goes his master plan. Although he gets the impression that Dean can't stand the female hunter, Sam decides to tell the truth.      “I think Zoë needs help,” he admits.      “The last time you thought that I ended up in a bridal suite with a shapeshifter and you got dumped in a septic tank with our damsel in distress,” Dean recalls. “Did she ask for your help?”      “No, not re--”      “- Did she accept your offer?” Dean asks again.      “No, but --”      “- Then we ain’t helping her,” Dean decides.

     “Come on, Dean. We can’t leave her like that,” Sam tries.      “She’s a big girl, Sam. And a damn good hunter too. She’ll be fine,” Dean assures.      “I don’t know, man. Something doesn’t seem right,” Sam ponders. “She told me she’s on some sort of time schedule or something.”      “Yeah, her period. Guessing it’s coming up to that time of the month,” Dean grumbles, sarcastically.      He has lost interest in the conversation and crosses his arms in front of his chest, tugging deeper into the seat.

     “She’s gonna leave town tonight, case closed or not,” Sam clarifies.      Dean opens his eyes and looks aside. “You really think she would leave a job unfinished?” Dean wonders.      Sam shrugs. “Apparently.”      “That deadline must be pretty damn important,” the oldest brother concludes. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt if we stay until tonight, see if she manages to wrap up the case in time. But after that, we’re off to Texas. I was looking forward to that wolf hunt.”

     Satisfied with that compromise, Sam starts the engine. Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Looking Out My Back Door sounds from the radio of the classic car, built around the same time that this song was hitting the charts.      By the time the Chevrolet leaves the parking lot, Dean has looked up Denise’s number and is on the phone with her. Fuck the appropriate time to wait until reaching out. This is a booty call; the regular rules of dating don’t apply.

     “Hey… No, you didn’t forget anything. I just couldn’t wait to call you…. Yeah, I’d love to get together again. I’ll probably have to leave town in a few days, so… tonight? Alright, sounds great.” Dean gives Sam an exaggerated wink.      “At her place,” Sam half mouths, half whispers, making sure Denise doesn’t pick up on his words.      “One sec, sweetheart.” Dean presses his hand on the microphone and looks aside. “Having plans for tonight, Romeo?”      Sam glares at him and Dean returns his attention back to Denise, who started talking to him again.      “Your place, you say? At eight? Cool, I’ll see you tonight then… looking forward to it, too… Alright, bye.” They both hang up and Dean smirks satisfied.      “You are unbelievable, you know that?” Sam comments while shaking his head.      "Oh, I'm unbelievably irresistible,” his brother replies, victoriously.

     Just as Sam decides to turn right, a weird soft roar sounds from inside the car.      “What the hell was that?” Sam looks around.      “My GPS is telling you to make a left,” Dean explains.      The youngest of the two looks aside at his brother who’s pressing his hand on his hungry stomach. Now Sam looks over to the left and spots the yellow zigzag arrow above an In-N-Out restaurant. He laughs, he should have known.      “I see,” he grins and makes the turn. “Drive thru?”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page). 

Read chapter seven here  

[prettyboy-parker]

i’ll be waiting for you in san junipero (but only if you want me to)

if you haven’t seen the black mirror episode, read on AO3 for a short introduction. if you have, continue!

words: 6.5k

warnings: nff, drinking, smoking, terminal illness, past stony, character death (not detailed), and semi-public sex

spotify playlist

1987

Pink and purple light floods over the hot mass of bodies in the center of the club, shouts of laughter filling the stuffy air. Bananarama’s one-hit-wonder “Venus” blares from the speakers, the bass giving the club its own heartbeat. The flashing Tucker’s sign makes Peter flinch as he slips inside. Someone blows cigarette smoke into the open, which makes him cough and wave the smoke away.

“S’cuse me,” He squeaks, pushing past a preppy-dressed man talking lowly to a bubble gum popping woman. They both look up at him in annoyance before turning back to their conversation. Peter grimaces and wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans. He weaves his way around the people mulling about and slips over to the bar.

The bartender doesn’t see him at first, too busy fixing a drink for another patron. But the blonde eventually notices him, and Peter gives him a shy smile.

“What can I get for you?” The man asks, his smile tight. There’s a tired lilt to his voice, and Peter nearly feels bad for him. 

“Um, just a Coke, please,” He squeaks, nervously resting his hands on the bar counter. He yanks them away right after, settling on hanging them by his sides.

“Just a Coke? Not like, a rum and Coke?” The bartender asks; his face twisted sourly.

“Just a Coke,” Peter repeats with a nod. The man grimaces and pulls out a chilled glass of Coca Cola.

“Thanks,” Peter says, but the bartender is already out of earshot.

“Fuck off, dude! I sucked you off last week!”

Peter’s heart jumps and he spins around, pressing his back against the wood of the bar.

A man is heading towards him, and he’s moving very quickly.

He has a disgruntled look on his face, and his big brown eyes are narrowed in annoyance. Peter feels the moisture leaves his mouth when he sees the man’s sharp collarbones peeking out from the collar of his printed shirt. The man stops short next to Peter and slings his arm around the shorter’s shoulders.

“Pretend like you know me,” The man murmurs into Peter’s ear, sending shivers down the boy’s spine.

“Tony! What are we, kindergarteners? Talk to me!”

Another man, a little younger (yet taller) than Tony, emerges from the crowd of people.

“Leave me alone, Stephen. I don’t do seconds.” Tony grumbles, rolling his eyes. His arm is heavy on Peter’s shoulders, and the brunette is woozy at the feeling of Tony’s side pressed against his.

“You don’t do seconds?” Stephen scoffs, stopping in front of the two. “I think Maya would beg to differ.”

Peter can feel Tony tense up against him.

“Go away, Stephen. I’m trying to have a conversation,” The man spits, tucking his free hand in the back pocket of his jeans. Stephen looks at Peter warily.

“Oh, really? Or are you just looking for another fuck?”

Peter can feel heat creep onto his cheeks.  Tony throws his head back and laughs.

“Fuck off. He’s an old friend from college,” Tony tells Stephen, giving Peter a pat on the bicep. Stephen looks like he doesn’t believe a word that came out of Tony’s mouth, but he still walks away with a huff.

“Jesus, a guy can never get a break around here,” Tony mutters angrily, slipping his arm off of Peter’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry he was being an ass,” Peter says softly, anxiously rocking on his heels. Tony shrugs.

“I can’t blame him. Who wouldn’t want piece of this?” Tony jokes, a goofy smile on his face as he gestures to himself. Peter chuckles and shakes his head.

“Anyways, I’m Tony,” The other man says, sticking out his hand. Peter takes it and gives it a loose shake. “And you are?”

“Peter,” The brunette replies before dropping Tony’s hand.

“ Peter ,” He repeats, and Peter melts at the sound of his name coming from those plump lips. Tony’s eyes flick down to his glass.

“Rum and Coke?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Just a Coke,” Peter says bashfully. Tony gives him a funny look, but still smiles.

“You’re cute,” He purrs, voice quiet under the music of the club. Peter’s stomach churns and he lets out a breathy laugh. The smaller man puts his drink on the counter. “Let’s dance. You wanna dance?”

“Oh, I don’t-“

Tony grabs his hand before he can finish and pulls him into the throng of dancing people. Peter yelps in surprise, but allows the man to whisk him away. Tony’s hand is warm and a little bit sweaty, yet Peter doesn’t mind.

“I love this song!” Tony shouts when “She Blinded Me With Science” by Thomas Dolby plays from the speakers. The crowd cheers and Tony grabs Peter’s other hand.

It's poetry in motion

She turned her tender eyes to me

As deep as any ocean

As sweet as any harmony

Tony sways his hips back and forth in time with the music. Peter laughs softly, standing stiffly.

“Come on, loosen up!” Tony tells him, grinning wildly. Peter tries to sway his body like Tony, but he just feels stupid. The other man doesn’t seem to notice, because he moves closer to Peter.

Mm, but she blinded me with science

She blinded me with science

And failed me in biology, yeh yeh

“There you go! Don’t ever say you can’t dance,” Tony yells over the music, running his tongue over his bottom lip. A giggle bubbles from Peter’s throat.

Now uh, huh huh

When I'm dancing close to her

Blinding me with science, science

Science

“I think we should go get some air,” Peter calls out, swinging him and Tony’s hands side to side. “It’s really hot!”

Tony finds that funny and laughs. As the song comes to an end, the two weave their way back through the crowd. Tony steers him past the arcade machines and to the peeling back door.

“Fuck, it’s like an oven in there,” Tony groans once they get outside, the door shutting behind him with a heavy thud. Peter watches him slip a cigarette and a lighter out of his back pocket.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect it to be so hot in there,” Peter says, leaning against the brick wall of the club. Tony places the end of the cigarette in his mouth.

“Expect?” Tony asks, giving him a funny look. “Is this your first time here?”

Peter avoids Tony’s gaze and looks at his Vans.

“Yup,” He murmurs, awkwardly fiddling with his belt. Tony reaches out and encases Peter’s wrist with his fingers. The brunette holds his breath as Tony runs his thumb over his wrist.

“How about we head to mine?”

Peter’s heart stops in his chest.

And then, he yanks his hand away.

“No!” He exclaims, but immediately regrets it when he sees the look on Tony’s face. “I mean, I would, but-“

“Hey, don’t sweat it.” Tony says coolly. He flicks the lighter and brings the flame to his lips. “It’s almost midnight, anyways.”

***

One Week Later- 1987

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Bright smile. Honey-smooth voice.

Peter scans the crowd for Tony, eyes flicking over the sweaty bodies. He doesn’t see him right away, and he can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Tony has been on Peter’s mind all week since their first meeting. Over much thinking (and internal bickering), he’s decided to find Tony again.

He hasn’t fucked anyone since his 20’s, okay?

San Junipero is advertised as a getaway, a place where you can do whatever you want-without repercussion. He would have waited to get to know Tony more before even kissing him, but Peter quickly learned that’s not how they roll here.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he shuffles around the edge of the dance floor. Half of him wants to run and find somewhere on the beach to sit and mull, but the other half yearns to find Tony.

And there he is.

Peter stops in his tracks, right next to the cluster of arcade games. He spots Tony nestled on one of the pink vinyl seats, looking bored as a girl with big hair talks to him. He looks good, his hair slicked back and a cherry red letterman jacket wrapped around his broad frame.

Tony looks up.

Peter’s breath catches in his throat when their eyes meet. Tony’s doe eyes go wide, and Peter gives him a shy wave. The older man says something to the girl next to him before getting up and weaving his way around the crowd.

There’s a small smirk on Tony’s face when he approaches Peter.

“I’ve changed my mind,” The smaller man says. “I-I want you.”

Tony grins like the cat that got the cream.

“I knew it,” He murmurs, stepping closer to Peter. He reaches out and gently brushes Peter’s bicep with his hand. “Everyone gets the first day jitters.”

Peter laughs, but his heart pounds against his rib cage. Are there the second day jitters, too? Tony shuffles a little closer and wraps one arm around his waist.

“I’ve got a little place next to the ocean. You ready to go?”

Poor old Johnny Ray

Sounded sad upon the radio

But he moved a million hearts in mono

Our mothers cried, sang along, who'd blame them

Peter smiles as the wind tousles his curls, glancing over to Tony. The older man winks and revs the engine of his Mustang. ( “1983 Ford Mustang Convertible, baby. The best out there,” Tony had said, but Peter was too lost in his eyes.)

“Almost there, sugar!” Tony shouts over the wind, taking a particularly sharp left. Peter shrieks as they lean to the side.

You're grown (so grown up)

So grown (so grown up)

Now I must say more than ever

(Come on, Eileen)

Too ra loo ra too ra loo rye aye

And we can sing just like our fathers

“Holy shit, be careful!” Peter yells, but there’s no fear in his voice. Tony laughs, loud and bright and warm . He reaches to the side and tucks his hand over Peter’s thigh.

Come on, Eileen, oh I swear (what he means)

At this moment, you mean everything

You in that dress, my thoughts I confess

Verge on dirty

Ah, come on, Eileen

Tony eventually slows his speed when they reach the beach, passing the clumps of twirling sea grass and sand dunes.

His house is very cute.

It reminds him of the old beach house they would rent on the shores of Long Island, a desperate attempt at a picture perfect vacation while his mother was dying. The house is a watered down blue color, weathered from the sun and the sand. There’s no decorations, no plastic flamingoes, no welcome mat. But it’s cute.

“Home sweet home,”  Tony sings once he shuts off the car. Peter laughs softly before unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Oh, you might want to take your shoes off now. The sand can be a bitch.”

“True,” Peter replies, undoing the laces of his sneakers with shaky hands. Tony does the same, then swings open the car door. Peter tucks his socks into his shoes and climbs out the car. The sand feels nice between his toes; soft and smooth.

Peter follows Tony into his house, glancing over his shoulder when they clamber up the porch steps. The city glows behind them, tiny lights dotting the landscape.

“Slow poke!” Tony laughs, snapping Peter out of his thoughts. He wraps his hands around the younger’s waist and pulls him inside. Tony kicks the door closed and Peter drops his shoes on the ground. With a flash of bravery, he rests his hands on Tony’s chest. The older man lets out a breath, and their lips are so close that the air hits Peter’s.

“I wanna kiss you,” Peter blurts, leaning closer into Tony’s touch. The corner of the man‘s mouth twitches.

“Then kiss me.”

Peter presses his lips to Tony’s. He does it a little too forcefully, too enthusiastically, because Tony stumbles backwards. He regains his footing though, and kisses back happily. Peter squeaks when Tony squeezes his ass.

“ Tony ,” Peter breathes as Tony moves his wet lips down his cheek and to his jaw.

“I’ve been thinking about getting my hands on you,” Tony grumbles against his warm skin. The feeling of his teeth makes Peter shudder. “When I saw you at the bar, I needed to get you in my bed.”

Peter lets out a shaky moan at Tony’s words, hips stuttering when he sucks a bruise onto his neck. Peter can feel the hard outline of Tony’s dick against his thigh.

“S-Speaking of that bed,” The smaller man stutters, tangling his fingers in Tony’s hair.

“Right over there,” He replies, gently grabbing Peter’s hands and removing them from his hair. The brunette giggles as Tony guides him to the bed, the bed that’s, for some reason, pushed against the living room windows. When Tony sees the look on his face, he smirks.

“I like everything in one room, baby. Except the toilet.” He explains while he gets Peter onto the bed. Peter laughs and kisses Tony again, letting the older man push him so he’s lying down. The pressure of his crotch against Peter’s makes the younger man moan against Tony’s lips. He tries to grind upwards, searching for relief against his aching cock.

“Get this fuckin-this shirt off,” Tony growls, yanking at the hem of Peter’s shirt and pulling it over his head. Tony sits upwards, shucks off his jacket, and takes off his own shirt, throwing it onto the ground. Peter’s mouth goes dry as he eyes the trail of dark hair that leads to Tony’s... yeah . Peter reaches out and touches his navel.

“Ngh, fuck,” Tony groans, hurriedly unbuckling his belt and pulling it from the loops. Peter’s chest heaves as he undoes his belt. Tony rolls to the side, unfortunately off of Peter, and starts to take off his shoes. Peter shimmies out of his jeans awkwardly, whimpering when his hand brushes over his rock hard cock. 

“Pete,” Tony breathes after he takes off his jeans.

Peter pulls Tony into a kiss by his neck. The older man groans and cups both of Peter’s cheeks. The brunette reaches down and gently squeezes Tony’s dick through his cotton boxers.

“Shit!” He hisses, and in a sudden move he pulls Peter’s boxers down his pale thighs. Peter sighs when his cock is finally freed, bobbing in the cool air. It’s still the same smaller-than-average size as real life, unfortunately. But Tony’s cock is big, thick and veined and leaking precum.

“Look at you,” Tony coos, wrapping his tan fingers around Peter’s length. He lets out a high pitched whine at the friction and slick sound. “All this for me?”

“ Y-yes ,” Peter pants, tangling his fingers in the sheets. Tony shuffles closer so his own cock is lined up against Peter’s. The sight is absolutely filthy.

“I hate to admit it, but I’m really close,” Tony groans, beginning to stroke both himself and Peter at the same time. Peter’s hips jerk upwards, making his cock rub against Tony’s

“ Tony ,”  Peter cries, falling forward and mouthing at the older man’s neck. For the next couple of moments, the sounds of grunts and moans fill the room. The up and down motion of Tony’s hand makes Peter’s gut curl, and before he knows it-

“Fuck!” Peter shouts as his balls tighten and he spills his release over Tony’s hand. Tony breathing picks up as he nears his climax, using Peter’s cum to slick his own cock. With a loud moan, Tony reaches his orgasm.

“Baby,” Tony mumbles once he catches his breath. Peter lets out a breathy laugh as Tony flops down on the bed. The younger man does the same, lying so close that their noses almost touch. Tony smiles, and the way his gorgeous eyes crinkle make Peter feel all warm and fuzzy.

“That was- s’really good,” He slurs, reaching out and barely grazing Tony’s cheek with his fingertips. His skin is warm, flushed a sweet pink.

“Damn right it was,” Tony laughs, wrapping his clean arm around Peter’s waist. “Do y’know what time it is? I cant remember when we left the bar.”

“It’s almost-“

Peter jolts upwards, the gentle beep of the monitor filling his ears.

“Midnight.”

*** Another Week Later- 1990

Strike a pose

Strike a pose

(Vogue, vogue, vogue)

(Vogue, vogue, vogue)

Peter awkwardly tucks his hands into the pockets of his overalls, breathing heavy from his trek around the club. He’s looked everywhere and he just can’t find Tony. He knows he’s being clingy and weird, but Tony has been constantly on his mind.

Look around, everywhere you turn is heartache

It's everywhere that you go (look around)

You try everything you can to escape

The pain of life that you know (life that you know)

Peter spots the man from a few weeks ago standing by the bar. What was him name again? Stefan? Steven?

Stephen!

Peter, although a little too enthusiastically, rushes down the small set of steps to the tall man. He doesn’t look up right away, of course, but he does when Peter calls out his name.

“Do I know you?” Stephen grunts, narrowing his ice blue eyes. Peter smiles warily.

“Have you seen Tony?” He asks, chewing on his bottom lip.

“No,” Stephen replies, a sour look on his face. He takes a sip of his beer. “You too, huh?”

Peter feels his stomach lurch.

“I-I don’t know. I guess I’ll go now,” He mutters. Stephen raises his hand.

“Try looking somewhere else. ‘02. Mid 70’s. Good luck.”

Come on, vogue

Let your body move to the music (move to the music)

Hey, hey, hey

Come on, vogue

Let your body go with the flow (go with the flow)

You know you can do it

***

One Week Later- 1978

“Holy smokes, you are so good at this!”

Peter smiles and jiggles the joystick of the Space Invaders machine. The girl, Betty, is leaning over his shoulder, watching the screen intently. He’s nearly at 2000 points, but with one rogue alien his last life is taken. He throws his head back and groans. Betty shrieks and grabs Peter’s shoulders.

“Come on Pete, let’s go dance! ABBA is my absolute favorite,” She giggles, spinning Peter around. The brunette opens his mouth to respond, but he spots who’s standing at the Asteroids machine.

“Um, I actually-I’m sorry Betty. There’s someone I need to talk to. I’ll see you around?” Peter stutters, and the blonde’s face falls flat.

“Okay. Maybe 2005?”

Peter smiles and Betty rushes off.

“Tony. I know you know I’m here,” Peter says once it’s just him and Tony in the arcade corner. The game makes a sad beep as he slams on the machine. Peter flinches. “Talk to me. Why are you avoiding me?”

Tony turns around, arms crossed.

“Calm down.” He grunts, avoiding Peter’s gaze.

“Tony! Why?” Peter pleads, taking a step closer to the other man. Tony awkwardly shifts on his feet.

“I need change,” He explains; his face stony.

“Change my ass!” Peter nearly shouts. He doesn’t want to draw attention to himself, but it’s hard not to. “You’re hiding from me.”

“I don’t owe you shit , Peter.” Tony growls, finally snapping. Peter flinches in surprise. His tone makes the younger’s throat tighten.

“Now leave me alone,” Tony grumbles, running off into the crowd. Peter’s stomach drops to his toes, but he rushes after Tony. He keeps the man’s dark hair in view as he pushes past patron after patron, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he reaches the front door.

“Tony!” Peter cries once both of them are outside. He runs forward and grabs Tony’s thin wrist.

“Peter, stop it,” Tony says softly, resting his hand on Peter’s bicep. “I’m not here to fall in love.”

“Then what are you here for?” Peter asks, placing his free hand on Tony’s chest. “Why are you trying to fuckin’ fight this?”

“Because I’m not staying here,” Tony explains. “Once I’m gone, I’m gone. Screw this place. I like you, Peter. I really do. But this place-“ He looks around at the buildings on the street. “It’s not fair. Morgan-my daughter, my babygirl-she didn’t get this. It was cancer. She was 30. And my husband didn’t want this either. He was the light of my life, you know. A big blonde oaf. It wasn’t fair to take something Morgan didn’t have. So why should I?”

Peter’s breath catches in his throat.

“Oh Tony,” He mutters, and without thinking, he presses his lips to the other’s. Tony kisses back immediately, slipping his hand onto Peter’s cheek. The smaller man leans into Tony’s touch. Suddenly, a soft beep emerges from between them.

“Fuck,” Tony utters once they pull apart, lips slick and shiny with spit. “There’s 3 minutes until midnight.”

Peter doesn’t respond.

“Okay, um, next week. Meet me at the Quagmire,” Tony says hurriedly. Peter looks at him, confused. “It’s a club. Well, sort of. Just ask around and you’ll find it. How about 1987?”

“Yeah,” Peter whispers, “See you then.”

***

Next Week- 1987

In the middle of nowhere sits the broken down building of the Quagmire. The rows of motorcycles and smoke billowing out of the club tell him all he needs to know about the place. He quickly changes his outfit (one of the technological perks of San Junipero) to a more fitting look: a loose red t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and good old-fashioned Doc Martens. He feels awkward; he’s dressed like the guys he used to jack off to.

His boots crunch on the gravel as he walks up to the front doors, which are swung wide open. He can hear the faint thump of the music from above, as the only thing on the first floor is a staircase and a man slumped in the corner. Peter grimaces, and without touching the handrail, he walks up the stairs. The music gets louder and the smell of weed gets more potent. There’s a few people mulling around in the hallway leading to the main room. A guy with black-rimmed eyes blows smoke up into the air and a girl with a fucking snake around her shoulders winks at him. He gives her a weak smile and steps into the crowd.

There’s cages hanging from the ceiling with pierced girls in them and everyone’s in leather. It feels like the place Harry would always try to get him to go to back when they were in college.

He never went.

Instead of dancing, the people around him are grinding and kissing each other. It’s awkward and Peter’s too caught up in the mess of people to focus on where’s he going; he runs into a very hard body.

“Woah there, sugar,” The man purrs as Peter stumbles backward. He opens his mouth to respond, but no sound comes out. The man is gorgeous, with a perfect smile, sharp jaw, scruffy beard, and loose strands of long brown hair that frame his pretty face.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter stammers, feeling trapped in the low light of the club. The man laughs and claps him on the shoulder.

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” He grumbles, taking a swig of his beer.

“Pete!”

Peter jumps and whips his head around, catching an eyeful of a grinning Tony. His steps are wobbly as  he walks over to Peter, slinging his arm around the younger’s shoulders. Peter can smell alcohol on Tony’s breath, hinting that he’s turned his pain meter down, leaving him vulnerable to the effects of liquor.

“Is this your new boy toy, Stark?” The man opposite them drawls. His comment makes Peter flush.

“Shut the hell up, Barnes,” Tony laughs, pulling Peter closer to his side. “I take it you met my friend ?”

Peter won’t lie, the word stings. But no one seems to notice, because Barnes just scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“I did not, mind you,” He says before turning to Peter. “I’m Bucky. What’s your name, doll?”

Peter preens at the pet name.

“Peter,” He replies, his hand gently brushing against Tony’s jeans. He feels good like this, he feels like they look good together . “It’s my first time here-fifth time in San Junipero.”

Bucky nods with a soft ‘ah.’

“I see you’ve already gotten caught up with Anthony. Can’t blame you, honestly. He’s a real catch,” He drawls, tucking his free hand into his back pocket. “Well, I’ll leave you alone. My husband’s lookin’ for me.”

Bucky disappears into he crowd.

“Finally, some alone time,” Tony groans, nudging Peter’s chestnut curls with his nose.

“Alone? You think this is alone?” Peter scoffs, pressing his cheek to Tony’s leather jacket. “We’re packed between people right now.”

Tony laughs loud enough that Peter can hear him clearly over the pounding rock music.

“Let’s dance, baby!” He shouts, ignoring the question. Peter giggles and lets Tony shove people out of the way to get on the dance floor. He wraps his arms around Peter’s torso and tucks his face in the crook of the younger’s neck. Peter’s breath hitches as Tony nips at the skin of his neck.

“You’re a good dancer,” He slurs, jerking his hips against Peter’s ass. The brunette’s face is on fire as Tony sways him back and forth to the beat of the music. Peter can feel himself start to chub up in his jeans, much to his embarrassment.

“ Tony ,” He groans, but he doesn’t think he can be heard over the music. Tony continues to rock his crotch against his backside, muttering sweet nothings into his ear. Peter can feel how hard the older man is, and his blood boils at the fact that he did this to him. They stay there for a while, swaying and grinding on each other. The rest of the room becomes a blur as they stand there, intertwined.

“Come to the bathroom with me,” Tony mutters in Peter’s ear; his fingers grazing over the heated skin of the younger’s stomach. “I want your mouth on me.”

A pathetic whine escapes Peter’s lips, and he nods. Tony swerves him around the metalhead party-goers and into a poorly-lit hallway. A couple is making out against the peeling wall,  and Peter keeps his eyes down as Tony leads him into the men’s bathroom.

“Holy shit, I’m so fuckin’ hard,” Tony grunts, fumbling with the handle of one of the stalls. The door swings open with a clang, and Tony ushers him into the stall. Without being prompted, Peter falls to his knees and squeezes Tony’s bulge through his jeans. The older man’s eyes flutter shut and he sighs softly. With nimble fingers, Peter undoes the metal of his belt and tucks his cock out of his jeans. It’s rock hard already, flushed red and leaking. Tentatively, Peter flicks his tongue over the head of his cock. Tony groans, tangling his fingers through Peter’s curls. The younger boy slips his lips around the head, using his tongue to massage under it. A litany of curses falls from Tony’s lips as Peter takes more of his member into his mouth. The stretch makes Peter’s dick jump in his jeans. A spurt of precum leaks onto his tongue, the salty taste making his stomach churn. Peter reaches up and cups Tony’s heavy balls in the palm of his hand. He shouts and yanks Peter’s hair, giving the boy more encouragement to keep sucking. He can’t go too deep, he hasn’t done this much before, but he makes up his lack of experience with enthusiasm. As he lavishes Tony’s cock, the sound of the bathroom door opening makes him freeze.

Tony bites his fist as he cums in Peter’s mouth.

Peter swallows all his release as quietly as he can, tucking the man’s cock back into his boxers and pulling up his jeans. Tony’s chest heaves as he comes down from the high of his climax. Peter’s still unbelievably hard, and he stands up on shaky legs. Tony pulls the boy into his arms and slips his thigh between his legs. Peter moans into Tony’s shirt at the pressure against his crotch.

“Hump my thigh,” Tony growls into Peter’s ear as the other patron flushes the toilet. Peter whines and curls the older man’s shirt in his hands. He does as he’s told, desperately grinding down onto Tony. With his soft words of encouragement, Peter cums in his pants.

“ Tony ,” The brunette cries once the other man leaves the restroom, resting his head against Tony’s chest.

He strokes Peter’s curls and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m so fuckin’ stupid,” Tony grumbles. “You’re gorgeous. And right here in front of me.”

Peter looks up at Tony, confused.

“You’re babbling, handsome,” He mutters, reaching upwards and tracing Tony’s lips with his finger.

“Let me see you,” Tony grumbles, resting his hands on Peter’s hips. “Let me see you in person.”

Peter’s heart skips a beat.

“You could live across the country,” He says softly, running his thumb over the bit of stubble that graces Tony’s cheek.

“But I don’t. You’re Peter Parker and you live in Arcata. I’m in San Fransisco. It’s only a four hour drive.”

“That should be creepy but it’s kind of hot,” Peter mumbles, grazing his lips against Tony’s. “But why?”

“Just let me see you,” Tony pleads, resting his forehead against Peter’s. “Everything-it’s tearing me up inside.”

Peter smiles and bumps his nose against Tony’s.

***

Next Monday -Present Day- 2045

Peter’s room is submerged in darkness, like usual. His legs still ache, but the sharp pain in his ribs has shown up again. He should tell Miss Williams once she comes for his three o’clock checkup. But he’ll have to wait throughout visitation hours, because he needs all the rest he can get. Recently, he’s been way more tired and worn down than usual.

“Peter? Are you awake?”

The man sits up in his bed slowly, rubbing his eyes with his palms. The door to his room is cracked open, and Miss Williams has her head poked inside.

“Yeah,” Peter croaks. “M’awake.”

The lights to his room turn on and Miss Williams opens the door all the way.

“You have a visitor.”

Miss Williams enters his room, a pretty red-head following her and helping a frail old man into the room.

“ Tony? ” Peter whispers as Miss Williams closes the door. Tony smiles, the wrinkles on his face deepening. Peter’s mouth stays parted in awe as the redhead helps Tony over to the chair next to his bed.

“Hi, pumpkin,” The old man says softly, taking Peter’s left hand in his own. His hands are warm and soft and thin, with callouses on every fingertip. “You’re so beautiful.”

Peter looks down at their intertwined hands bashfully. Tony raises Peter’s hand to his lips, and presses a kiss to his pale skin.

“I can stomach your face,” Peter quips; Tony rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Just kidding. You’re a stud.”

They both erupt in a fit of giggles. Peter’s sides hurt, in a good way, for the first time in months.

“Hospice?” Tony asks once they catch their breath, his tone serious. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Miss Williams and the redhead’s conversation awkwardly falls flat. Peter traces one of the small scars on Tony’s left hand with the tip of his finger.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Peter mumbles, continuing to avoid Tony’s heavy gaze. “It’s not like we’re going to be seeing each other for much longer.”

Tony flinches at the blow his words deliver. Ever so slightly, he squeezes Peter’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Tony utters, his voice so quiet it’s barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Apologizing isn’t going to do much,” Peter chimes, a single tear threatening to slip from his eye. “Not unless you stay.”

“Oh you, there’s no use in crying,” Miss Williams cuts in, grabbing a box of tissues from the small cluster of cabinets in the corner of the room. Peter takes them, taking one tissue out and batting his eyes. “I think you two need to seriously talk. Miss Potts and I will leave you alone.”

Peter gives the two nurses a weak smile as they leave his room.

“I went through all the letters he’s ever written me. Steve-my husband- he really hated the technology,” Tony explains. “I just feel so terrible. I love you Peter, I do, but it’s a disservice to him.”

Peter sucks in a deep breath.

“You love me?” He asks, voice hoarse.

“I’d be crazy if I didn’t,” Tony laughs, stroking the knobby bone of Peter’s wrist. “I’d be so fucking bonkers.”

Peter rolls his big doe eyes, the tips of his eyelashes tickling his eyelids.

“I think you’re already crazy. I think that’s what makes you so charming.”

Tony shakes his head as Peter gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“I think that’s why I’m so in love with you.

***

That Saturday-1992

The glass back door of Tony’s house slides open with a soft ‘woosh’. The wind blowing from the ocean makes goosebumps appear on Peter’s arms, and he pulls his flannel closer to his body. In the distance, the flames of the campfire lick up at the night sky.

Oh, and Tony’s waving his arms like an idiot.

“Peter!” He shouts as loud as he can. “Over here!”

Peter laughs and shakes his head before taking off over the sand, letting the wind rush past him. It’s oddly exhilarating, but he comes to a stop once he reaches Tony and his little camp area.

“My baby,” Tony purrs, wrapping his arms around Peter’s torso and spinning him around. Peter shrieks happily and grips onto Tony’s neck for support. The older man puts him down and immediately presses his lips to Peter’s. Like the roaring fire, Tony’s touch warms him to the core.

“What’s all this?” Peter asks quietly, eyeing the plaid blanket lain on the sand, the wicker basket that holds a bottle of wine, and the bouquet of roses.

“Since we’ve never had a proper date,” Tony explains, brushing a stray curl out of Peter’s eyes. “I thought I’d treat you tonight.”

Tony pulls Peter to the blanket, and the brunette sits down happily. He pushes his bare toes into the sand as Tony sits down next to him. He hands Peter a wine glass and takes one for himself, pouring the red liquid in both.

“And before you ask,” Tony says as he raises his glass to his lips. “My pain meter’s all the way up.”

Peter scoffs and takes a sip of his wine. He’s never been a huge fan of wine, but this-it’s good. His eyes wander to Tony’s face, and he takes a second studying the curves of the man. The point of his nose, the line of his jaw, the pout of his lips.

“Tony?” Peter asks, breaking the silence. The man responds with a soft ‘hm?’

“I died last night.”

Tony doesn’t respond; he just looks up at the stars. Then he turns his head to Peter, and smiles.

“I’m just glad you’re not in pain anymore.”

The tension, that Peter didn’t even realize was there, leaves his body. He rests his head on the older man’s shoulder, his cheek pressed to the softness of Tony’s sweatshirt.

“I’ve been looking for a nice place to live,” Peter rambles, his glass of wine forgotten. “They really have everything here.”

Peter slips two fingers in one of the rips on Tony’s jeans.

“Stay here,” Tony says softly. “This is practically your home now.”

The crashing of the waves echoes in his ears.

“It’s not home without you. It’ll never be home without you here with me.”

Under the moonlight, Tony smiles sadly.

***

Three Months Later-1987

It’s Wednesday when he finds him.

Peter’s browsing the shelves of Paige’s Bookstore, sipping on the rest of his leftover iced tea from lunch. The small shop has been one of Peter’s favorite places since he’s passed over. It’s in a quieter, smaller part of town, and it overlooks the sea perfectly.

Peter’s fingers stop on the spine of a copy of The Picture of Dorian Grey when the bell to the front door chimes softly. The brunette doesn’t pay any attention, and keeps browsing, until he hears the voice of the new customer.

“Good afternoon! Do you sell books here?”

Peter’s heart drops to his toes. He peers around one of the shelves to peek at the front door and-

It’s Tony.

“Tony!” Peter exclaims, failing to contain his excitement. Tony’s egotistical facade drops, and he stands there in awe. Peter, as carefully he can, rushes across the small room, and leaps into Tony’s arms. It feels so good to be back in his arms, encased by warmth and love. Tony presses kiss after kiss onto Peter’s cheeks.

Edith, the owner of the shop, coos at the two of them.

Peter may have spilt his guts to the woman the first time he met her.

“You came,” The younger cries, bubbling with glee. “You actually took the tech.”

Tony laughs and cups both of Peter’s cheeks in his hands.

“I would’ve been a fool if I didn’t,” He mutters, kissing Peter once more.

“Okay lovebirds, if you’re not going to buy anything, get out of my shop.”

Edith has never been the nicest lady.

Peter giggles, though, and bids the woman goodbye as Tony pulls him out of the shop and into the sun. He takes his sunglasses out of his pocket and slips them onto the bridge of his nose.

“I love you,” Peter sings, leaning forward to kiss Tony, but landing on his cheek. “I love you, Tony Stark.”

Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, heaven is a place on earth

They say in heaven, love comes first

We'll make heaven a place on earth

Ooh, heaven is a place on earth

Wind in his hair, salt on his lips, and a smile on his face . Tony presses down on the gas, shouting as they fly down one of the backroads of the city. Peter throws his head back and laughs; his sunglasses almost escaping his grasp.

When the night falls down

I wait for you and you come around

And the world's alive with the sound

Of kids on the street outside

“I love you, Peter Parker!” Tony shouts over the wind, honking the horn twice.

When you walk into the room

You pull me close and we start to move

And we're spinning with the stars above

And you lift me up in a wave of love

Tony slows when he reaches a dead end, leaving them atop a small hill. He shuts the car off and sighs, reaching over to squeeze Peter’s thigh.

Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, heaven is a place on earth

They say in heaven love comes first

We'll make heaven a place on earth

Ooh, heaven is a place on earth

Leaving over the dashboard, Tony hungrily kisses Peter on the lips. As the sit there making out, under the sun, with the breeze from the ocean, Peter can only think:

They’re going to be just fine.

The End.

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

I want more hk headcanons please. ÒwÓ

Thanks for the ask!

You might want to head over to @hongkongenthusiast and ask them, because I haven’t paid that much thought to HK (if you are @hongkongenthusiast then what are you doing here you probably have a million more headcanons than me lol). However, I shall try to satisfy you:

- I have an (probably forever) unfinished College AU Iceland x Reader, and in it I set HK as a tech savvy business student whose part time job is getting called to dorms to fix people’s devices, and he makes a decent amount of money off of that. He’s also a Soundcloud artist in the AU, and I can honestly see that in canonverse too. (Also, I’m calling for ANY college/school AU headcanons! Just drop them in the asks or something! I love thinking about that stuff!!)

- HK has memes. Lots of them. He makes memes out of the countries’ faces too; at world meetings, if one of them has some strange reaction to something, he manages to take a picture and make it grosser, then posts it on social media. 

- Goes to get togethers with the younger/teen nations where they try to do normal human teen stuff. Sometimes China lets HK host it at China’s house because it’s bigger than HK’s, and usually he just turns it into a big party (and a Big Headache for China: if HK’s theme song is anything to go by, I can see China being like “Turn off the loud banging! Respect your elder’s ears!” lol)

- He’s so fashionable it hurts. Like he’s always on the trends, has Top Brands and stuff. Or at least it looks like that to others, nobody can really tell if he’s wearing a real Gucci coat or if it’s one of his knockoffs.

- I just read a bit of Wikipedia on HK’s history with a) China, b) England, c) Japan, and d) England again, and so: HK probably would’ve been a kid when he got handed over to England, since he didn’t really industrialize/grow in population or infrastructure until England came along, and I think that would physically make him young. England (in accordance with @hongkongenthusiast ‘s headcanon) was more like HK’s teacher than his temporary parent. I think England would have (being an arrogant bastard like all the old dirtbags) prided himself on being Gentlemanly and Civilized and Industrialized, and he “taught” HK that stuff (England’s colonial occupation brought things like buses and trains and communication lines to HK). Basically England introduced him to the products of the Western world, and kinda opened his eyes to what Europe was like? Or at least what England was sorta like. But there also seemed (correct me if wrong) to be a certain amount of racism present between colonizer and colony? There was apparently a 3rd Episode of the Bubonic Plague and it hit HK, and all Europeans were moved to a place called Victoria Peak; lots of the people living there were the elites, who could have as many as 20 Chinese servants (the move can be argued as health precaution or racial zoning). So idk how much England actually “loved” HK, he might have just been exploiting him? And also, at the beginning of England’s rule there was a 6 day rebellion where some people decided to fight the English govt because they feared changes to traditional customs and stuff. If HK were involved I see him just playing on the street one day, and somehow being taken in by one of the leaders of the rebellion, and then learning about why those people were planning to fight for. After that I see Hong Kong being really skeptical of England at first, especially since China gave him up unwillingly. Idk how Chinese-HK relations were before the England colonization, but I hc China was sorta protective of HK, and he didn’t always tell Leon what was happening when things got bad... and I think collapse of the Qing and Opium War counts as things going bad... so I think Leon might have been under the delusion/impression that England was kinda just kidnapping him instead of trying to make his life better? But England wasn’t really trying to protect HK for his sake, he was just sorta looking for an advantage so... I think the Eng-HK relationship is kinda cold, not as warm as China-HK before everything went downhill. But HK, because his sorta-independence and infrastructure development, started growing more physically.

As for the Japanese invasion, they pretty brutally struck opposition down when they arrived. The British pulled out quickly, and I think that’s the nail in the coffin for England and Hong Kong, idk how apathetic HK looked/felt when he was young, but I think he’d at least be a little hurt that England first took him away from China and then just left him to fend for himself when things were rough... even if after the brief occupation England and HK kinda went back to normal, the power transition was smooth. Ok I don’t plan on turning this into historical hetalia but basically I’m conflicted on HK-Eng-Chn-Jpn relations in history.

- I don’t know how long it takes in the morning to make hair look like HK’s, but I think he must have a pretty extensive beauty/care routine? In the young people internet age with selfies and everything, I think he’d do his best to Look GoodTM (for the cameras, of course).

- I think HK is always up for a day just lazing chilling around his house, perhaps watching TV or texting Emil or the other young nations. He might also go to China’s to annoy him.

- Lowkey cares about people (also taken from @hongkongenthusiast) but doesn’t show it often. I think he and Taiwan both have a thing where they panic if something bad happens to China, but Taiwan shows her panic more, while HK is just internally screaming. Teacher’s ill?? Why? He hasn’t been sick lately, what’s wrong with him? Idk or maybe I’m being too sympathetic to China, it might not be this way after the HK protests and stuff.

- Also, if an Elder (looking @ you China and England) catches him swearing, HK is a master of censoring things, or making up code words. This is kinda inspired by the protestor code words, like “I’m doing magic” means “I’m lighting something on fire” for the HK protests. But in regular contexts, he’s very good at covering up sensitive information.

- He doesn’t have as many nation-duties as China or England, so he’s got more time to do human stuff. I think he’d like to go wandering around the city and seeing what the trends are, and maybe send some funny photos back to the young nation group chat or something.

- He’s stated to be punished by England for setting off firecrackers, and I’m pretty sure he figured out England hated those (because 1. they’re loud and 2. they remind him of America’s Independence Day firework celebrations and 3. maybe he doesn’t like Chinese New Year because it was a tie that connected HK to China and the rest of the Asians? That tie could have inspired loyalty with the Asians and tore him away from England). Therefore, because HK is a prankster and quietly mischievous, I think he just liked them more because he found out it annoyed England. Also they’re loud and fiery and I think he’d appreciate that?

Ok that’s it I’ve run out of headcanons for him. Thanks for asking and ask for more if you want (but I probably won’t give you many back)!

[ghost--facers]

S01E02 - Wendigo (Part Five)

A/N: Hey guys, I’m back! Wow, it has only been like two years! Hahaha. I finally found Supernatural again and I started binging and I just couldn’t get writing out of my head! So here it is: part five of the second episode of the Series One (Wendigo) imagine series I’m doing where I rewrite the reader into Supernatural. Feedback is appreciated and if you want to be tagged in the next part please let me know! I hope you like it x

Characters: Dean (eventual Dean x reader), Sam, Hailey (+ other characters from the episode)

Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 2695

Description: The reader continues to hunt the Wendigo with the Winchester Brothers.

----

Episode One

Wendigo : Part One    Part Two    Part Three   Part Four

----

“Alright. Listen up!” Sam begun, nudging past you as he walked into the centre of th

After making makeshift bombs for around 30 minutes, which would’ve probably taken less time if Dean hadn’t had to teach Haley how to do it several times, you began to move away from camp. You had managed to control your nerves, for now anyway, and had only grabbed onto Dean’s jacket once but as a sign of affection. The patience he had with Hailey was incredible and you couldn’t help but smile when he kept looking over and rolling his eyes a little. You shouldn’t really smile at that, but it made you feel a little special that you were able to do it and she couldn’t… although you kept thinking that maybe you should have pretended to not understand how to make a homemade bomb so he could spend more time with you.

“Don’t you fucking dare start liking him, [y/n].” You mumbled to yourself.

“What?” Sam spoke, turning around to face you. He had clearly heard you mumble… hopefully not any exact words otherwise he’d be able to predict immediately. 

“Oh, nothing. Just humming a song.” You lied, before jogging up so you could walk next to him. Hailey and her brother were all in front of you and you were all following Dean who was leading the way.

“This is tiring.” You smiled, trying to make the whole situation, which was becoming eerie, more lighthearted. No one responded, but you heard a few scoffs from some of them. You were hoping one of them was from Dean.

___

“Are we setting up camp soon or like….?” You asked, bending down a little.

You had been walking for quite a while now and you could tell because it was hard to see. The sun had gone to bed and everything was one hundred times more creepy. The leaves seemed to crunch underfoot at a higher volume and the wind whistled through the trees like it was the last time it could and it was making the most of it. You hated it. But you couldn’t turn back.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, causing you to stand back up and look over. 

Sam had taken over as lead a while ago but Dean didn’t join you at the back, unfortunately, and you couldn’t catch up with him because you weren’t fast enough.

“What is it?” You heard him reply, and ran over to sit next to him. You were nosy and wanted to know what was happening. Plus, you really didn’t want to be at the back anymore… it was getting too creepy.

“Shit.” Your murmured, looking around all the trees that each had a massive claw mark ripped into it which were covered in blood.

Sam then pushed you and Dean to the side, but quite unexpectedly so you freaked out a little bit but calmed down when you noticed who it was.

“You know, I was thinking that those claw prints are so clear and distinct… they were almost too easy to follow.” He whispered.

“Like… it’s a trap?” You answered, swivelling around to face both of them.

They didn’t have time to answer, as a growl surrounded all your ears and you whipped around in all possible angles to check if something was there. You hadn’t noticed you had backed up, trying to get closer to Dean, until you hit him.

“Sorry.” You muttered, still frantically looking around.

“Don’t be.” He replied, before grabbing your hand in his and giving it a little squeeze before releasing. 

It had only been for a second, but your heart couldn’t take it and your nervous stomach, that was making you feel ill, got overtaken by butterflies who were making you motion sick.

You looked at Dean who was searching around, for a shadow that had flittered past, and you felt comfortable in his presence; even if you were being chased by a Wendigo. 

However, your uncomfortableness soon reared its ugly head again as you heard a loud scream erupt from Hailey and a loud thud followed. 

You turned around quickly, searching around for Hailey, who was now sprawled across the floor, and directly next to her was a body. The butterflies had left, replaced again with pure dread, as you and Sam ran up to her to ask if she was okay.

As Sam lifted her from the ground, you turned your attention back towards Dean who was leaning over the body. It was Roy. The sickness rose. You didn’t like the man, but he didn’t deserve the fate he met.

“His neck is broken.” Dean softly spoke, drawing his attention to the forest canopy.

The snarls continued, growing louder, destroying the time for mourning.

“Okay, run, run! Go, go, go, go!” Dean screamed, giving you no time to think as he pushed you forward.

You were thankful for this though, your brain had given up. It wasn’t used to seeing all the death and pain that people had to endure. 

You, like everyone else, ran forward, not worrying about if your legs would suddenly collapse. Although you felt like they would. You heard someone’s legs actually do this, but didn’t turn around. You knew you would feel guilty about it later, but right now you were just focused on running. 

A little too fast though, as you suddenly crashed into someone or something. 

Your head burned and your body stung in every possible place. And then it went black. 

___

“Dean? Sam?” You whispered hoarsely. Your eyes began to burn as you opened, dust settling over the lids. “Dean? Sam?”

You couldn’t help but cry out as you saw the decrepit place you were being held. The rope bore into your skin, the dry air attacking your lungs. Where were you? What had happened? A low growl murmured through the underground pathway. Tears escaped your eyes, you were locked up, abandoned. You could even be dead, you didn’t know.

“Guys please.” You could only manage a whisper as you floated back into unconsciousness. 

___

“[Y/N], it’s okay sweetheart, we got you.”

You looked up at Dean smiling down at you. While the sky was a beautiful bright blue with not a single cloud in sight, you could only focus on the beauty put before you. Dean smiled down at you, a sense of concern glazing over his eyes. What a perfect moment it was, just you and Dean. Even if you had just fallen flat on the floor...

You closed your eyes, a smile plastered on your face - this moment could never be beaten. You slipped your hand into his, feeling the warmth of his palm and the tightness of his grip. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was sliming down at you, but you opened your eyes nonetheless.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Dean assured, holding onto your waist, gripping you tight.

When your eyes opened you thought you’d see the young, bright face of an eighteen-year-old Dean, so fresh and full of life. What was actually looking down at you was the dirty, stern face of a much older Dean that had clearly been to the depths of Hell and back.

Tears streamed down as you recalled your situation, being close to death tied up underground by a Supernatural being. A Supernatural being you didn’t even know existed until yesterday. Mostly you were crying because you’d been found, and Dean was holding you tight as you went through this terrifying experience.

“My knight in shining armour.” You scoffed as he untied your wrists, allowing blood to flood to them again. “At least I know I’ve always got you to save me.”

Dean dropped the rope to the floor and grabbed your waist once again, looking down at your intently. You felt yourself blush as you looked back up at him. Hopefully, the dirt caked across your face would hide it. 

“Always, [Y/N].” He whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of your forehead. “Always.”

“Guys, come on,” Sam muttered, breaking the moment. It didn’t do anything to stop the swirling in your stomach though. “Let’s go find, Tommy.”

You spent a couple minutes adjusting to the environment, grabbing onto Dean for support, before you felt stable enough to pick up the pace and walk yourself. You trapsed through the underground corridors with Sam, Dean, Haley, and her brother by your side and soon enough you came across another body hanging and limp.

“No.” Haley gasped running towards the lifeless body in front of us. 

She grabbed hold of him, trying to hide the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. You couldn’t look, you couldn’t imagine how she must be feeling. You lowered your head, suppressing tears of your own.

A sudden gasp brought your attention back to Tommy. He was awake. Breathing. Alive! The joy on Haley’s face was unimaginable, and everyone began clamouring toward him.

“Cut him down,” Haley spoke, holding onto her brother's face. 

You moved toward his and helped Sam with cutting the rope holding Tommy’s legs, lowering him to the ground, and removing the bindings on his feet.

“It’s okay. We’re gonna get you home.” Haley spoke as a smile of relief broke across Tommy’s face.

You looked at his face once more before glancing over at Dean. He was rummaging through some bags and pulled out two objects which looked like guns. A few weeks ago that would’ve surprised you but your facial expression now didn’t change.

“Check it out!” Dean spoke as he waved the guns, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“Flare guns. Those will work.” Sam responded, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Let’s get going then.” You smiled back at Sam before looking over at Dean. You thought you saw him wink at you but maybe you were wrong… it was dark after all.

____

You began walking through the corridors once more, eyes alert for any movement. You were scared, you couldn’t deny it, but there was no way a Wendigo was gonna defeat you.

I’m not dying in a fucking cave, you thought to yourself, and even if I did, I’ll go down fighting.

“Looks like someone’s home for supper.” Dean scoffed, as a low rumble ran down the cave.

“We’ll never outrun it!” Haley exclaimed. For a girl who's just been through so much, her face was plagued with steely determination. 

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Dean asked Sam, with them exchanging glances between them. You knew at some point you’d be privy to their physic plans too and you couldn’t wait.

“I think so.” He responded, hiking up the flair even higher.

“Alright, listen to me. Stay with Sam. He’s gonna get you out of here.” Dean turned facing all of you.

“What are you gonna do?” Haley’s concern grew.

“Dean, you can’t face that thing alone.” You whispered, a tremor becoming more apparent.

He just looked at you, winked again, and ran out into another lane.

“He’s a fucking idiot.” You sighed as he screams out “It’s chow time, you freaking bastard”.

He continued screaming as you stayed by Sam’s side. You knew he was more than capable but it didn’t hurt any less and your mind couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if he failed.

“All right, come on. Hurry!” Sam shouted, urging you guys to move into a different area. For once in your life, you were obedient and followed him.

You continued through the tunnel, hearing the growl of the beast rising. 

“Get out of here,” Sam spoke, nodding towards the exit of the cave.

“No!’ Haley replied.

“Come on.” You spoke. It hurt your heart to leave Sam but you knew they had a plan and that they’d be able to survive. They had to survive. “He’ll be fine, let’s go.”

Haley looked at you and you felt a sense of admiration from her as you looked back. You managed a weak smile as you lead them out of the cave and into the brightness.

You wished it was as easy as that but the Wendigo appeared from nowhere. The sound of its growls was deafening and it unnerved you to hear him chasing after you.

It’ll all be okay, you spoke to yourself as you listened to both the growls and the screams attacking you from all sides.

“Get behind me!” Sam spoke, as he covered you all with his width. You looked as the Wendigo closed in on you. 

Well, I guess I am dying in a cave you muttered shutting your eyes tight. What even was your life right now?

You opened your eyes to face your killer and its gargantuan frame glared back. The off-grey skin covered in sparse white hairs seemed only fitting for this crooked nose monster. It was horrific, everything about it. But you stared. There was no way you weren’t facing it in your last moments.

“Hey!” Dean screamed, causing it to turn around only to be greeted with flare. It burned inside of it, melting it to the ground as it cried out in agony. In the end, there was nothing left, just a heap of flames on the ground.

“Not bad, huh?” Dean smiled, plaguing the rest of you with a smile too.

“Not bad at all.” You grinned shaking your head at him.

____

You were sat at the steps on the information cabin at the Ridge, staring off into space. You’d just spoken to the local police about the 900-pound grizzly you’d faced that had terrorised your camp and killed a member of your group. It was complete shit, but as if the police force would actually believe you.

“Hey,” Dean whispered, saddling up beside you. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t be. You’ve saved my life twice now.” You smirked up at him. “Whatever can I do to repay my knight in shining armour?”

“I could think of a few things.” He smirked back as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Truly though, I am sorry.” He spoke, placing an arm around you. “I didn’t mean to be a dick and I hurt you.”

“It’s okay, Dean. I forgive you.” You replied, leaning into him. “Oh, and I heard what you called out when I ran to get Roy.” 

“I didn’t say anything.” You replied, blushing.

“Mhmm. You’re cute.” He laughed, although it came out as a whisper, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear.

A smile swarmed across your face.

You wanted to say more. About how much it meant to you to be back with them, how much you loved being around him, and what you actually felt about him, even if you didn’t know what it fully was yet. But you couldn’t, so you just closed your eyes, snuggled into him more and felt his arm tighten around you.

____

You watched Haley and her brother drive away in the back of an Ambulance with Tommy. You were perched in between Sam and Dean with a police blanket wrapped around you.

“Man, I hate camping,” Dean muttered, as you all watched the vehicle drive away. “Me too,” Sam replied.

“Me fucking three.” You sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter, the boys laughing as you did so.

“Hey, Sam, you know we’re going to find Dad right?” Dean spoke after listening to multiple sighs coming from Sam’s direction.

“Yeah, I know.” He responded. “But in the meantime, I’m driving.”

“Ooohh, this just got good.” You laughed. “Shotgun!”

“Wait, not fair.” Dean protested.

“Sorry Dean, but she did call shotgun.”

Dean fished into his pocket, producing the keys before throwing them over to Sam. He looked so heartbroken.

“Poor baby.” You said as you ruffled his hair and clamoured into the passenger seat.

You could see the worry radiating off of him as he got into the very back of the Impala and stretched his legs over the seat.

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” He tried to convince himself, closing his eyes as he did so.

You saw your window of opportunity and moved the blanket off you and draped it over him as he lied down.

“Goodnight little baby.” You whispered, hearing Sam laugh and Dean trying to cover his own amusement.

----

Tags: @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @jules12345678910 @anolympianhero @cra-zy-vib-es1999 @sherlock44 @for-a-brothers-love @puppies-make-me-extra-happy @dean-is-my-favorite @a-little-bit-of-everythin @dean-is-a-cutie @be-with-me-for-evermore @tbk28 @haveyoumetmeyet @that-was-scary @in-deans-arms @it-could-go-off @dean-is-my-superhero @kgbrenner @kingkenzieo @the-angels-stole-the-tardis @shizzybarnaclee @mellowlandrunaway2 @captainjacklynmarie

(Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!)

[miguel-manbemel]

Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 34: The Vacation Part 1: A Rough Start

I thought I wouldn’t have this finished on time, as I’ve been writing all the monologues with the Sides, making that Roman video and then also writing the Spanish subtitles for the new episode of Sanders Sides. But I got it just on time, and here it is. It’s the first part of a story which I don’t know yet how many parts it will have. We’ll find out together. Now, without further ado, I leave you with the story and I hope you enjoy it. Until next time.

SYNOPSIS: Thomas and the Sides travel to Sandersia to spend a week of vacation in the Royal Castle with Roland and Ira. The objective is for Remus and Roland to get to know each other and eventually become friends, so that Roland will let Remus and Janus marry in the Royal Castle with Logan and Patton. But Remus has all kinds of doubts about it and the day is not going to end in very good terms...

WARNINGS: Romantic prinxiety, logicality and dukeceit. There’s a scene featuring an apparent death, and a lot of angst, especially from Remus.

EPISODE INDEX

[Remus and Janus are inside the royal carriage going through Sandersia towards the royal castle. Roman and Virgil are sitting in front of them]

REMUS: [nervous] I don’t know if this is a good idea, guys…

JANUS: Why? It’s only a week of vacation. You have nothing to worry about.

REMUS: Honey, I appreciate that you lie to try and comfort me, but you and I both know this is more than a vacation, at least for me.

ROMAN: Remus, relax. If you behave just like you’ve been behaving with us the previous weeks, there’s nothing you should be afraid of… Well, maybe bringing crushed cockroaches to his door like you usually do to mine is not a good idea if you want to impress my brother Roland, but you know what I mean, right?

REMUS: What about it? It’s a proof of my undying brotherly love for you, Roman! I'm bringing you the delicious products of my hunting around my room!

ROMAN: [trying to hide disgust] Yes, of course, Remus, of course…

REMUS: [over dramatically offended] Okay, whatever, it’s your loss! The next one I catch, I’ll cook and eat it myself, and I won’t share!

JANUS: Hearing that makes me long to be a real snake again… at least as a snake I could eat that without feeling nausea…

[intro sequence]

REMUS: Ugh, this carriage is taking forever. Didn’t you say that this thing used to travel at lightspeed? It doesn’t look so.

ROMAN: Yeah, I know. Since the Dark Master manipulated the royal carriages, we haven’t been able to figure out how to put them back to normal. We’ll have to deal with that for the time being. At least, they’re still convenient to travel, even if not faster than a regular car of the outer world.

VIRGIL: Also, maybe it’s not a good idea to have two carriages at the same time running at that speed. We could crash against Thomas and the others’ carriage if they stopped abruptly for some reason, and Thomas could get hurt. I mean, all of us could get hurt, but Thomas is human and his wounds wouldn’t heal as easily, so…

ROMAN: Yeah, maybe so…

REMUS: And I don’t know what your brother expects from me! How can I please him if I don’t know him or what he wants?

ROMAN: Well, that’s what we’re going there for, Remus. Your task is to get to know him and let him get to know you, and eventually become friends.

REMUS: [beat] And then, we’ll live happily ever after, right? We’re the Sanders Sides, Roman, not the Brady Bunch.

ROMAN: But Remus…

REMUS: Let’s face facts, okay? Your brother hates me. He has a valid reason, of course, after what I did, but nothing I can do is gonna make him stop hating me.

ROMAN: But…

REMUS: If saving your son from the clutches of the Dark Master himself didn’t change his opinion about me, I doubt I can do anything else to convince him… This is a mistake, we should go back.

ROMAN: [loud and a bit angry] NO!

[there’s a short silence, then Roman continues]

ROMAN: You’re not gonna run away from this without at least trying! You owe it to him, like you said, after what you did to him! At least, make the effort to fix things for once in your life! I’m tired of having to mediate between my two brothers, not being able to share time with both of you at the same time!

REMUS: But he’s your brother, Roman, not mine! I don’t owe him anything!

ROMAN: That’s bold of you to say considering that you would have killed him if Ira hadn’t stopped you at the last second.

REMUS: [hurt] You’re never gonna let me live up with that, right, Roman? You will always hold that against me!

ROMAN: Remus, I already forgave you long ago, but it’s Roland to whom you did that. You have to earn his forgiveness too. I think it’s only fair that at least you try to apologize to him and show him that you have no ill will against him.

REMUS: But I have no ill will against him, you know it!

ROMAN: But he doesn’t know. I’m gonna tell you something he told me last time, but I beg you, please don’t mention him I told you. He’s still terribly scared of you. And even if he hadn’t told me verbally, he had already made that clear to me non-verbally. What you did to him… traumatized him to the point that your mere mention makes him go pale and slightly tremble. I noticed it the last time we spoke. He tries to hide it because he thinks that, as the regent prince, he has to show strength to govern this principality, or at least that he has to look like it. And I’m sure he wants to make me believe that he’s strong enough so that I think that nothing can affect him. But I’ve know him since he was a baby. I know when he’s scared, and you, Remus, you scare him to death.

REMUS: Why are you telling me all of this? To make me feel even guiltier? To remind me that the blame for his suffering is all mine and I should go to hell for my past actions? To tell me that my struggle for doing better is useless and I should stop trying?

ROMAN: No, Remus, you’re taking it the wrong way. I’m telling you this to make you understand that your actions had consequences, and in order to be able to truly move on, you must try, at least, to fix those consequences the best that you can. I want to be able to tell my brother about you without causing him a panic attack and my biggest wish, even if probably impossible, is that you two managed to get along, or at least tolerate each other. He’s doing a big effort to make this work. I want that at least you do the same effort. If it doesn’t work out in the end, I’ll understand, but don’t give up without at least trying. Like I told Roland, if not for him, at least do it for me.

REMUS: [sighs] Okay… I can’t promise that I’ll fulfill your brother’s expectations in the end… but I will try, for you.

ROMAN: Thank you, brother. [singing sweetly] “That’s all I ask of you.”

JANUS: Phantom of the Opera, my favorite musical.

VIRGIL: [ironic] I wonder why? [looking out the window] Okay, guys, I think we’re arriving to the castle.

REMUS: [nervous] Oh, gosh…

JANUS: [holding Remus’ hand] Calm down, Rem. Remember we’re rooting for you.

REMUS: I hope so…

ROMAN: Your nervousness shows that you’re taking this pretty seriously. Thank you.

[the carriage stops in front of the castle, next to the other carriage. All the gang comes out of the carriages. Roland and Ira are waiting at the door. When Roland sees Remus he makes a tense face for a second, but puts himself together]

ROLAND: Greetings, guests. Welcome back to the castle.

THOMAS: It’s nice to be back, Roland.

ROMAN: Hi, Roland, nice to see you again. I… suppose you remember my brother Remus.

ROLAND: [frowning at him slightly] Yes, I do. [low voice, but not low enough so that they can’t hear him] Unfortunately…

REMUS: [ignoring that] How… how do you do, sir?

ROLAND: [sardonic] Oh, “sir”? You call me now sir? That’s new.

ROMAN: Roland… you promised.

ROLAND: I know… I know, sorry, you’re right. Let’s do as if nothing had happened and start over. Welcome to the castle, Remus.

REMUS: Thank you.

[Remus rises his hand. Roland hesitates for a second, then timidly reaches his hand to Remus’ and shakes hands with him. Remus can feel Roland’s hand trembling inside his and when he looks at his face he notices how pale he’s suddenly gone]

REMUS: Before anything else… I wanted to say that I’m sorry for everything I did to you. It was really bad and I understand that it probably is unforgivable. But I’m sorry, anyway, and I hope you accept my apologies. I promise I will never ever do that sort of thing again, by my noble title I swear.

ROLAND: [with a face of surprise] That’s… that’s actually kind of you to say. Okay, enough time spent at the door. Please, come in. Ira, show them their rooms. I have to take care of some urgent matters in my room.

IRA: It will be my pleasure.

ROLAND: I hope you excuse me right now, we’ll have time to talk later.

ROMAN: Of course, Roland. See ya later.

IRA: Follow me, guys.

ROMAN: Thank you, Ira.

[The gang enters the castle, following Ira, while Roland goes somewhere else]

IRA: You must excuse Roland today, he hasn’t been himself at all. He’s so nervous that this morning he dropped the teapot when he was about to serve himself a cup of coffee. It took two hours to clean the shattered teapot and the huge stain of coffee from the carpet, and the stain is still not gone completely.

ROMAN: I’m sorry to hear that.

REMUS: I guess it’s my fault.

IRA: It is, indeed… Oh, I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, but I suppose you understand this is not easy for him.

REMUS: It’s not easy for me either. I may act without thinking most of the time and I may love to pester everyone with all kinds of shenanigans, but I mean no real harm for anyone, and back then I wasn’t myself either. By the way, I never got the chance to thank you.

IRA: Thank me? For what?

REMUS: For stopping me at the last second before I did something unfixable. To think that I could have killed someone for real if you hadn’t arrived on time… I would have had that on my conscience, at leas the little amount of conscience I have in my brain, for all of my life. So, again, thank you for stopping me.

IRA: Well… you’re welcome, and I’m happy I could have been of help in your path to… redemption. I apologize too for the times I had to take control of your body in emergencies.

REMUS: It’s okay… as long as it happens in a real emergency and you don’t take too long. It’s a horrible feeling, like Roman and Patton can attest.

IRA: Of course. I’ll try not to do that again, unless I’m forced by circumstances. Well, we’re here. This is Patton and Logan’s room. I hope you like it.

LOGAN: It looks adequate.

PATTON: I love this room, [excited squeeing] and look, Logan, there’s a portrait of kittens on the main wall! I love this! Thank you, Ira!

IRA: I knew you would love it, Patton. See ya later guys.

[while Logan and Patton enter their room, the others follow Ira to the next door]

IRA: This room will be for Thomas, Ian and Chris.

THOMAS: Yeah, a room for the single ones. It will be like being back on the student residence when I was in college.

CHRIS: It could be fun.

IAN: Thank you, Ira.

IRA: You’re welcome.

[the others follow Ira to the next door]

IRA: This room will be for Roman and Virgil. I would have given you the royal suite as the Royal Princes of Sandersia, but I thought you would prefer to be all next to each other. I can set up the royal chamber if you want me to.

ROMAN: No, Ira, you guessed right. I prefer being next to my friends for the week, and this room is lovely too.

VIRGIL: Yes, thank you, Ira.

[Remus and Janus follow Ira to the last door]

IRA: And this is your room, guys. I hope you like it.

JANUS: It’s totally not great at all, Ira. Thank you.

IRA: You’re welcome.

REMUS: Yes, I suppose it’s okay. I’m not an expert in super clean rooms, so…

IRA: I… I prefer not to know what you’re talking about… Okay, now, if you excuse me, I’ve got some chores to do. I still have to finish up cleaning the coffee spot. I’ll go check on you later. See ya, guys.

JANUS: See ya, Ira. It’s so good to see you living your best life now. When I think that for some time, we had lost you.

IRA: That time is in the past now, thankfully. See ya later, my friend.

[Ira leaves them while Remus and Janus enter the room]

REMUS: Yes, it’s not a bad castle. Not as good as my own castle, but not bad at all.

JANUS: Are you feeling any better now, Remus?

REMUS: I wish, but the truth is that I’m not. I feel… I don’t know, like an octopus out of water, like… this was not my place, and everyone living here knew it and looked at me like a freak. Normally I wouldn’t care about it, but now, I do, and I don’t know why.

JANUS: Maybe it’s because you’re feeling a sense of responsibility you have never felt before. You don’t care about the others’ opinion, but you’re scared to disappoint Roman. Am I wrong?

REMUS: Maybe. I didn’t want to do this at all. If I’m unwanted somewhere, I don’t need to set a foot there. We could have married anywhere, even if it couldn’t have been the double wedding we had planned with Logan and Patton. But when Roman begged me like that the other day. I knew it was really important for him, and I acquiesced.

JANUS: You really love your brother, right?

REMUS: Yes, I do. Despite all, and even in my worst times, when I was enduring the worst isolation, I could never stop loving him. If this is important for him, I’ll do it.

[Janus holds Remus’ hand]

JANUS: I knew under all that exterior of madness and randomness of yours, there was a heart of gold. It’s just a little rusty of not using for a long time, but it’s gold nonetheless.

[Remus smiles lovingly at Janus, then kisses him. Meanwhile, Roman and Virgil are in their room]

VIRGIL: Roman, you look so worried.

ROMAN: I am worried, Virge. Very much.

VIRGIL: About Remus?

ROMAN: Of course. I’m afraid I’ve placed on his shoulders too much weight to handle, all for my selfish wish to force my two brothers to get along. Maybe I’m hoping for the impossible and I’m about to do more harm than good.

VIRGIL: Well, from the moment we welcomed Remus into the team, we all knew we had to tackle Roland and Remus’ relationship one day or another.

ROMAN: Yes, you’re right, but still… I don’t know how this week is gonna end. I’m imagining all the worst-case scenarios and it’s driving me mad.

VIRGIL: [understanding smirk] Welcome to my world, Roman.

ROMAN: And you have to deal with this all the time? Gosh, Virgil, I don’t know how you can handle this.

VIRGIL: When worrying is all that you’ve known in your life, you become used to it. For me it’s my natural state of living at this point. Except when I get too heightened or Thomas goes into a panic attack. In those times, not even I could endure the pressure and I break down, just like anybody else in those scenarios. But my job is to try and maintaining the balance of tension between vigilance and anxiety, and I must try to be strong to maintain it as much as possible.

ROMAN: Well, kudos, my love. I admire your strength so much.

[Roman kisses Virgil on the cheek. Virgil gives him a heartwarming smile]

VIRGIL: You’re welcome. And I wouldn’t worry too much in advance in this case. I think Remus looks pretty capable of dealing with this, and if he loves you, which I think he does, he’ll do everything he can to make this work.

ROMAN: I know he will… But on the other hand, I’m also worrying about Roland. This is a huge struggling situation for him and I essentially pushed him into it against his will. Maybe he wasn’t ready for this ordeal.

VIRGIL: He loves you too, so he’ll do his best too. Let’s hope for the best.

ROMAN: Let’s hope so, indeed.

[someone knocks at the door]

ROMAN: Come in!

[a servant opens the door]

SERVANT: Your highness, the regent prince asks to meet you, alone.

ROMAN: My brother? Okay, I’m coming. Will you be all right, Virge?

VIRGIL: Yes, I’ll be fine. After I have retouched my eyeshadow, I’ll go hang out with Thomas and the others. Look for me in their room if you don’t find me here when you return.

ROMAN: Okay, see ya later, Virge.

[Roman gets out of the room and follows the servant to Roland’s desk room]

SERVANT: [announcing him at the door] Your Royal Highness, Prince Roman!

ROLAND: Hi, Roman, come in.

[Roman enters the room, then the servant leaves and closes the door behind him]

ROMAN: Is everything okay, Roland?

ROLAND: Yes… yes, it’s fine, it’s fine.

ROMAN: [sitting down next to Roland] Are you sure? Ira told me about the teapot.

ROLAND: Oh, he shouldn’t have. I didn’t want you to worry about me.

ROMAN: As if not knowing it would have spared me the concern. I’ve been worrying about you for days already.

ROLAND: I’m so sorry, Roman.

ROMAN: Don’t be, I’m your big brother, it’s my job to worry about my little brother. Who else would, otherwise?

ROLAND: That was when we were kids, Roman. Now we’re both adults, we’re supposed to be able to take care of ourselves without making others worry about us.

ROMAN: If only that was true. But it isn’t. It’s only natural that we worry about the people we love and their well-being. That’s part of being family. And we’re family, right?

ROLAND: A very atypical family, though. Sometimes I’m still confused about if I should call you brother or father because you created me in this world as your brother.

ROMAN: As you said when you learned the truth, I’m family either way, so does it really matter?

ROLAND: No, I guess not.

ROMAN: Okay, you asked me to come, and here I am, so what is it?

ROLAND: Yes, I was thinking that this afternoon, after lunch, we could all go to the beach in front of the castle, to spend the rest of the first day having some fun. I’ll be free then to join you. If you want, of course, we can do whatever you want if you had something else in mind.

ROMAN: Sounds like a great plan, Roland. I’m sure the others will agree too when I tell them.

ROLAND: Then it is settled. Now, since you’re here, perhaps we could spend… five boring minutes together as I bring you up to date about the principality. I need to know if you agree with the choices I made, you’re the real Royal Prince after all and it’s your duty too.

ROMAN: [sighs with a smirk] Okay, brother. Bore me.

[Roman and Roland start talking about the principality’s administration while looking at some documents on the desk. Time goes by and it’s the afternoon. The gang is at the beach. Ira and Janus are lying on some deck chairs, under an umbrella, wearing a bath suit and sunglasses. The others are all in the water, Remus splashing at Roman who complains about it, Patton trying not to go too far from the shore as he can’t see anything without glasses. Logan is next to him trying to protect him, even though he’s as blind as him without his own glasses. The rest just enjoy the water on their own. Janus and Ira look at the others]

IRA: The water looks fine. Don’t you want to join them, Jan? Oh, it’s still weird to me to call you Jan instead of Dee. I can call you Jan, right?

JANUS: Of course you can, Ira. And nah, I’m not in the mood for swimming. Maybe because I still remember my days as a real snake, when I was a cold-blooded creature and I preferred sunbaths better than water baths. What about you? You don’t want to join them? Don’t feel obligated to stay with me just to give me company. I could take the time to take a little nap while you have fun.

IRA: I’m much better here, having a tranquil rest. A palace can be hard work sometimes, you know?

JANUS: You know what? I’m glad you bring this up now that we’re alone, because I’m often wondering something.

IRA: What is it?

JANUS: Is it okay for you to be a servant of Roland in exchange of living here? Working all day, doing the castle’s chores till you get exhausted… I thought you came here as his personal protector, not as his butler, and I purposely used that word instead of “slave” so as not to talk bad about Roland. I don’t know… you once were a full Side of your own and it hurts me to see you down to this, if you know what I mean.

IRA: I understand your concern and I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s not what you think. When I first came here, Roland treated me with so much reverence, as if I was almost… like a god of some kind. He didn’t let me do anything in the castle and treated me as if I was the true owner of this principality. I had my own servants to do everything for me and… it got a little stressing, not to mention that I got really bored after days went by without doing anything. So, it was me who suggested him to let me do the chores in the castle. At first he refused, but when I talked about how I was feeling, he acquiesced. I told him from the first minute that I wanted him to tell me what needed to be done as soon as it needed to be done, so I could stay busy, and so it has been up until today. So don’t worry, Janus. I’m totally fine and I’m doing this on my own free will.

JANUS: Okay, if you say so. You know I didn’t mean to be rude to Roland, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.

IRA: I know. You’ve always looked after me ever since the Dark Realm days, and I’ll always thank you for your friendship.

JANUS: My pleasure.

[Ira smiles at Janus, then looks at the sea. After a few seconds, his smile fades away and is replaced by a face of fear]

JANUS: Is there… something wrong, Ira?

IRA: Where is Roland? I can’t see him anywhere.

[Janus looks for Roland too]

JANUS: You’re right… He’s gone!

[Janus and Roland get up and run to the sea, next to Patton and Logan who are the ones closer to them]

IRA: Guys! Roland is missing! Where is Roland!?

PATTON: I… I don’t know, kiddos, I can’t see without my glasses.

JANUS: [carrying both glasses and giving them to Logan and Patton] Here guys, put them on.

[Logan and Patton put their glasses on]

LOGAN: You’re right, Roland is missing… And Remus too, I can’t see him anywhere either.

IRA: What is going on here? [yelling, calling the others] Guys! Guys, Roland and Remus are missing! Guys!

[the others hear them and start looking in all directions, trying to find them. Roman swims next to the beach]

ROMAN: I hope nothing happened to them.

[suddenly, Remus rises up from under the water]

IRA: Look, there is Remus, he was diving into the sea. But where is Roland!?

[Remus swims calmly without any concern at all]

IRA: Why is Remus so calm!? Did he have anything to do with this? This is suspicious as heck!

ROMAN: Remus! Remus, come here at once!

REMUS: What? I can’t hear you!

ROMAN: [yelling as loud as his lungs allow him] I SAID COME HERE, RIGHT NOW!

REMUS: Okay!

[Remus swims next to the others]

REMUS: What’s the matter?

IRA: You tell us! Where is Roland?

REMUS: What? Roland? What do I know?

ROMAN: Remus, if you know anything about where he is, tell us now, before it’s too late!

REMUS: I’m telling you I don’t know where the f… [bleep] Roland is!

IRA: Yeah, Roland and you disappear at the same time, then you emerge out of the water and swim as if it had nothing to do with you while we’re all worried about him. And you expect us to believe you don’t know anything!

REMUS: Listen, you damn ladybug, I’m telling you I know nothing about this! I was diving calmly, watching some octopuses underwater, and when I came out I didn’t know that your little prince was missing! Janus, say something!

[Janus hesitates. Remus shows a face of huge hurt]

REMUS: You don’t believe me either? I thought you could distinguish between lies and truths! I’m saying the truth right now, please believe me!

JANUS: [after looking at Remus’ face for a couple of seconds] He’s saying the truth. He’s had nothing to do with Roland’s disappearance.

IRA: Sorry, Janus, but you are too attached to Remus. Forgive me if I take your judgment with a pinch of salt. Not saying that you’re lying on purpose, but maybe your love for him could be fooling you.

IAN: Look! He’s there, behind that rock! He’s floating on the water!

IRA: [horrified] Oh, no!

ROMAN: [also horrified] Remus, what have you done?

REMUS: [in despair] I did nothing! I swear! You have to believe me!

[Roman swims to the place Ian pointed at, until he reaches Roland. He’s unconscious, floating on the water]

ROMAN: [horrified] Oh, my goodness gracious, Roland! No!

[when he touches Roland, he flinches and opens his eyes]

ROLAND: [scared] What!? What’s going on!?

[Roland sinks into the water, getting out as quickly as he can, then looks at Roman and takes some ear plugs out of his ears]

ROMAN: Roland, you’re alive! Thank goodness, you scared the sh** [bleep] out of me!

ROLAND: I’m… sorry, Roman, I was floating on the water, with my ear plugs so that water didn’t enter my ears. I guess I got so relaxed that I fell asleep for a moment. I’m sorry I scared you.

ROMAN: Then that means… [looking at Remus, who watches the scene from afar] Oh, Remus!

[Roman returns as fast as he can to where Remus and the others are. Roland follows him from behind]

ROMAN: Remus, I’m so sorry!

REMUS: [serious face] How could you honestly believe I could do that to you, even for a second?

IRA: Well, it wouldn’t have been, like, the first time you had tried to do that…

REMUS: [yelling in a sudden outburst of wrath] I’m talking to my brother, not to you! I don’t give a f… [bleep] sh… [bleep] about what you think about me, you fake doodle! But I do care about Roman’s opinion and…

[tears burst out of his eyes. Remus turns around, then gets out of the water and approaches the deck chairs, not facing the others, who follow him a few steps behind]

ROMAN: I have no excuse. I can only tell you that I’m sorry and that I should have trusted you from the start.

REMUS: Yes, you should have. But you didn’t. And it seems no matter what I do to be better, you’ll never fully trust me, right?

[Remus makes a gesture and he’s dressed with his usual outfit]

REMUS: I’m not in the mood for more… beaching around. I’m going to my room, I want to be alone.

JANUS: Remus, I…

REMUS: I said alone, Janus. I don’t want you to follow me either.

JANUS: Okay… As you wish, Remus.

[Remus walks two steps, then, with a broken voice, he looks at Janus, with his eyes wet and red, and speaks]

REMUS: What hurts me the most is that… even you, Janus, had doubts about me… Even you, my love, thought me capable of…

[before Janus can answer, Remus starts running towards the castle. They can’t see his face, but they all notice clearly that he’s crying]

[to be continued, guys, gals and non binary pals]

[end card]

ROLAND: I’m sorry I have been the cause of this terrible misunderstanding.

IRA: No, it’s my fault, I didn’t give Remus a chance.

ROMAN: It’s not your fault only, Ira. You were driven by concern over Roland’s life, as much as me, and we were all unfair to Remus.

IRA: But still, what I said is true, he did try to do harm to Roland once, so to claim that he’s not capable of doing such thing is false. I was wrong and I’m really sorry, but even so, I had a high chance of being right. You all know it.

LOGAN: But you’re judging an old version of Remus, a Remus that is long gone. The Remus of today may be a lunatic, but he’s not a murderer. Humans evolve all the time and we, Sides, as we’re part of a human, do too. Do I need to remind you of your first entrance in the living room, Ira, and how much you changed afterwards?

IRA: I… [sighs] I guess you’re right.

THOMAS: Well, getting to know who is right or wrong or who to blame is not important. The important thing right now is to make sure that Remus is okay and apologize to him.

JANUS: I’ll go see him.

ROMAN: But he said he wanted to be alone.

JANUS: I’m the one who has the most to apologize for. I’m his fiancee. How am I supposed to start a marriage if I fail in the most basic idea of marriage, which is trust. I need to talk to him, in the name of all of you but also and mostly in the name of me, because I failed him.

ROLAND: Again, I’m so sorry I’ve been the cause of so much pain for all of you. I didn’t mean…

JANUS: It’s not your fault at all, Roland. Okay, I’ll go see him. I hope at least he lets me in the room.

[Janus heads to the castle while the others look at him with faces of remorse]

PATTON: Who would have thought this day that seemed to be so happy would end so badly. I hope Remus and Janus can amend things.

ROMAN: And I hope he can forgive us too…

[mothmansfriend]

when i’m sad oh god i’m sad (pt. 2)

link to pt. 1

follows a very similar timeline to @tearxofink‘s fic Rules for a Functioning Alcoholic but will prob have differences (such as no established relationships) and takes place in @illogicallyinclined‘s hockey au after the mention of Remus possibly having undiagnosed bipolar disorder

update: i think its important to acknowledge roughly where this takes place in the big timeline bc D doesn’t really drink past freshman yr in this AU because of self preservation and trauma, alcoholism was more an issue before then in high school (when remus and d were Rowdy Boys) but the stress of Logan’s concussion lead to some heavy drinking that was caught quickly by Virgil because Remus Cannot Keep Secrets.

summary: Remus has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder and is dealing with a severe depressive episode in the aftermath of realizing that binge drinking with D wasn’t just his own search to Feel Something, but was also D’s relapse into alcoholism. Remus comes to the realization of lost time during manic episodes and refuses help.

tw: graphic descriptions of a depressive episode, self harm (burning),  suicidal thoughts, and suicidal intent (but not attempt). unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse, mentioned alcoholism, undiagnosed mental illness, miscommunications on shared trauma, ask to tag if i missed any.

There are a number of places that are simply uncomfortable to sleep. Barely sitting up and using the chairs provided by the previous tenants as a pillow is certainly one of them. It takes Remus a moment to identify what woke him up as there's another round of knocking on his door and he doesn’t want to respond. It’s bright out,the sun is blocked from his figure by the curtains covering most of the windows. He hears Roman’s muffled voice as the locked doorknob jiggles, “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is”.

Their footsteps move away and Virgil speaks, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that-” his voice fades as they enter the kitchen.

Remus can barely pick himself off the floor before his phone lit up with a notification.

the shittier twin: You good? LMK when you’re coming home, Virgil is lowkey freaking out  (received: 10:14)

He stares at the words willing his brain to focus as he decides, maybe he should reply.

He sends a photo of a fat pigeon he took outside a club him and D got kicked out of a few weeks ago. It would be clear that the picture was taken at a different time, but does get message of ‘I’m alive’ across. Which is about as much as Remus is willing to communicate to people that haven’t even tried to contact him before now. How sad is it that his twin brother didn’t even check on him until six days later. Or maybe he should be asking if it’s sad that after four days Roman still hasn’t noticed that he’s home, or that it took Roman six to even ask? Remus spends all this time in the theatre and in the arts studio, and still Roman was the only one to ask, though at the request of someone who wants to get mad at him. He considers if maybe that he is a bad person, and that isn’t something he normally would care about, but if he weren’t then people might have checked on him. He usually hangs out with D almost everyday and he swears he’s never been gone more than maybe four days. But no one else seems concerned at all.

He considers reasons why this might be and gets stuck on Roman’s comment that he hasn’t been gone that long, and the implications then of him being gone longer. Things that don’t really make sense, but he knows losing your train of thought and getting distracted is a part of ADHD, but maybe, this is much more concerning. How does he know that he’s only ever been gone so long, maybe those lapses are more than a few minutes of zoning out. Which leads to, does Remus know who he is during these lapses? The contrast between the two prince twins have always been clear in their behaviour, Roman who follows every word their parents whisper in his ear. The boy grew up to be an actor after years of who takes any command without thought at that chance to be on top, and revelled in praise. It’s the cowards way of survival, are you really living if you’re not you? He knows Roman wasn’t quite loving that, but he still complied. Remus has always known exactly who he is and who he always will be. But the uncertainty of who he is in those spaces that seem to be taking up more and more space, maybe he;s been following someones script too?

He’s constantly changing his mind and forgetting where he is, are his feelings his? If everything the thought he knew about himself is slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass than how does he make it stop?

—

Virgil slides into the recently empty chair next to Roman the second Patton gets up to ask the waitress for another round of coffee, he steals one of Roman’s sausages and speaks, “By the way, I’m catching a ride to your place with you and D”.

Roman squawks at the sausage thief, “Why? I already told you Remus isn’t home!”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know, just humour me. I went to talk to Joan before we left and Thomas said Remus texted to apologize for missing practice, he’s never done that before! I just wanna come check, you can make fun of me later or whatever.”

“Fine, whatever, I know you’d just show up anyway. I don’t think him texting Thomas means anything though, even if it is weird.”

“Well we can agree to disagree then.”

—

The entry to the apartment the Prince twins share with D was just as full of banter as expected. D and Roman irritating Virgil without effort but Virgil matching that with his own comebacks and determination to check on Remus. “Alright, Emo Knightmare, let’s go knock on his cave door so I can know you again, that he isn’t home” Roman drops his bag next to the couch and heads down the shared hallway of D, Remus, and the storage closet. D walks past him with comments of a essay due tomorrow and disappears. Roman walks down and knocks on the door sternly once maintaining eye contact with Virgil knowing there will not be a response. Virgil follows him and he knocks again after a moment and jiggles the knocked door handle. “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is.” Roman turns and leads them back out into the living room towards the kitchen.

Virgil pauses for a moment watching the door before he follows, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that he actually texted to apologize for not showing up today. You know when Remus is out he never remembers to charge his phone, it just seems weird.”

Roman exhales and wordlessly pulls out his phone shooting off a text to his twin before pulling some leftovers out of the fridge to offer to Virgil despite the fact they had eaten not long ago. Virgil accepts and he puts it on two plates for the microwave. Roman’s phone vibrates on the counter with a text. The emo leans over to read and snorts, “Wait, is Remus’s name actually ‘the shittier twin’ in your phone? He just send a picture of  what appears to be an obese pigeon, that doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Roman shrugs, “Of course it is, and yeah that sounds about right, it’s like he’s trying to communicate through hieroglyphics, he’s just telling us he’s fine.”

Virgil’s dark eyes examine Roman’s face for any reflection that he’s just trying to make him stop bothering him with his concern, but when he sees nothing he drops his defensiveness, “Yeah, okay, he’s your brother, he’s kind of like a cat I guess. He always comes home right?”

The microwave beeps and Roman slides the extra plate in front of Virgil, “Exactly, he’s just like this, I’ll text you when he comes back. You don’t need to worry about it, Virge.”

Virgil shoots him a small smile before taking his plate to the couch closely followed by the oldest Prince twin as they settle down with Netflix until they need to leave for their respective classes.

—

Roman blearily wipes his eyes as he wakes up in his dark room and rolls over to check the time. 2:34am wake up and bathroom break time. He briefly considers just rolling over and waiting four or five hours until he needs to get up for class, but decides there’s just a higher chance of getting a restless sleep the rest of the night. The hockey captain rolls out of bed standing in his room shirtless and only wearing a random pair of soft sleep pants and stumbles out of his room, crossing the living room and entry way he’s about to try the handle of the dark bathroom door when it opens to reveal a tall dark figure.

Roman jumps back with an admittedly embarrassing squawk before recognizing the dark figure to be a freshly showered, exhausted, and almost weak looking Remus. The two stood in silence for a moment, Remus not even reacting to the sight of his brother. Roman awkwardly laughed for a moment, “Holy shit, Remus! I didn't even realize you were home.”

Remus stares emptily, moving to walk away without replying, Roman stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “Are you like, uh, okay? You kind of look like shit”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say as suddenly Remus’s face hardens into a snarl, “Oh fuck you, Roman.” His voice cracks halfway through but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the venom in his voice, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Christ! If you’re going to be an asshole then nevermind, I just wanted to check up on you. You know, like a concerned brother just might do?” Roman fires back suddenly feeling defensive. The tone of voice Remus uses almost sounds scared to him but he doesn’t have the energy to pry at Remus in the hallway less than 6 feet from D’s door at 2:30am.

“You don’t get to play any kind of concerned brother role right now! You don’t just get to decide to be concerned one day, it’s all about appearances with you, I dont fuck with that!” Remus’s voice raises as he gets more and more riled up, his voice sounds like shit as if he hasn’t used it in days, “Tell me when you think I got home, Princey, huh? You don't know shit about me and it’s time you stopped asking like you do.” He steps towards Roman edging back down the hallway to the living room.

“Why am I supposed to know when you got home?” Roman fires back, “You’re an adult! You’ve taken care of yourself fine for years, I’m not your parent I don’t need to know where you are twenty-four-fucking-seven!”

Vaguely, Roman hears D’s bedroom door open and feels brief regret that was smashed by Remus shoving him backwards. “You don’t need to know! But, did you ever think to wonder? Did you ever once care enough to ask? No! I don’t remember ever being gone more than three or four days.”

Roman recoils for a second in confusion but counters standing his ground, “What does that fucking mean? You own a calendar, a phone, you should know your average in the last year has been like five to seven days, you can’t blame me that you decide to go on a bender every 6 months or less. Can’t you ever grow up?”

“It means I don’t know where I was for two to four of those days at least! You self absorbed prick! Fuck!” Remus crumples for a second, his facial expression looks so, lost. He violently grabs and tugs on his still damp hair. He stands back up face guarded once again. “I know I never go out without a plan, I have paid some fucking terrible prices for that that you never need to know about. But, you’re telling me that I was out there and I don’t remember it? And no one thought to mention anything to me? And you’re asking if I’m ‘okay’? Fuck that, fuck you. I’m going back to my room, and ideally I’ll fucking rot and die before I have to look at you again,” Remus seethes before turning and slamming his door without waiting for a response.

Roman sags at his brothers exiting remarks, making tentative eye contact with D who waits in the dark hallway. “I don’t know what to do,” Roman says quietly.

D moves towards him moving them to the couch offering a comforting touch to the remaining twin, “Roman, I cannot tell you that I have any idea about what just happened. But, it seems like he just wants you to be there for him, in his own weird displays of affection he does love you and I think maybe he’s scared sometimes that you don’t care for him, and he lashes out. But right now, you need to go back to sleep so you can go to your boring nine am lecture, and I’ll try to spend time with him tomorrow. Sound good?”

Roman examines D, letting himself feel vulnerable for a moment but trusts that D knows what to do. He’s known the twins since high school, if anyone knew it would be him. “Thank you, D” Roman whispers, leaning into the little affection for a moment before he stands up and moves them back down the hallway.

Roman goes to the bathroom as originally planned but thinks about the things his younger brother had said. How much is he missing? What does it mean for Remus to simply not remember days at a time? Is it because of drinking too much or something else?

As Roman tucks himself back into bed, preparing himself for the restless sleep he had been trying to avoid. His mind wanders, and he can’t help but think that maybe he should be questioning blood stains on Remus’s carpet a little more.

[monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my]

What We Lost and What We Have

Chapter 8:   Selfies, subterfuge and the koolaid man

In which Cas needs a shower, Jack plays mind games with himself mostly, and the brothers question their choices.

TW’s for this chapter: Self-blame?

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AU somewhat inspired by Episode 2x20 - What Is and What Should Never Be, and the season 14 storyline concerning Jack’s illness.

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AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

Complete Tumblr Chapter List

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April 23, 2017

-

“You wanna run that by me again?” Dean's voice was muffled over the phone, like he was talking at it on speaker from a few feet away.

The last few hours after Jack woke up had been a whirlwind.

It had taken two of those hours for Castiel to remember he promised to call Dean’s younger brother Sam and another hour yet for him to steel himself to call Dean.

Jack’s ever-present cough was still there, (his lungs showing their displeasure at being filled with something besides air) but besides that…

He seemed... okay.

Castiel held the word shakily at the back of his throat not letting himself even think it too loudly. He wouldn’t even say it except in the form of a question.

The boy still seemed fairly exhausted by the entire ordeal but there wasn’t the same scary distant look in his eyes that felt like he was slipping somewhere far away.

And wonders of all wonders he’d actually eaten most of the sandwich the nurse brought him at mealtime. Castiel could just see Jack picking at the last of the crust when he glanced over his shoulder.

“The doctor is planning to keep Jack at Lawrence Memorial for a while longer, I just thought you should know…”

“No no, the other bit… The part where you said, ‘Jack’s doing alright so they’re waiting to transfer him,’ what does that mean?”

Castiel bit back his defensive instinct.

-

“Do you even care?”

-

“It means he’s feeling a little better today, so Doctor Hannah felt safe waiting to transfer him.”

Dean made a nonplussed noise on the other end of the line, “I mean, it’s just…” he fell quiet for a moment, “last night you made it sound like he was dying or something…”

Castiel opened his mouth to protest and then closed it face heated, he’d been panicked but he hadn’t been that extreme, “Well I’m sorry for disrupting your sleep Dean,” Castiel said a little more terse than he intended.

“Seriously?” Dean sounded annoyed.

-

Perhaps that was a little too rude.

-

Castiel quickly continued before Dean could really get pissed. “Look… I really don’t know anything yet other than Jack hasn’t gotten any worse, and he’s eating today.”

“...And that’s good right?” Dean said slowly.

-

‘Possibly...’

‘Probably…”

-

“They’ll know more when more tests get back this afternoon…” Castiel said cagily.

Dean grunted, “Makes sense, did you need something else? I mean… what did you call to see…”

“I just thought you should know,” Castiel said quickly.

Dean gave a soft huff of a laugh, “yeah no that’s uh… that’s good…” he was quiet for a moment voice sounding a little unsure when he spoke again, “Just… let me know if the kid’s okay… I guess?”

Castiel hesitated trying to sort through his own haze of emotions. The wall of defensiveness and frustration that he had built up starting to crack. Some small unfair part of him a little disappointed not to have a righteous external threat to be irritated with and hide his anxiety (which had been mounting for days) behind.

He couldn’t read Dean, the man seemed to yoyo between aloof stranger, antagonistic asshole and concerned family member at least three times in any given conversation and Castiel was too tired to sort through his own thoughts much less Dean’s.

“Cas?” Jack’s voice was a welcome distraction away from the increasingly awkward conversation.

“I have to go now Dean…” Castiel said quickly.

“What?”

“I will let you know how things go, sorry for bothering you…” he quickly hung up.

Jack tilted his head watching sheepishly as his uncle swiftly tucked away his phone in his trench coat pocket.

“Y-you didn’t have to hang up…” Jack coughed into the back of his hand.

“We were done talking,” Castiel said simply quickly waving the conversation away and turning his attention back to Jack, “What do you need?”

Jack blinked at him for a moment looking unconvinced before asking slowly, “I just… Is there anymore water?”

'water, yes, he could get water…

Castiel fumbled to pick up the small hospital pitcher from the dresser beside Jack's bed and found it empty, "I'll just… find an orderly…"

Castiel smiled shakily at Jack and got a small concerned smile back.

"Was Dean being an as-” Jack trailed off the second “s” catching himself before swearing in front of his uncle, “-butt again? Do you want to tell me about it ?"

Castiel's mouth twitched a little into a more honest smile, it was the same phrase he'd repeated a hundred times, whenever Jack got upset.

-

'you should be asking him that… '

-

"I'm alright…" Castiel patted Jack’s hand a little awkwardly. "You just focus on feeling better…"

-

' whatever that meant… '

-

Castiel tapped the top of the water pitcher and headed for the door before the anxiety of the thought could melt the smile off his face.

"I am Cas…" Jack piped up, giving the most reassuring smile he could with his eyebrows still furrowed in concern.

"I am feeling much better than yesterday…"

The doctors were weaning Jack off the pain and nausea drugs as his symptoms seemed to mysteriously fade. But for every piece of good news Cas' uneasiness didn't waver. Perhaps it was his just his own paranoia but…

-

'they still didn't know what had happened… '

-

Castiel gave the best smile he could muster on short notice, “I know Jack… and I’m glad I just… want you to take things slow.”

Every time he looked at Jack’s face his eyes were drawn to the purple bruise decorating it from cheek to temple.

-

‘He saw Jack convulsing on the floor…’

-

Castiel blinked away the image, muttered, “I...I’ll be right back...water…” and ducked quickly out of the room.

He breathed a shaky sigh still so in his head he almost ran into the wall that was Sam Winchester.

Castiel jumped back glad the water picture was empty or else he would have dumped half of it over himself and the younger Winchester.

“Sorry,” Sam gave an awkward smile, taking in Cas’s shaken demeanor, “is… everything okay?” Sam paused and said carefully, “Is Jack okay?”

Castiel took a moment to answer running a hand over his face, “No… he’s… Jack’s fine… I’m fine… we’re all…”  Cas sighed, “fine…”

“Do you… need a moment? To take a break… grab some food?” Sam said hesitantly like he was trying to calm a small feral animal.

-

‘Food… it sounded good…”

-

Castiel had been living off vending machine coffee and little packets of peanut butter crackers for the last twenty-four hours…

“I just… I promised to bring Jack some more water so…”

Sam nodded looking pensive.

Castiel knew by now the man meant well but his track record for being present in times of trouble wasn’t exactly stellar, and the idea of continuing to rely on Sam, of owing him and letting him become a familiar presence in their life felt like taking advantage of temporary guilt.

-

‘And he didn’t want Jack to trust this man again only to be let down...again…’

-

“I could bring him the water and sit with him for a bit if you want?” Sam said carefully.

Castiel held the pitcher a little closer to his chest incredulous, but was hesitant to directly reject the offer.

“Look um... “ Sam dug around in his jeans pocket for his wallet and for one wild affronted moment Castiel thought he was planning on offering him money.

“What are you…?”

Sam held up his hands placatingly and revealed what he’d actually been searching for, a hotel keycard.

“Look… I heard you had to check out of your old hotel room yesterday and you’ve been here with Jack for the last two days… If you wanted to…I don’t know shower, change clothes…” Sam said carefully.

Castiel fell silent, the mild burn of shame rising in his face, he knew he probably looked like a mess with his rumpled clothes and slightly wild hair.

-

‘He’d promised himself a long time ago that he wasn’t ever going to ask the Winchester’s for help, that he was never going to seek out the company of people who for years couldn’t be bothered to so much as call. ’

-

“Samuel… I can’t possibly…”

Sam cut in, “Really it wouldn’t… it’s not any problem I brought my own stuff so the bathroom is still stocked with soap and those little shampoos and you said… you said Jack’s doing okay right now, maybe it’s a good time to…” Sam sighed fidgeting with the card in his hands and finally just holding it out looking just as unsure as Castiel.

Castiel didn’t want to leave Jack behind, he felt like if he looked away for a second the other shoe would drop and he would regret it. He also knew how ridiculous that was, knew he couldn’t just live out of Jack’s hospital room until some yet unknown release date.

-

‘His scalp was starting to itch. ’

-

And the look on Sam’s face… Owing the man, was the last thing he wanted, but he knew that look…

Sam looked desperate. Desperate to do something, to help in some way. Castiel didn’t know how much of that was out of real concern for Jack and how much of it was guilt.

-

‘Somehow he doubted even Sam himself could answer that question.’  

-

But he knew how it felt to not be able to do anything, part of him argued he’d be doing Sam the favor by giving him something helpful to do.

Jack said he felt okay, tried to reassure his uncle that things would be okay. Part of Cas was afraid that all his fear and anxious mollycoddling was what was hurting Jack the most in this moment...

-

‘Even without the probable pneumonia, Jack didn’t have a moment to breathe without worrying about or feeding off of his uncle’s emotions.’

-

Castiel let out a soft resigned sigh.

“Thank you… Sam.”

-

‘Please don’t hurt Jack again…’

-

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Cas stopped back by Jack’s room to drop off the promised water and let him know about a hundred times that he’d try to be back within the hour. He made Sam promise to call if anything went wrong.

And he did mean anything , by the end of his speech Jack felt like if he looked at Sam the wrong way Castiel would come running.

But eventually Castiel did leave, and Jack and Sam were left to sit awkwardly in the hospital room Jack slowly sipping at his water in a foam cup and eyeing Sam sheepishly.

Jack felt his face burn remembering practically breaking into tears when Castiel left the day before.

He felt… foolish.

When Jack woke up this… early afternoon, he'd still been bone-tired and congested in his chest like he had a bad cold. But unlike the day before his head was clear and didn't hurt and the horrible pain that had taken over his core was back to being dull and far away.

And he'd been hungry. He hadn't had an appetite for days...

Even the doctor had looked a little confused when he'd asked sheepishly if it was too late for breakfast.

He'd been relieved at first but now? Now he was just… embarrassed.

Had he overreacted the day before? Had all his crying and fear misled the doctors and Cas?

No that couldn't be it, he remembered the stabbing pain in his stomach remembered doctor Hannah waking him up in the middle of the night for more tests the terrifying grimness with which she delivered her news.

-

‘The fear in his uncle's eyes.’

-

But everything he felt the day before was blurred and hazy, like a bad nightmare. Like a hit and run where the only marks left behind were the bruises on his face and the worry lines on his uncle's.

'And the bone… no soul-deep tiredness…'

Jack didn’t want to think about it.

He wanted to distance himself as far as possible from the tears and terrifying feeling of the night before…

-

"You don't know what's wrong with me?"

-

Jack swallowed the lump in his throat.

-

‘Maybe it’s over now…’

-

He was nearly grown, he wasn't going to fall apart in front of Sam again. If he was going to be fine there was no reason for him to be childish, internally begging for his uncle and outwardly crying, not again.

He didn’t want Sam to think about him that way, like a little kid he felt sorry for.

-

‘In the end no one really wanted kids around.’

-

He had practically clung to Sam the day before when the doctor came for the LP.

It was so embarrassing just thinking about it made Jack want to cry again so he blinked hard and tried to find a course of action that wasn’t making a fool of himself.

Sitting in a hospital got boring very quickly when you weren’t in a drug and pain haze.

Jack cleared his throat sitting up as straight as he could in bed, “H-hey Sam?”

“Hmm?” Sam looked up pensive from his ever-present work laptop, "Do you need something? More water?"

Jack felt his determination to act as adult as possible waver as soon as the older man's attention was directed at him. He mouthed wordlessly for a moment before gathering the nerve to continue.

"No… thank you," he said sheepishly, "it's uh… I was just wondering if I could have my phone back?"

Sam blinked like a deer in the headlights, "Your...phone?"

Jack quickly cut in, "Yeah, I think it's still in one of Cas's jacket's pockets?"

-

'Cas had left the coat hanging over the back of his chair to stand vigil while he was gone. '

-

Sam glanced between the coat and Jack unsure.

"Aren't you grounded?"

Jack opened his mouth to speak paused to cough then cleared his throat and did his best to sound authoritative.

"I was, but only until Monday… this Monday… which it now is, so…"

Jack conveniently left out the fact he knew he'd probably be grounded for the next month for admitting to the whole… weed thing.

Sam still looked unconvinced.

"Please," Jack couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice, "I just… I’ve been here all weekend, and… and…"

-

'I hate it here, I want to go home…'

-

"... I haven't been at school, exams are coming up I… I need to talk to someone about notes and… and homework and stuff?"

Sam began to teeter.

-

'I just want to talk to someone, anyone not here, to know things are okay out there… to know I'll be okay…'

-

"Please S-sam," Jack's voice broke around a fit of coughing that was enough to make his eyes water.

"None of my friends now I'm here,” Jack choked breathily regaining his air, "I… they’re probably worried…"

-

'if they even care…'

-

"I just… want them to know I'm okay…" he finished lamely looking down and picking at the tape of his IV line.

He heard Sam sigh and the slight squeak of one of his chair being pulled across the floor.

"Alright… alright… but if you're ur uncle gets mad at me I'm telling him you tricked me…”

Jack looked up to see Sam had pulled the chair with the jacket within reach and was patting down the pockets for his phone.

He felt a wave of relief when he saw the familiar black and a yellow of his Star Wars phone case.

"Th-thank you…" Jack said quickly bashful taking the phone from Sam, praying it was still charged when he pressed the power button.

Thankfully it was still at seventy-five percent and Jack felt a second wave of relief seeing there were seven missed texts.

-

'way to be needy Jack…'

-

The first one was from Maggie, a simple…

M: 'Hey Jack you weren't at school today, is everything okay?'

The rest… were from Clarke.

C: 'Dude…'

C: 'Hey… d U d E'

C: 'where you @ Maggie is freaking out thinking you got suspended 'cause you weren't in first period.'

C: 'Wait did you get suspended for that BS in Mr. Shirley's class?'

C: 'Dude there was a sub in your dad-uncle's class during third? The hell is going on???'

C: 'did you get expelled? cause I'll fight mr. Shit-ly if you did…'

Jack rolled his eyes but his mouth twitched in a warm smile.

Clark was usually aloof and more interested in goofing off than actually accomplishing… literally anything. But he was always down to clown when someone actually needed something. Especially when it involved “sticking it to the man…”

“Your mom’s the Sheriff doesn’t that make her ‘the man’?” Jack pointed out one day.

“Shut up it’s not that deep…”

Jack bit his lip, not sure where to even start explaining the mess of the last few days.

J: ‘Hey.’ Jack texted sheepishly.

For a long moment, there was no response, then there were about five pings in rapid succession.

C: 'Wtf!'

C: 'Dude we thought you'd died or something?'

C: 'Is your uncle still bogarting your phone or something?'

C: 'did you really get expelled?"

C: 'wherr are you?'

Jack paused again.

J:'Kansas? What’s bogarting?'

Clark seemed even more confused.

C: 'Kansas?'

C: 'Oh right! The thing with your weird cousins or something right? You guys are still there? Did your car uncle’s car break down or something?'

Jack hesitated. There was the question.

J: 'Half brothers not cousins and no…’

J: ‘I'm in the hospital.'

There was a good five minutes where the 'Clark is typing' dots danced across the bottom of the screen.

C: 'Wtf not funny man…’

Jack sighed.

J: ‘I'm being serious.'

More furious typing ensued...

C: 'What the hell? Did you guys get in a wreck or something?’

J: ‘I just said the car’s fine I…’

Jack started typing trying to explain but his injured arm was beginning to ache. He looked around nervously and seeing Sam was sufficiently distracted by his laptop he lifted his phone up and (between deep purple bruise, dark circles and decorative nasal cannula) took probably one of the second or third worst selfies he'd ever taken.

C: 'Dude wtf, your face!'

Jack gingerly flexed the fingers on his injured side.

J: 'I know…'

C: 'You look like you tried to kool-aid man through a brick wall.'

Jack was mildly offended, he didn't think he looked as bad as all that...

J: 'I know…' he typed a little begrudgingly.

C: 'The hell? Did you get in a fight or something? Wait wait did one of your brothers do that?'

Jack quickly refuted that

J: 'No! I just… lost a fight with a sink…'

Clark replied with about a dozen question marks.

C: '????? Tf does that mean? What's with the twenty questions man, your freaking me out. Did something happen? Cause I know you’re like terminally clumsy sometimes but that’s a lot.'

Jack fiddled with his pulse-ox for a moment, considering, he didn't need any more pity, he wished people would realize it just freaked him out when they treated him like a dead man walking.

Then again that really wasn't Clark...

J: 'I passed out on Saturday night, and apparently had a seizure, and I was pretty sick, so… Now I'm stuck here.'

Clark replied almost immediately

C: 'Did you piss yourself?'

There was the Clark Jack knew.

J: '???'

Clark sent a shrugging emoji.

C: ‘What? My mom watches a lot of Grey’s Anatomy. I heard it can happen.’

Jack rolled his eyes,

J: 'I don't remember and I'm definitely not gonna ask.'

Jack blushed a little.

C: 'I got it sorry for asking'

C: 'what was wrong though? You okay?'

Jack felt his chest tighten and coughed, trying to clear the anxiousness built up there.

C: 'Dude? You still, there? You can’t suddenly stop talking after dropping that bombshell you're freaking my out man…'

Jack shook himself.

J: 'They're still doing tests, I've been poked like 16 times, they even stuck a needle in my back because they wanted to make sure I don't have meningitis… Which I don’t btw.'

Clark showed the utmost sympathy.

C: 'RIP Jack.'

C: 'You are okay though right?'

'I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.'

J: 'I'm feeling a lot better today at least...'

It was the truth, but every fiber of his body was calling him a liar, reminding him he knew nothing.

C: 'Any idea when they'll let you out?'

'Not a clue…'

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Hey guys sorry it's taken so long for me to get back it's been a crazy month and I've been having a rough time getting back into my old writing habit.

Also this is weird in-between chapter...

[peggysousfan]

Agent Carter An Au Series

Soooo you know that thing I said about making these chapters shorter... that was a lie lol Its actually the longest by far,3000+ words, but episode 1 is almost done with. It is very angsty, so you have been warned, but there is some fluff thrown in there. Enjoy!!

Peggys' POV:

The next morning I wake the same as yesterday, only a little earlier. I get up and shower, nurse poppet and get ready for work. Colleen is still ill, so shes still asleep. I leave her a note to make sure she eats and to drink some water. As I leave the building I see Daniel. Hes already down stairs, most likely heading to work.

"Daniel!" He stops in his tracks and turns around.

"Hey! You're up early. I thought you weren't meant to be at the office till 9?"

"Yes, I know, but I have to drop the little one off. I can't exactly take her to work with me." He laughs, and it seems like music to my ears... Stop, Peggy. Not now. "Uhm, wh-what are you doing up so early? Do you have to in the office at 8?" He chuckles.

"Uh, no I was just gonna go get a bite to eat."

"Oh."

"Do you want to join me?" I look at Stephanie, and then at him.

"How far is it from here?"

"Just up the road, I was headed to the Automat."

"Oh, well thats not far at all. I can always drop Steph off afterwards." He nods his head and smiles. We makes our way there and Angie comes to our table.

"Hey, English! Whos this you got with ya?" I laugh.

"Good Morning, Angie. This is Daniel a ...friend of mine. And this is Stephanie." As to announce her presence she starts cooing and giggling. I hesitate on friends, but I don't know why. We are friends, but I suppose I may want to be more...No. Peggy, stop. Stop. Right now.

"Awww shes so precious!!!" After a few moments of admiring the baby, she takes our orders. Once she leaves Steph begs for Daniel and starts to fuss for him. Which isn't the first time either. Once when Daniel was at work, she went the whole day crying and only settled down once she was held by him. Shes so attached, its absolutely adorable.

"Aww, come here little anjo." I hand her over to him and I can't help myself but to ask.

"What does that mean, Daniel? anjo?" He looks down at the baby, with an embarrassed smile on his face.

"Sorry I didn't realize I was... It means angel, in Portuguese."

"Oh theres no need to apologize, I was only curious. You say certain words to her or about her and I never understood them." He furrows his brow and I explain. "Well anjo, for starters, and then... linda..?" He laughs and its so contagious.

"Its not what you think. Linda isn't meant as in, thats her name. It means beautiful." I smile brightly at him as Steph starts giggling again and plays with his tie. When our food arrives we eat, but all to soon we finish. "Okay, I better head to the office before they saying anything." I nod my head and embrace him. I reach over and fix his tie. "Oh oops, I forgot she did that."

"Sorry, it was bothering me." We laugh. "I'll see you at work." When I drop off poppet, I head to the office and its busy. Everyone is working on finding Howard, and I'm not entirety sure if I want them to. Selling weapons to enemy states is not something he would do. But its not as if I can talk to him and ask for his side of the story. The whole day is filled with nothing but 'Carter file these reports' or "Carter get the lunch orders ready' or 'hey sweetheart the coffee needs to be refilled'. Ugh, I'm not a bloody secretary, I'm a federal Agent and should be treated as such. Imbeciles. I leave the office and take dinner orders for those staying late, then I return and have sometime to myself. I miss Steph, but I could use some time away from the pig headed men at working and a crying baby.  I read the paper as I sit in my booth. There a picture of Steve, and an article about Howard.

"I met him once at a USO show in Passaic, you could eat him with a spoon." A shiver runs down my spine at that thought. No thank you, Angie, you can keep him.

"Yes, I understand he was quite something." I put down the paper and look at my tea. Quite an arse, more like...

"You alright English?"

"Fine Angie, just work."

"Fellas at the phone company giving you a hard time?" She asks, understand exactly what its like to be put down by her own colleges.

"No more than usual, it just... during the war I had a sense of purpose, responsibility.  But now It feels like I'm connecting the call but I never get the chance to make them. Do you see what I mean?" She looks around and then sits across from me.

"I had an audition today, uptown, Took two trains and  they gave me the hook. I guess I ain't. But we all gotta pay our dues. Even if it takes a while. You've got talent, its only a matter of time before Broadway call."

"I'm afraid I can't carry a tune," I say carrying on our little metaphor.

"Doesn't matter when you got legs like yours." And I laugh. A man starts to complain and be a real wanker, apparently hes a regular customer, and he treats Angie horrible. Ugh, men. Angie leaves and I get up to get a slice of pie. When I return theres a note 'Meet in the Alley in 5 minutes' Odd. I eat my pie and head out the back door. When I do, I'm confronted by a man in a hat, it turns out to be Jarvis; but hes not alone. A car revs its engine and I run, but when I reach a door, its locked. I pull out my gun and shoot the tire; and out pops Howard.

"I know, I should've called. Did ya miss me?" Oh this oaf is going t be the death of me. Jarvis changes the tire, and we ride away to the docks.

Howard explains he had a vault that was broken into, and someone cleaned out all of his deadly inventions. He asks me to spy for him, to catch the person who stole his weapons, and clear his name.

"Howard, you're asking me to become a traitor in order to prove you're not one, you do see the irony?"

"Oh c'mon on, Peg. I know they're not using you right over there." Well hes not wrong. God I hate it when hes right. "You want a mission that matter, this is it. My technology in the hands of the next nut that wants to be the new Red Skull... You have no idea how bad that could be. And right now, you're the only one who can stop that." I look over at him, and already know I'm in over my head, but none the less he is my friend. We get out of the car and walk on the docks. "Some of them have already been sold overseas, thats where I'm going. But the rest are here somewhere, and thats where you come in. Rumor is one of the nasty ones is hitting the black market in the next day or two."

"What is it?"

"Just a piece of paper. My formula for molecular nitromene. This much could level a city block." He takes my hand and balls it in a fist. "And I'm not talking small ones, I'm talking avenues."

"I'm going to regret this aren't I?" He says I will and tells me about Jarvis.

"I owe ya one, pal." We hug and he gets on the boat. "There are only a dozen fences that can handle something this hot, and you just gotta learn which one... and I figured, you'd have no trouble finding a man."

"The trick is finding the right one." He drives away and Jarvis takes me to my daughter. Once I have her, I head home and get some rest.

The Next Day:

Peggy's POV:

I wake up early in the morning, same as yesterday, and do my morning routine. I can't wait until this weekend, Ill keep my promise to Howard, but I won't neglect time with my daughter. Here lately shes been very vocal, and I know its too early, but I fell as if shes trying to say her first word. My only fear is that I may never hear it because I'm working... Balancing motherhood and work is a real pain in the arse. I nurse her her breakfast and lay her down. Since Colleen is home, she has offered to take care of her while I'm at work.

"Try and not work too hard, Peg." I kiss Stephanie's cheek one last time before giving her to Colleen.

"I won't I promise. Now you two get some rest. I'll be back before I'm gone." And with that I leave. When I enter the office, I notice Daniel, and he has a set of photos of Howard, one with him on a boat; oh no. Oh I don't want to do this. I swear if my relationship with Daniel is harmed in anyway because of Howard, I'm going to kill him.

"You know you are expect to go home at night." I say. He looks at me confused and then chuckles.

"I know, but most fugitive cases are solved within the fist 72 hours. And with Stark on the sailing into the sunset, maybe this is where it starts." Hes really invested in this case. I know its only to impress the Chief and make his worth known, but God I wish it wasn't this case. I say what I can to throw Daniel off of Howard's trail. I tell him Howard hates they water, and about the time I knocked him into the Thames because he tried to kiss me on VE Day. Soon I notice Thompson and others rushing to the conference room, they've had a small break on one of Howard's inventions.

"Somethings up."

"Yeah, Thompson's working on his next medal. Got word of a fence trying to sell one of Stark's inventions. Club owner named Spider Ramon."

"Wheres it happening?"

"Need to know only. Kind of gives you a warm feeling, doesn't it." How can I get into that private meeting, and withdraw information without them knowing...? I have an Idea.

"Can I get you a refill?" I quickly grab Daniels mug and rush to get the coffee pot. I try to shake of the electricity running through my hand where we touched. I give him his refill off of a tray.

"Uhmmm.. Thanks?" I give him a small smile and head into the room.

I look over at a file while filling up the cups, when suddenly the chief speaks. I tell him I'm unwell, and that its 'lady's things', Oh its so amusing to see grown men squirm. I take the rest of the day off and go shopping and then head home. I quickly hide the bag with the dress and wig, before Colleen sees. When I enter, I see shes asleep, and so is Steph. Oh my little one. I pick her up and she snuggles against my chest. I kiss the top of her curly brown head and let her rest against me. I read more on Spider Ramon and his club, and after a while, she squirms around, so I let her look at the files. Shes so interested in words, its quite amusing.

Before I know it, night has fallen. I nurse her and lay her back down then I get ready to leave. She didn't eat much, Colleen must have fed her earlier. As I enter the club, its bustling with music, dancers, cocktails, and photographers. Damn. I hide my face as I make my way through. A man come up to me and asks for a dance, but I turn him down. Then I notice a man head up stairs, and a bodyguard below. Thats where I need to go. I persuade the man to let me pass and I put on my Sweet Dream lipstick, just in case. I knock on the door and peek in.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ramon, is this a bad time?" I ask in a perfect American accent.

"We'll only know after its over. Bring the rest of you in here." He says as he sets down a book.

"I hope you don't find me forward."

"Oh I'm not the judgmental type."I enter the room and try to play calm and innocent, admiring small things on the desk after, I close the side doors.

"I know you're in possession of a certain chemical formula." He drops his collective, flirty, act and gets defensive, and tries to send me away. "Its okay, lets make this a game. You seem like you might like games." I sit on the edge of his desk. I tell him I have some fiends who would be interested in buying it, and he goes along with it. I sit on his lap and go along with my story, asking if he has it on him.Instead of answering, he gets flirty and kisses me. Someone opens the door but closes again, apparently not wanting to 'disturb' his boss. Raymond falls back in the chair, knocked out. "Well that was premature."I look around the room and find a safe. When I use my watch to crack it, I see a small glowing orb inside. Oh no... I hurry and call Jarvis.

"Jarvis residence."

"They've weaponized it." I say plainly. I'm sort of in a hurry here, Mr. Jarvis.

"Ms. Carter?"

"Do you know anyone else handling high explosives at this time of night?" I snap.

Basically, if anything touches the core or gives it a small crack, boom. Lovely. I hurry along and place it in my bag.  I have to create a cocktail of sodium hydrogen acetate to deactivate it. If I don't its likely to explode and kill hundreds. Delightful, just delightful. As I get ready to leave, the man comes back and sees his boss passed out.

"What?" He starts to come in and advance at me, but I stop him. I take a stapler form the table and drag him into a closet. Dammit. Thompson and the others are already here. I find the man that had approached me before, and danced to keep the Agents from seeing me. Quickly I leave and head home.

"Peg? Is that you?" Damn I quickly throw off the wig and enter the room.

"Hey. I just changed Steph and she went right back to sleep. Shes does that a lot when you're not around." I smile at her and see how pale she is.

"How are you feeling?"

"A little better, still have a fever though.."

"I'll make you some tea." I walk over to the stove and set the water to boil in the kettle.

"Wow, Peg, you look like a million bucks. Wait... Did you go out, out?"

"In a manner of speaking." I walk closer.

"Wow, I'm really proud of you. I want you to tell me all about it, in the morning." She turns over and goes back to sleep, poor girl. I peek at poppet before changing, grabbing everything I need for the sodium hydrogen acetate, and then head to the bathroom with the bomb. If any harm overcomes to my child, I'll come back from the dead and haunt Howard to the end of his days. I mix up the solution and poor out my perfume, and replace it. As I pull out the core, it hits she shell. Bloody hell. I rush and spray it before it blows. Thankfully its diffused. I put everything under the sink and breath a sigh. I get ready to take a drink of whiskey, that is, until I hear a crash.

"Colleen?" I get up and hurry into the room. "Colleen." I rush over to the bed and pull back the covers, and I stop dead in my tracks. A bullet hole is lodged in the middle of her forehead. No...no no no!! I look around and see Stephanie, and shes starting to cry. Cautious I glance at my surroundings, and I see him, right behind me in the mirror. I quickly turn around and kick him in the groin, but the guns goes off. Thank God it didn't hit the baby, but  it was only by a few feet. Now I'm pissed. I take the gun and hit him right upside the head. Advancing further I grab his arm and upper cut his face. Stephanie is now sobbing her little heart out. For a second I'm distracted, and he takes advantage. He punches me, and I fall back, then pushes me into the wall. He tries to punch me again, but I open the fridge door and he hits it instead. With his forearm on my throat I grab at him, and notice a scar on his throat. Odd...

I elbow him on the side of his head, and take advantage. We twist and turn, and he grabs my arm and holds my head above the stove's flame. Steph is now sobbing, no doubt waking everyone in the building. I gather up my strength and kick him in the chin and force his hand into the flame. He releases an attempted scream while I take an iron skillet and hit him. He falls back and advances with a knife. Luckily I use the skillet and prevent my stomach from being sliced. Poppet continues to scream and he looks at her with a menacing smirk. Oh I don't think so! I hit him again and again and toss him out the window. When I look down, hes gone. Dammit. I rush over to the baby and pick her up to sooth her. "Shhhh... Shhhh... Its alright my love." I bounce her up and down, and then notice Colleen. I starts to cry myself and sit on the bed. This wasn't suppose to happen. I'm so caught up in my own sobbing, and Steph's, that I don't hear the door being knocked on; or it opening.

"Peg!" Daniel rushes over to me and places a hand on my cheek. "Peggy whats wro-" He stops and notices Colleen. "Oh my God..." I look away from her and hold my little girl close to me. This could have been her, and it almost was...At this thought, I only cry harder. He doesn't ask what happened, instead he holds me tight and takes us to his apartment. He takes me to his room and I lie down with Stephanie. I can't believe I almost lost her....I look into Daniels eyes as he stands at the door.  I grab for his hand and he takes it, and hes the last thing I see before I fall asleep.

[maybemitch]

TELL ME THE TRUTH || PART ONE

Description: Everyone experiences three different types of love, no matter the world status.

Warning: set before the events of episode 1-3

Word Count: 2,765 out of 4,152

PART TWO

Fem!Reader x Mitch TWDG

————

BEFORE THE OUTBREAK;

Our first love is said to happen while we are young.

Everything was perfect. Before. Everything was perfect, before. People who could get along, not worrying about anything other than if they got the promotion at work or if they were star of the week at school. Most people could hold a civilised, ones without a gun being waved around or without the word ‘murderer’ or ‘heartless’ being thrown around.

When everything was perfect most people didn’t have to worry about when the last day of the world was. They didn’t have to worry about the fact the dead was going to roam, making survival a risk. They didn’t have to worry about when it was going to be the last time they saw their loved ones.

Within the neighbourhood which Y/N lived in, everyone got along. Whenever people were mowing their, they would acknowledge the other people outside, by raising their hand and giving them a slight wave, then inviting them into a conversation.

Y/N was one of the young child within the neighbourhood, not many kids lived their, considering it was one for the elderly more a less, or those who were who were hardly home or even those which work from home.

Most of the time Y/N felt lonely. Despite having a family which would play with her, ones which would spend time whenever they could. Yet that wasn’t enough for her, she just wanted someone to be around all of the time.

On one weekend, around noon on a Saturday, she shyly asked her mother if she could play outside. Her mother agreed but informed her not to go far as she was only young; Y/N understood.

Y/N found herself sitting on a swing at a park a street over. Her white and red sneakers, kicking of the floor, causing her to move back and fourth. Her hair tickling her face, random strands sticking up.

Y/N sighed, her eyes locked on the tarmacked floor until she heard the park gate creaked open. She lifted her head up, eyes meeting with a boy around her age, smiling sheepishly at her.

She returned the warm smile and went back to staring down at the floor until she heard the swing besides her begin to move. She turned her head, taking a closer look at the boy besides her, while he does the same.

“Hi,” the boy spoke, his hand releasing the metal chain and sticking it out for the girl to shake it, “My names Michael. Yours?”

Y/N took his hand in hers, shaking it, “My names Y/N.”

Michael smiled, beginning to swing on his swing. The pair began to talk to one another, opening up to one another after figuring out they came from the same type of family and background.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Michael and Y/N became fast friends. Going over to each other’s house, playing in with their family, having dinner. Both kids enjoyed the company of one another.

Neither of them would admit it - due to the fact of their young age - but they had grew fond of one another; some could say to the degree they had feelings for one another. Some would say it was young love; it technically was. Yet neither of the pair are brave enough to advance on their feelings.

One day, it came down to Y/N walking down the street to Michael’s house. She held a smile on her face, as her small fist came up to the black wooden door, giving it a loud knock, notifying the people inside the house of her presence.

She stood still for a while, until she heard the keys jingle and a bolt sliding across. She watched as the door opened, Michaels mother standing on the other side, her face a sickening white and layered with sweat. Michael’s mother smiled weakly, before speaking out, “Hello, Darling.”

“I was wondering if Michael could come out and play or if i could play with him in his room?” Y/N asked, a sweet smile on her lips as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

She could see the pain in Michael’s mothers eyes, but she assumed it was due to the fact that she was ill as she had been working over time at the hospital the past few weeks.

Y/N’s frown dropped when she saw the women shake her head from left to right; No. “I’m sorry sweetie, but he’s not feeling too well at the moment. None of us are, we wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

Y/N lowered her gaze to the floor, she began to twist her red and white sneakers, before looking up again as an idea popped into her head, “Well, can i see him and wish he gets well soon? It’s going to be pretty lonely these next few days.”

Michael’s mother looked began her as soon as she heard a bang. Y/N crept to her tiptoes, peering around the women’s side and into the house. Y/N saw a figure in the background, they were leaning over the kitchen counter, coughing up something which she could see specifically.

Michael’s mother sighed, opening the door to its full and urged her up the set of stairs, yet held onto her wrist before she could walk up them, “Don’t stay too long okay? If he starts making unusual sounds, shout me and leave okay?”

“Why?” Y/N questioned.

Michael’s mother squeeze tightly on her wrist, “Just please. Promise me you’ll do what i said. Promise!”

Y/N’s eyes filled with fear, while the mother of her friend filled with desperation. She timidly nodded her head, receiving her arm from the women’s grasp and walking up the stairs.

Once she got to the landing, she stopped. Taking a deep breath, composing herself for whatever she was going to see behind her friends bedroom door. She walked up to the door, her hand timidly knocking on the door, causing a croaky ‘yes’ to come through.

Y/N moved her hand from the wooden and down to the door handle and pull it down, making the door move forwards. Her heart dropped at the sight in front of her; her friend cuddle into their bed, obviously unwell, which was evident with the amount of tissues which scattered the floor and plastic water bottles which were now empty.

Michael looked up at the door, an ill smile on his lips and he gestured for the girl to come forwards. The girl shuffled her feet forwards and sat down at the edge of his bed, Michael holding out his hand for the girl to take it.

“I have to tell you something,” Michael coughed, his eyes watering as he did so, “It’s about my dad.”

“What is it?” Y/N asked as she ran a thumb across the back of Michael’s hand. “You know you can tell me anything”

Michael nodded, his head suddenly going dizzy, “You know how he works at the hospital?” He paused, watching the girl nod her head and also the catch his breath, “Well, he told us it isn’t looking g-good...” his voice fazed out for a spilt second before becoming lund again, “It gotten to the point where they had to close down the wards... and... and people can’t go in or out now.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow, she was confused with what Michael was saying to her and why he was informing her of all of this.

“Can you pass me some water?” Michael asked as he wiggle up in his bed to a sitting position, “It’s at the end of the bed.”

Y/N nodded and grabbed a bottle before handing over to the boy. She watched as he gulped it down, “Michael, why did you tell me this?”

Michael continued to drink, taking a few more gulps before putting the cap back on the bottle, “Because. I just want to let you know.”

She laughed a little - not because she was finding it amusing, because she was confused. She looked the boy in the eye, “Let me know what?”

“Everything going to be different. I don’t know why, but it will be” Michael admitted, reaching out for the girls hand once again, maybe for the final time, “And. When everything does change, just remember that, you’ll always be my best friend. Alright?”

“You’ll always be mine too.”

———

START OF OUTBREAK, AT ERICSON;

Our second love is said to be our hard love.

Michael didn’t last long after his last meeting with Y/N. Thus making Y/N feel guilty about something she had no control over.

Y/N’s mother didn’t know what to do. She tried everything getting to get her daughter to her normal self, yet she couldn’t. Y/N didn’t bother to try. She wanted her best friend back, the only person which understood her.

Because her mother couldn’t get the girl to go back to her normal self, she didn’t something which was her last resort; sent her to Ericson Boarding School for the Troubled Youth.

Y/N didn’t cry when her mom left her. She didn’t even wave to her, she simply just turned her shoulder and went on her way, wondering around the school which would now be her home until she can prove she has changed. Yet, that never happened.

Around the second week of Y/N being at the Boarding School, it was announced that a deadly virus had spread around the US. A virus which at the moment was incurable. Everyone began to panic. The teachers began to evacuate the buildings, them returning to their families which were probably scared. The kids at Ericson was confused with why the teachers were leaving them when they needed to be taught. Needed to be looked after. Yet, obviously, the teachers couldn’t really care, if anything they were only there to get paid.

Y/N began to make friends with the group of kids there. There was around 50 kids at the school, yet Y/N only befriended a handful, around 7 of them. The closet friend Y/N had was Sam. He was around two years older than her and was protective over everyone.

They reason they formed a quick bond was because he had caught her crying in one of the abandoned classrooms around the school when he was checking to see if any walkers had managed to find their way into the premises but was stunned when he found the girl. Y/N had opened up to him, expressing how she lost her best friend and was sent her because she hardly was herself. Therefore Sam opened up to why he was sent there; constantly swearing and destroying a lot of things.

Ever since the day the two were inseparable. Most of the teenagers knew they were close, they knew that the two were the most likely the closest in the school, in level with Marlon & Louis and Violet & Minnie.

Around two years into the apocalypse, Sam and Y/N shared their first kiss in the same place they first met. Y/N was happy for the first time since Michael. She enjoyed spending time with Sam, someone which she could potentially be in love with.

However, both teenagers worlds were flipped upside down when Sam went out hunting and never returned home.

The day the incident happened, Y/N gave all the people leaving a hug. She gave Aasim a hug first, wishing him luck as he had to deal with Louis, then she gave Louis a tight hug, telling him to be careful and be alert as she needed her piano player. She then went to Mitch. Mitch buried his head in her neck, giving her a right reassuring hug than he’d be back in 3 hours at most, to which she smiled and nodded.

Y/N then went onto giving Sam a tight hug. Holding onto him like her life depended on it. She pulled away holding onto his shoulders before placing her lips on his, giving him a sweet but short kiss.

Most of the boys which were standing awaiting, groaned and faked a gag at the moment the two shared, which caused Y/N to flip them all off and Louis to place a hand over his heart; an act of him being offended.

After they left, Y/N walked over to one of the benches and sat down. Tenn passed her a piece of paper and offered her his colouring pencils to which she took and started to draw with him.

Violet approached the table, her hands hitting the wood before she swung her legs over the seat, “At times i really hate Brody”

Y/N sniggered to herself, pointing the red pencil to the blonde, “Well, technically, you’ve never liked her. You’ve just tolerated her.”

Violet kicked her under the table, Y/N yelping at the impact, “I hate you at times, you know”

“But you always come and speak to me. So i must really be ‘hated’ by you. Aren’t i?” Y/N laughed. Tenn tapping her shoulder and pointing to the red pencil she wasn’t using but holding. She handed the pencil over to the boy and returned her attention over to Violet, “What’s up then?”

Violet rolled her eyes, “Just wanted to see how things are. We haven’t spoken since my outburst from the card game. Which i’m sorry about.”

“It’s fine, Vi,” Y/N admitted, her eyes now lingering on the gate which her boyfriend left from not long ago, “Does it scare you? Going outside the walls?”

Violet looked at the gate also, shrugging her shoulders, “At first it’s scary. But eventually everything becomes fine. Seriously, next time i go fishing with,” she paused, faking a shiver, “with Brody, i’ll ask if you can tag along. Being out there with someone you trust, it’s the most important thing.”

Y/N shook her head, “It’s not that i don’t want to go out there. It’s just i’m scared. Of them. Walkers.”

Violet nodded, “Understandable. I was once but you kind of get use to it. You know, like i’ve gotten use to you”

After that, there was a silence on the table. The only sound which could be hear was the faint talking between the other kids in the yard and the pencil Tenn was moving across the paper.

Minutes turned into hours. And with the hours passing by, Y/N began to panic. Mitch had promised that they would be back in 3 hours but they were passing the borderline of 4 hours.

She turned her head the moment Willy shouted out to Marlon which was sitting on the steps to the admin building. Marlon rushed to Willy as he started to point outwards. Y/N shout up from her seat, going to a place where she could see the outside world through the gate. Rather than there being four teenagers, there was only three.

A hand placed itself on her shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. She turned her head, Violet was standing close to her.

“Shit,” Marlon shouted as he opened the gate for the three boys returning, “What happened? Where’s Sam?”

Y/N pushed herself forwards, now standing besides Marlon. Her eyes beginning to water, “Where’s Sam?”

Louis looked down to the floor, Aasim mirroring the dreadlocked boy, this leaving Mitch to deal with the question, “He. Sam didn’t make it”

Y/N chocked on some tears, a hand flying out shoving Mitch’s shoulder, “What do you mean? He didn’t make it?”

Mitch reached out for her hand just she yanked it away, “Im so sorry.”

Y/N began to cry, she lunges herself forwards in attempt to start hitting Mitch’s chest, but she just ended up breaking down. Mitch wrapped his arms around her, the other teenagers silently slipping away from the scene.

“H-h-how?” The girl cried. Holding tighter onto his blue jacket

Mitch ran a hand through her hair, comforting her, “A walker. While i was checking a trap. He didn’t see it. I’m sorry. If i was fast enough. Then. Shit. I could have helped him.”

Y/N cried harder into the Mitch arms. The male just allowing it, despite everyone watching them even though they were far away. Mitch relaxed into the hug, pulling her tighter.

“I think i loved him” Y/N admitted.

And for some reason, that little confession made Mitch’s heart ache.

———

I had to make this a two parter because tumblr wouldn’t let me put it all in one. so hopefully you’ll read part two which is below;

PART TWO (link is also above)

[ghoulboyboos]

All the Ryan angst pls but happy ending no death

Oohoho nonny I worked a lot on this because I’m such a sappy little shit I’m bad with angst but then I had an idea that literally wrenched all my friends’ hearts out of their chests so I think this will do. I hope.

(Also I’m SURE that’s not how selective Amnesia or any type of memory loss works but allow me to write it like this just for the sake of the angst, plz)

Ryan wakes in a bed that isn’t his with a headache.Before he can think about parties, hangovers and bad decisionshowever, he takes in the sterile air, the humming machine to his leftand the IV in his arm. He can’t remember falling asleep in ahospital so waking up in one is kind of jarring. He wants to speak,but his mouth is so dry that all he can do is cough.

“Ryan! Oh thank goodness!”

He cranes his head and then his mother leans overhim, touching his forehead tenderly. She looks shaken up, eyesreddened and her lip is wobbling. Ryan gives her a grin as bright hecan muster, even though his head aches. Next to his mum, his fathermoves into view.

“What happened?” He manages, throat stillscratchy and dry.

His mom still pets his head and he reaches up,fingers brushing against thick bandages.

“You had a car accident, Ryan.” His father sayssoftly. Someone hit you at an intersection. You were unconscious formore than thirty hours.“

Holy shit. Ryan blinks.

“Shane’s waiting outside.” His mom adds. Shelooks across Ryan’s bed and he sees his brother sitting on hisother side, patting his knee.

“I’ll get him.” Jake says and gets up and outthe door.

Ryan frowns.

“Why is Shane here?” He asks. “Only family andnext of kin, right?”

“Right.” His father agrees, looking slightlyconfused. Ryan’s parents exchange a look and his mom continues:

“Shane called us right after he knew what hospitalthey were taking you. He was so worried.”

“Why did Shane know?” Ryan’s mind is trying tomake sense of it all. “Was he in the car with me?”

“No, sweetie. He was waiting for you at home.”His mother is smiling softly and Ryan is even more confused. At home?Whose home? His or Shane’s? Then again why would Shane wait for himat Ryan’s place? The big guy didn’t even have a key.

Before he can ask, however, the door opens and Jakereturns, followed by Shane.

Ryan knows it’s not nice thinking that, but hisfriend looks like shit. He’s disheveled and has deep, darkbags under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept in days. His eyes, nowthat he’s coming closer are red rimmed as well and Ryan feels asense of fear. How bad had he been for Shane to worry himself totears? Again, he can’t ask because Shane breathes out and walksover.

“Hey, baby. Glad to see you up and awake again.”

Ryan makes a face and grumbles “Don’t call mebaby, man, that’s weird.” right when Shane leans in and kisseshim on the forehead.

He flinches back becausewhat the fuck and sees the surprise and… hurt in Shane’sface. Ryan blinks at him in confusion.

“Ryan?”Shane’s voice is unsure, worried and then Ryan’s father takes himby the arm and turns him away and starts speaking very quietly tohim.

Ryandrifts in and out of unconsciousness. Once he finally can rest hishead on the pillow without pain and without being pumped full of painmedication, a doctor speaks to him. She says a lot of words that Ryandoesn’t have the description to, but the basic meaning becomesclear:

SelectiveAmnesia.

Ryanwas missing a whole year. He lies down and stares at theceiling, trying to understand. An entire year of friends and familyand doing Unsolved, gone. On top of that, according to his parents –because Shane was too shocked to do it – a year in which he foundnew love in old friends.

Shaneand I got together? He thinks, completely confused. He doesn’tunderstand. As far as he remembers, he has only ever dated women.Sure, there were men he knew were attractive but he never really feltattracted himself. He wantsto ask Shane. About everything: How did they get together? Was it adesperate confession? Did they go on many dates? How long until theymoved in together?

But Ryan is scared because he is someone who gets scared. He sawShane’s face after brushing off the forehead kiss and his heartsinks.

Shane has been dating me for almost a year. Our anniversary must becoming up, soon and instead of a loving boyfriend, he has a guy whojerks back when you want to kiss him.

Ryan swallows. He’s still uncomfortable with the idea, but thethought of Shane being rejected and left alone and pushed away by theperson he loves… hurts. Ryan is pretty sure it’s not anafter-effect of dating Shane before he lost his memories. Shane ishis friend, he cares about him, so of course, he wants Shane to behappy.

It’s not easy.

Ryancatches the doctor telling Shane to try and keep things slow. Shesuggested that Shane would introduce Ryan into new things wheneverRyan hit a wall or found something new. She also tells him not torush it and Ryan’s heart hurts strangely when Shane swearshe will never push Ryan.

He stares at the ceiling again.

Could he love Shane? If he’s honest, he doesn’t know. He verymuch would like it for all his memories to come back and fill him in,but he just lies there, having to remind himself that both True Crimeand Supernatural seasons 4 are over and that a new season is comingup soon – except they postponed it because of Ryan being ill. Sosomewhere over the course of the last year, he and Shane gottogether. He wants to ask, but the pained look in Shane’s eyeskeeps him from it.

At first.

-

Ryan is released and Shane takes him home. Home, meaning their sharedspace and Ryan looks around a home that feels vaguely familiar and isfilled about half with his stuff and half with Shane’s. Shane hasbeen so careful, he has picked up Ryan from the hospital andchit-chatted about everything and nothing. Ryan thinks about what itmust feel like if your partner doesn’t recognize you as such.

Shane leaves him the bed. They only have one, of course.

“I can take the couch, it’s no big deal. We made sure I canstretch out on it when we bought it and you said-” He blinks andbreaks off. “Nevermind.”

“What did I say?”

Shane swallows and looks away.

“You said you’d only ever ban me to it if I mocked your ghosttheories in bed.”

Ryan’s stomach drops. It sounds like something he would say, if heand Shane really slept in the same bed on the regular. He startstwisting the corner of his shirt in his fists.

“You can sleep here, I don’t mind. I’m not weirded out by it oranything.”

Shane still doesn’t look at him when he sighs and shakes his head.

“It’s better if I don’t. We usually… we used to cuddlea lot and I don’t want to latch onto you while asleep and freak youout. To be honest, it would feel pretty bad in general, you know.”

He makes a vague gesture towards Ryan as if he wants to initiatecasual touch but can’t. Ryan nods. Maybe he should go to a hotelroom for a while. Or visit his parents. But that feels even worsethan hanging with Shane so he doesn’t.

Ryan takes the bed, Shane takes the couch. Ryan stares at the ceilingand despite the sleep enhancing medication the hospital gave him,he’s up for a long time, wondering how and why he would forgetanything this huge in his life.

-

He can’t keep quiet forever.

“Shane.” He says one night when Shane makes sure Ryan took hismeds before lying down. “I’m… I know I can’t control it. ButI’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’m causing you pain.”

He means it, every word. Shane is still so important to him and theidea of hurting him like that is so incredibly painful, especiallywhen Shane smiles at him. Soft and kind and understanding.

“Iknow, babe.” Shane swallows and looks away when he catches himselfusing the pet name. “Sorry. I know, Ryan.I really know. It’s not your fault, okay? Just focus on recovering.If you don’t remember the year I’ll fill you in on Unsolved andeverything around us- I mean, around you… And then I’ll leave youto it, okay? I promise.”

Ryan bites his bottom lip but doesn’t answer.

-

“Whatwas our first kiss like?” Ryan asks while they are watching theepisodes of Unsolved he doesn’t remember planning, writing,shooting or editing. Shane flinches next to him and Ryan feelsterrible.

“You don’t have to-” He starts, but Shane shakes his head.

“It’sfine.” He huffs a sigh and stares ahead ashe pauses the video. Finallyhe shifts to look at Ryan and it’s strange and exposing to belooked at like that by Shane, to be looked at like he is the mostamazing person Shane has ever met and Ryan’s head hurts. This isdumb. He’s not in love with Shane but he should be. He fell in lovewith this man some time around the year and he can’t rememberit or feel it. It hurts him because it feels like Ryan has lostsomething that was very precious and dear, but he can’t rememberfor the love of God whereand how and what.

Shane finally starts to speak.

“Ihad feelings for you for a while. You could get a bit… “no-homo”sometimes so I didn’t tell you, I thought you would freak out. Ilike being around you in anyway you prefer… and preferred.” Ryan sees Shane’s throat bob ashe swallows and he wants to hug the other man to calm him down, buthe knows it would make everything even worse.

“SoI didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell you for months.” Shane staresahead, eyes empty and it breaks Ryan’s heart. He doesn’tunderstand his feelings. Part of him – he’s pretty sure aboutthat one – sees a friend in terrible agony and experiencingheartbreak and he wants to help. But he knows he can’t because heis the cause of that heartbreakand the situation feels so unfair he could scream. He never wanted tocause his friends pain, especially not Shane who is always funny,always kind, always chill, always positive…

Ryan wants to cry. For him, for Shane, for what they had and what helost. Instead he reaches out and hovers with his hand over Shane’sfor a moment or two. Shane looks over at him and Ryan can see thetwinge of hope under the pain before it gets swallowed up bydesperation and drowned in sadness. He finally touches Shane’s handand it feels familiar but not, new but like he did it a hundred timesbefore.

Finally, Shane continues.

“We came back from location… I think we were both really tired,didn’t get much sleep, you know.” He shoots Ryan a smile and Ryancan’t help it, he laughs a little. Ryan rarely sleeps on locationand he often keeps Shane awake as well. “I suggested we meet up fora movie and have some popcorn to wind down so you could get your muchneeded sleep.” Shane suddenly looks guilty and Ryan thinks abouthow weird this must be, telling your partner that you worried abouttheir health and feeling bad about it. Again, Ryan feels like heshould touch Shane, maybe hug him, but at the same time it would feellike torture to Shane, he’s sure, so he doesn’t.

“Andthen…” Shane’s voice drops in volume and he looks like he’sfar, far away, swallowing and closing his eyes. “While we werewatching the movie, there waskind of a lull. I don’t remember what we were watching but itwasn’t very interesting. I made some joke about the main characterand we laughed and I looked over at you and you were suddenly reallyclose, leaned all the way in so we were pressed together and thenyou kissed me.” Shane openshis eyes again, still with the faraway look in his eyes as if he isstaring right in the eyes of past-Ryan who didn’t have a fucked uphead and knew that he loved Shane. He starts to smile softly andRyan’s stomach twists. “Youtold me you liked me and that you couldn’t take it anymore… So,of course, instead of just kissing you I made you tell me three timesthat youwere absolutely sure and that you meant it and knew what you weredoing.”

Shane looks up, guiltily and Ryan wishes, prays that he could feelthe urge to kiss this man and soothe the pain on his face. It doesn’tcome.

Howmuch time did I really lose? Hewonders. If he had been in love with Shane for a while beforeconfessing, he must have carried it as a secret for a while. How comehis current brain doesn’t hold that secret?

Maybeit’s because I spilled it already.Ryan muses with a sigh. They both stare at the frozen image ofthemselves on the Unsolved set. Shane has made a joke and Ryan islaughing and grinning widely, eyes bright and trained on the otherman and he looks like he is absolutely elated to be around him.

Ryanburies his head in his hands and digs his fingertips in his skull asif he could somehow reach in there and pull out all that he needed tounderstand.

-

“Did we tell other’s? HR? Friends? Family? The fans?”

Shane smiles his sad little smile at him and Ryan wants to rip hisown tongue out.

“Yeah. All of them. One after the other. Everyone was so happy forus, people sometimes said they had waited for us to get there. Yourmom cried, my dad cried… they were so happy for us.” He blinks ashe realizes he’s repeating himself.

Shanereaches out for Ryan’s hand before he stops himself. Ryan slowlybrings up his hand until their fingers brush. There is no lightningspark as he hoped, but Shane takes his hand nonetheless and it feels…alright. Not as weird as Ryan expected. It’scomfortable and he can live with that.

-

Sometimes, Ryan dreams of things that might have happened. Shane andhim in a movie theater, holding hands and laughing at whateverhappened on screen. Coming home to a new flat that is already warmedand prepared and lived in. Shane cooking for him. Their familiesinviting them for Christmas.

Ryanknows that their anniversary must come up soon but Shane keeps takingcare of him, giving him space, leaving theirbedroom to sleep on the couchbecause he doesn’t want to make Ryan uncomfortable. Ryan,meanwhile, just wants to understand. Hewants to love this man, but he can’t force himself to do it,because whenever he looks attheir pictures together he thinks “wrong wrong wrong wrong”, overand over until Shane catches him spacing out and distractshim.

Onenight, he thinks about the story of their first kiss andlooks at the instagram they made to let their followers know thatthey were together. Helaughs as on-screen Shane and Ryan talk about how neitherof them are ready or knowwhat they are doing andRyan finds it somewhathelpful. Past-Ryan didn’t know what to do either and he figured itout. Ryan can figure it out again, right?

Right?

-

Hisown instagram has a bunch of sports events on it and Ryan watchesreruns of the games. Sometimes he has a sense of déjà-vu, knows ifthe player will score or not right before they do; once he has aspectacular moment of flinching right before the batter loses grip ofthe bat and flings it across the field. He hears the crowd react andhas a vague memory of his brother bringing his hands to his mouth inshock while the people around him gasp.

Nobodygot hurt, but it was still a powerful swing and the bat had nearlylanded in the lower ranks.

Ryanblinks at the screen, the incident already forgotten and the playersback in game. Something tingles in the back of his head.

-

Hevisits his family for a couple of days. Shane sees him off and makessure he has packed everything, including his new medication. Ryanlooks up at the face that’s so fucking familiar but also notbecause he’s not used standing so close or seeing Shane lean downas if he wants to kiss Ryan’s forehead and Shane’s expression isstill pained. It’s part of his face by now, smoothed out and barelycovered by forced neutrality or slight smiles.

Ryanmoves without thinking and brings his arms up to wrap them aroundShane’s shoulders, pullingthe other man into a hug. Shane only stiffens for a second before hehugs Ryan around the waist. It’s not especially tight or desperatebut Shane tucks his face against Ryan’s shoulder as if hiding. Ryanis surprised how comfortable he feels.

-

Hisparents fill him in on everything else that happened over the lastyear. Little differences in their relatives’ lives, what littlenonsense the dogs did (and what their Halloween costumes had been).Ryan’s dad plays beer pong with him like he sometimes did when Ryanwas still in college. His mum makes his favorite for dinner and hesits out on the porch with Jake and drinks a beer, asking about whenhe told him about Shane.

“Youtexted me a couple days after you got together. You had a minor freakout because you were going out on your first date and didn’t knowwhat you wear on a date with a dude.”

Ryansnorts into his beer even though his cheeks heat up. It sounds likehim.

“Whythe fuck would I text youof all people? You don’t know that shit either.”

Jakegives a wide shrug that conveys the phrase Fuck if I knowbut he’s laughing.

“Ifigured you wear something nice on a date, no matter what gender andI told you to chill out and ask your queer friends and you textedback and told me you don’t trust them with your wardrobe and thenyou were quiet for like ten minutes before just sending me a thumbsup emoji and that was that.”

Ryanhums and goes through his phone. He finds a picture of him and Shane,seated at a booth in a restaurant. They both look very nice. Ryan iswearing a black shirt that shows off his bicep and he knows he pickedthat on purpose to look good for Shane. A little tingle coils in hisstomach and he feels his cheeks warm.

“Ihope the date went well.”

Jakelooks at him, a little pitying.

“WellI sure hope so because four months later you lived together.”

“Wow,we sure moved fast…” Ryan mutters, still looking at the picture.

Jakereaches out and puts a hand on his back.

“Yousaid something about making up for lost time.”

Ryanholds his head and tries to take deep breaths.

Makingup for lost time. That’s a fucking laugh, huh.

-

Threedays into the week of hanging with his parents, Ryanhas a dream. Heknows it’s a dream because it’s so non-linear it makes his urgeto organize everythingflare up. It’s not even a lucid dream, because he can’t changeanything.

It’slike he’s watching a movie on a jumping, cut and re-cut and tapedtogether film roll that keeps skipping over some moments and lingerson others.

Ryanin a winter coat freezing his ass off and Shane reaching out andwrapping him in a warm hug, laughing at Ryan’s muffled protestswhen he calls him a sun-starved lily of the valley.

Shaneacross from him at a candlelit dinner table, looking so smitten andhappy that Ryan could throw himself over the table and kiss theliving daylightsout of him.

Bothon the set of Unsolved giggling about something with the firmreminder in the back of Ryan’s head that it’s almost three monthsand that Shane is taking him to the movies later.

Afuzzy memory of Shane’s mouth on his shoulder and a lot of warmthand a lot of naked skin and Ryan isn’t freaking out in the least,he actually finds himself craving more.

Curledup on the couch with his laptop, working on a project from home andordering food online since Shane will be home soon, jumping off thecouch as soon as he hears the keys jangle because, fuck, he missedthe big guy.

Ryantaking a specific date off a month in advance because he has plans,he only needs to pick up the gift first-

-

Heshoots up in bed, head pounding but the shock in his system doesn’tcome from that.

Shit.He remembers what he forgot. Not everythingbut the basics and one spectacularly important detail that gets himto jump out of bed at six in the morning and scramble to get hisclothes.

Whenhe runs downstairs his parents are already up, looking at himstartled because Ryan hasn’t been up this early under this roof forabout ten years.

“Iremember now. Fuck!” He rarely cusses in front of his parents butthey don’t seem to care right now. “I need to go back. I need tosee Shane-”

Hescrambles for his keys while also trying to put on his jacket and hisshoes, all at the same time and he immediately drops the keys whilefumbling and curses again.

Jakepops into his periphery and picks up the keys.

“Youdon’t look fit to drive, man. I’ll take you. We can pick yourstuff up later, come on.”

Ryanis so relieved he could cry but there is no time for that. He rushesto give his parents each a tight hug before he runs after Jake who’salready in the car.

Thewhole ride home Ryan is fretting but Jake won’t go any fasterbecause: “The last time you rushed to get to the guy, you ended upin this mess so sit still and fucking wait.”

Hedoes. He tries at least.

-

Theytake one detour at Ryan’s request before they reach the apartment.Ryan is about to list all the things he is grateful for when it comesto Jake but his brother just kicks him out of the car and says theycan talk later and Ryan runs up all four floors to their space, noteven bothering with the lift. He digs out his keys and, yeah he doesremember which one it is because he never fucking grabs iton the first go goddamn it andthen he throws open the door so hard that it slams against the wallnext to it and he stands in the hall, huffing for breath.

Hecan see Shane sit in their small kitchen, laptop open and probablyworking on something but his head flies up when he hearsthe noise.

“Ryan.”He seems surprised, eyescomically wide but then the old familiar worry settles on hisfeatures. “Are you alright? Did something happen?” He gets up. “Ithought you wouldn’t be home before-”

Thatis all he gets to say because Ryan has finally made his way over tohim and grabbed him by the lapels to pull him into a kiss.

Oh.He thinks. That’s what I forgot about. How the fuck did Iforget about this.

Shanetries to pull back for a moment but Ryan’s hands settle in thetaller man’s hair and he remembers doing that, remembers how muchhe loves running his fingers through Shane’s hair while they kissbecause it’s soft and because Shane makes that little noise he doesright now and because Shane grabs his hips just a little tighter whenhe does it – which is what Shane does this time, too.

“Ryan.”It’s barely a whisper against his mouth and Ryan could cry. The bagwith the gift is still dangling from his arm and he backs off just alittle to look at Shane. His boyfriend (right, that’s what theyare) looks surprised and hopeful but also still so crushed and Ryancould kiss him till that last part is gone but first-

“Iremember. Fuck, I remember where I was going before coming home.”He digs in the bag and pulls out the box. It’s comically big and hewould have wrapped it in something nice but there wasn’t any time.

“HappyAnniversary, babe.” Ryan says and feels his voice crack because heshouldn’t get emotional over getting his boyfriend of oneyear a fucking Poe Dameronfigurine, even though it’s big and limited edition but he reallyfeels like he could cry for a week now and Shane takes it from him,looking absolutely stunned before glancing up at Ryan.

“Iwanted to pick it up that night. But then I got totaled and forgotabout it and so much more and- Fuck, Shane I caused you so much painI can’t even imagine do you think you can ever-”

Shaneis on him again and the gift digs into his back as Shane pulls himjust a little too tightly into his arms and kisses him and Ryan holdsonto him and kisses back and his head is still pounding but it’sokay because there are still moments coming back and he enjoysreliving every single one of them.

-

Thereare still a few gaps in his memory but Shane is more than happy tohelp him fill them in. And should Ryan for some reason not be able toget back some of the memories, they can always make new ones.

Also,he’s never lettingShane sleep on the couch ever again. No matter what the big oaf says.

[katehuntington]

Title: Changes - part two Word count: ±3000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work as a team. Summary part two: Four years after the demon attack, a young woman is playing a cat and mouse game with another supernatural creature. Only this time around, she’s the hunter. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks.  Music: About A Girl - Nirvana Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. @coffee-obsessed-writer​, @soupornatural​ & @mrswhozeewhatsis​, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​ & @winchest09​ who are deciphering the recent version; thank you for helping me with this story and for taking it to a higher level. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

     Rochester, Minnesota      November 24th, 2005

     Rain falls during a chilly night in November. Thunder rumbles in the distance, as heavy showers dim flashes of lightning that jump from one cloud to the other. Several miles outside of the city in the wide-open spaces, the world seems deserted. The atmosphere is threatening as nature shows her power. Straight roads cross the farmlands, not a living soul using them. No one is on their way home or driving away from it. Then again, in this weather, who would want to be out on the road? 

     In the distance, a light appears and steadily approaches. A bright shimmer reflects in the water on the asphalt, the sound of an engine building as the vehicle gets closer. It’s not an ordinary engine, not even close to the sound that modern cars produce these days. Actually, it’s not even a car.      A black Harley Davidson cuts through the night, roaring like a lion. The classic motorbike leaves a spray in its wake, the water catapulted from the back tire. The polished paint job shines proudly, catching even the smallest glint of light. Raindrops try to cling to waxed metal, failing miserably. It’s obvious the owner of this beauty takes good care of her. It’s the type of bike you would expect an old rocker to ride. The kind that listens to Metallica and is a member of a biker gang. A tough guy with a beard and big sideburns, who rides from roadhouse to roadhouse, consuming nothing but steak and beer. Nevertheless, this lucky Harley is ridden by a young woman. 

     The rider seems to be in a hurry; despite the slippery roads; she’s speeding down 75th street NW at ninety miles an hour. This woman and her Harley have reason to haste. The biker tries to focus on the road ahead, yet glances in her side mirror frequently, checking if she’s being followed. The sharp pain in her abdomen keeps her awake. She mutters to herself, biting down the pain. How could you be so fucking stupid? It’s your job to know what you’re dealing with, and yet you were caught off guard!

     The suburb of Rochester appears in the south; she’s almost there. The rider bends over her bike, clamping one arm around her waist and applying pressure.       “Fucking hell,” she curses.      She refuses to look down at her injury and keeps herself together. Hopefully, it’s not too bad, she doesn’t have time to get stuck in the ER. It’s during moments like these she regrets falling in love with her ‘94 Harley Davidson Road King, because a faster bike like a modern Kawasaki sports bike would be much more convenient right now. 

     She follows the road, which is shadowed by trees on both sides, until she passes through a small town, called Douglas. Again, she checks her mirrors, but there’s nothing on her tail. In front of her, several cars and trucks are driving up route 52. A sigh of relief escapes her mouth; back in the civilized world.       After turning right just before the highway, she speeds up again on the road running parallel to it. Finally, the motel appears in the distance, a building with a large neon number ‘6’ on the roof. The female biker parks her Harley in front of the motel and turns the ignition. Not nearly as graceful as usual, she gets off her bike and heads toward the entrance of the motel. With her right hand on her bleeding wound, she stumbles across the parking lot as she takes off her helmet. 

     A flash of lightning cracks the sky and reflects on the cars parked in front. For a split second, she thinks she sees a shadow standing in the rain. Quickly, she turns towards it, but it’s gone, yet her hand goes for the gun tucked behind her waistband, instinctively. On high alert, she scans her surroundings, her intuition telling her she’s not alone. Is she getting paranoid? He wouldn’t come out here and follow her by car, would he? That would be insane, he’d be too exposed.      Her hand slips from the grip of the weapon and she makes a run for it. After hastily entering the motel, she closes the door behind her. It’s warm in the lobby, country music playing in the background, a huge contrast to the chilling weather outside. Standing in the bleak light instead of mysterious shadows makes her feel a bit more at ease. 

     The old man behind the counter looks up from his paper, peaking over his reading glasses. An empty soda bottle decorates his desk along with some paper wrappers which once held a Wendy’s cheeseburger. She stares at the wrappers for a moment. Fuck, she would kill for a burger right now.      “You’re behind on your payment, Mrs. Johnson,” the old man remarks.      She throws a Mastercard on the desk while closing her coat around her body, hiding her injury and keeping the hand she used to staunch the bleeding firmly against her side. The motel manager thankfully doesn’t seem to pick up on anything out of the ordinary and takes the card without thanking her.      “I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you the extra night, too. It’s way past check out.”      “No worries, book two more. I’ll be sticking around for a few more days,” she returns.      “Business taking longer than expected, huh?” he assumes, while working the computer.      “Something like that, yeah,” she answers shortly, not willing to elaborate.      “Those two nights were the last slots. It’s busy this weekend.” The man behind the desk hits the enter button. “You’re in luck.”      She frowns at the comment. Right, luck. Looks like luck got me fucking shot. Thankfully he doesn’t have any further questions, she’s not in the mood for a chit-chat with the fossil. 

     The restless woman scans the parking lot outside for the third time, slightly out of breath, her face tense. Every once in awhile the motel manager glances over his screen, observing his client. Her black leather biker jacket is soaked through, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. Brown hair falls down her shoulders, the tips escaped her helmet drenched from the rain. Her dark eyes seem worried, makeup slightly faded. A young woman, who - according to the information he got from her when she checked in - married early, apparently. How old could she be? Twenty four, twenty-five, maybe? She doesn’t really seem like the marrying type, and he has seen many folks come and go. The poor girl looks pale, too, as if she’s ill or carrying a heavy weight upon her shoulders. A lot of shady business has happened in his motel, so he knows the signs. Maybe it’s drug related, maybe she’s fleeing from an abusive relationship. Who knows? He doesn’t bother to ask anymore. It would put him out of business if he would. Besides, she doesn’t seem like the person anyone would want to mess with. He does make a mental note to keep an eye on her and make sure his motel doesn’t turn into a crime scene.      “Here ya go.” He hands her back her credit card. “You know the way.”

     The mystery woman nods, picks up her helmet from the desk, and turns down the hallway. While entering room number 82, she takes off her jacket together with her tartan wind scarf and strides to the bathroom. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, her gaze drops to her abdomen, where a bloodstain has darkened her grey shirt. She lifts it up, the fabric sticking to the punctured skin. Fuck, that feels anything but pleasant. She reveals the bullet wound underneath, several inches to the left of her belly button.      “Shit, shit, shit.”       Carefully she takes off her shirt, her breasts only covered with a bra. Still staring at her reflection, she ponders on her next move. Maybe paying a visit to the hospital isn’t such a bad idea after all. That bullet could have ripped through a number of organs. The small intestine, descending colon, she remembers clearly from the books and lectures. The inferior mesenteric artery branches out there too.       “Would’ve been more blood if it was an artery,” she mutters to no one but her own lonesome mind.

     The fact that the bullet bounced off the wall before it hit her, could mean that it didn’t sink too deep into her skin. She decides to give it a try and fish it out herself; if she can’t solve the problem, a doctor’s visit is always an option.      The young woman grabs a clean towel and wipes away the crimson around the wound as she moves back to the bedroom. She takes a small briefcase from under the bed, putting it down on the table in the corner of the room. A sigh falls from her lips when she sits down on the chair, then opens the lid, revealing a wide range of surgical instruments and medical supplies. Gauze, suture thread, sterilizers, tape, syringes, catheters, and several small bottles with different substances ranging from morphine to epinephrine; enough gear to do minor surgery.      She swallows apprehensively; this is going to get nasty.      “Hell, I’m not doing this alone.”      Next to her bed, a bottle of whiskey beckons her. With a moan, the injured woman gets up, grabs the Johnny Walker and the glass next to it. She turns on the radio on the cabinet, twisting the volume button all the way, and walks back to the table, halting to face the mirror inside the briefcase. Filling up the glass with alcohol, she grabs gloves, forceps, and other supplies she is going to need. In the background, the first tones of About A Girl by Nirvana comes through the small speaker. With the bottle of Johnny’s Black Label on standby, she clears her throat while putting on the blue latex gloves. Here goes nothing. 

     There is a sharp increase in pain as the forceps slowly enter her body. With her eyes focused on the reflection in the mirror, her jaws clamp together as she tries to reach the bullet. She groans, fighting the intense agony that almost seizes her attempt, struggling to contain herself and steady her breathing. Not wanting to draw any attention is the only thing preventing her from screaming at the top of her lungs. Finally, the forceps touch something solid. With tears burning in her eyes, she succeeds in getting a hold of it, then carefully pulls back and drops the bullet into the glass. Quickly, she grabs the whiskey and takes large swigs, wincing at the afterburn.      “Fuck, that hurts,” she hisses, placing the bottle back on the table with a loud bang.

     The worst part is done, but it’s not quite finished yet. Shaky hands reach for the disinfectant, but unfortunately, the bottle of chlorhexidine is empty. Stupid, she should have stocked up immediately after she used it all last time. Oh well, whiskey will have to do then. And so she takes the Jack and pours the last bit of whiskey over the wound. The alcohol needs only a second before taking effect. But when the stinging pain does come, she’s unable to tone down the growl leaving her throat. But you know what really pisses her off? Now she’s out of whiskey, too. 

     Frustrated, the young woman clenches her fist, waiting for the pain to fade until it’s bearable. After several minutes, she has finally calmed down enough to proceed. She takes the thread and stitch scissors and finishes the job. The pain from the stitching needle piercing her skin isn’t too bad; it almost feels like a tickle compared to the forceps. After ripping a sterile wound pad out of its package with her teeth and soaking it in betadine, she places it over the wound and tapes it to her skin. All done. Unfortunately, she will live to see another day.

     With a sigh, she strolls over to the bathroom while pulling her latex gloves off her hands. Again, the woman - who basically just performed surgery on herself - looks in the mirror.      “Well hello, gorgeous,” she mutters sarcastically, registering the bags under her eyes, the run-down mascara and messy hair.       She looks like a train wreck and that’s an understatement. But considering recent events, she's lucky to still be standing. After opening the faucet, she bends over the sink. The water feels refreshing on her skin as she washes her face. With her hands on the edge of the sink, she closes her eyes. Time for a moment to stop, debrief, and take a breath.

     The fucking night she had. 

     What the hell happened out there? Where did this go wrong? She found a pattern, located the next victim. At least, she thought she did.       Burdened, the brunette turns around and slowly walks back to the main room. The interior of the motel is rather boring, but the bed is comfortable enough and there’s a television. Normally she insists on more luxurious hotels, but with two big events happening in the city, this was all she could find. 

     By the bed, she halts. A puzzle of newspaper articles, pictures, books, and blueprints lay spread out over the mattress as some sort of mind map. An outsider would think this so-called Mrs. Johnson might be a special agent. That, or a psychotic killer, but neither is true. In fact, her name isn’t even Mrs. Johnson. 

     Biting her lip, she narrows her brown eyes and tries to find some sort of link, an explanation for what happened tonight. Terry Cliffer, the guy she expected to be the next target, turned out to be the bad guy. The bastard who shot her certainly looked an awful lot like Cliffer. Somehow the suspect was on to her and made a change of plans, but what was the trigger?      She picks up two articles, both from the local paper, the Post-Bulletin. One is about a murderer with an ironclad alibi, the other a tiny report of a strange robbery. Both incidents took place during the same night, both suspects were caught on surveillance cameras, both claimed to be elsewhere at the time of the crime, and neither fit the profile of a killer or a thief. Two separate mysteries for the local police, one crystal clear case for a hunter. Until now, that is.

      She mutters unintelligibly, annoyed with the fact that she’s one step behind. There’s another question poking at her subconscious, maybe one of even bigger importance: how the hell did it shift so fast? She picks up a book from her bed and rereads the passage she labeled ‘Shapeshifting’.      ‘Shapeshifting is a common theme in mythology and folklore. In its broadest sense, it is a metamorphosis (change in the physical form or shape) of a person. Shapeshifting involves physical changes such as alterations of age, gender, race,  general appearance, or changes between human and animal form.’      Still standing up, she leafs through the book, trying to find what she’s looking for.      “Forms of shapeshifting, powers, punitive changes, needed items, yadda yadda yadda. Damn it, where is it!?” 

     Throwing the book back on the bed, she sits down, wincing, and pulls her MacBook closer on the table. Focused, she fires up the hard drive and opens her archives. After a bit of searching, the screen finally shows the information she’s been looking for.      “Shifting process: The shifting process takes several hours, but can be hastened by the shapeshifter itself, by tearing off its own flesh - Oh, that’s just gross.” She shivers, disgusted, staring and rereading the passage just to be sure.      It might be gross, but this is what’s happening. Something disturbed the monster she’s hunting, but did she mess up this job or did someone else blow her cover? 

     She has to go back to the roots of this case for everything to make sense. At least three people are connected to each other. Three people who don’t work together, who don’t live close by, but there’s one thing they have in common: they’ve all been seen at 110th Ave NW just outside Rochester this month. Traffic cams confirmed this, so the shifter must be hiding somewhere along that road. But where?      She opens a satellite picture of the area on her Apple computer and observes the houses alongside the road. The estates are spread out and have long driveways. It would take months to figure out where the shifter’s den is, and the creature will be long gone by then. Yesterday, she thought she had a lead. She discovered the thing uses the sewer system to travel. More than fifty percent of the houses out there aren’t connected to the sewer system, but have their own septic tanks, so she could scratch those off the list. Only nine of the remaining houses are empty. The problem is, she already checked those homes and ended up with nothing.

     “C’mon, what does your gut tell you?” she mumbles to herself.      One house, deep in the forest, captures her eye. It’s not connected to the sewer system, but on the last drive by, she saw a ‘for sale’ sign by the side of the road. Good chance it’s empty. It wouldn’t make any sense for the shapeshifter to hide out in the woods, miles from the sewer, but she has a feeling something’s going on in that place. Her intuition is the only thing she’s going on, since there are no leads left to investigate. Why is a voice in the back of her mind telling her to go there when it makes absolutely no sense?      “This is fucking insane,” she states out loud as she gets up to put on a new top.      Insane, maybe. But she is not going to sit on her ass and watch this monster get away with more abductions. What concerns her, is the people of which it stole their identities, are now missing. They could be dead for all she knows, but they could also be held some place, and in that case, every second counts. This stops tonight; she has been hunting this fucker for way too long. Determined, she gathers her stuff and leaves the room, heading back to the hunting fields.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read chapter three here!

[angelinarecs]

*Updated* The Librarian Recs

Don’t mind me casually logging back into tumblr to rec more fanfic after being out for a while. 

Enjoy some updated fic recs for The Librarians (which I recently got my spouse addicted to). Still mad that this show gave me so many emotions. If you want to follow the full rec list, here’s the link. 

Gen

Anytime - Episode tag to “And the Fangs of Death”. What was Ezekiel feeling and thinking at the end? Hurt/Comfort/Family. Ezekiel’s thoughts while facing the prospect of losing himself completely and the surety that his friends will do what they have to do for him. One-shot.

Bite the Bullet - When Ezekiel’s shot during a mission, will his family be able to save him in time? Ezekiel whump. Hurt/Comfort/Angst. What is says on the tin, pure Ezekiel whump and his team worrying after their resident master thief. It’s short and the composition isn’t the best, but the writing is alright. Three-shot, complete.

Escapades - Jenkins is careful when he drops the Australian onto the bed, moving to haul the blankets back and over the weary figure thats curling around one of the fluffier pillows. “Now, sleep, and hopefully tomorrow you’ll be well enough to explain to me what he hell you were doing getting shot at.” He snips.

“Fine…but we n’ver tell Baird bout this, eh?” Ezekiel mutters, eyes slipping closed as exhaustion crashes over him. Hurt/Comfort/Friendship. Ezekiel manages to get himself shot and poisoned. Jenkins is there to pick up the pieces. Lots of snark, a little bit of swearing, and tons of angst to go around. One-shot.

Ezekiel Jones and the Silver Coin - When a wealthy woman is murdered by a thief who broke into her home to steal her most prized possession, the Librarians are sent to Dublin, Ireland to investigate, despite the appearance of it being a normal theft and murder. After their first run in with the monster, everything changes for the Librarians’ own thief as he begins to second guess his decision to become a Librarian. Fantasy/Hurt/Comfort. A series centering around the search for an artifact and Ezekiel’s own personal battles as he meets up with unexpected and unwelcome people from his past. I always enjoy stories that look to flesh out what the Librarians-in-training were like before the Library called them. Complete.

Flight Risk - Ezekiel never meant to do a lot of things: Get caught. Get caught by Flynn. Have Baird find his file, etc… He also never meant to let a sad looking gargoyle steal his heart. But you know, accidents happen. Fluff. Another Stumpy fix-it, because dammit guys, that gargoyle and Ezekiel deserved better! One-shot.

Home - A life-threatening incident in the library makes Cassandra and Jake realize just how much Ezekiel means to them and how much they mean to Ezekiel. In the after-math, Cassandra must learn to overcome her guilt and Jake must learn to appreciate those around him. Hurt/Comfort/Family. An accident injures Ezekiel and forces those around them to consider how much the thief has changed and how much he has changed them. A fairly standard use of hurt/comfort to force emotional introspection and touchy-feely confessions, but still a good read. One-shot.

In My Nature - A collection of stories fleshing out my ideas for the mysterious origins of Ezekiel Jones. Not based on any spoilers just my imagination. Drama/Angst. A series of stand-alone one-shots that each tell of a different origin for the resident thief. Some of these are very creative and I really appreciate the diversity of examples and the move away from the tropic “tragic past” that so many of these characters invariably end up with. WIP, a series of one-shots with no unresolved story arcs.

The Boy and his Gargoyle - Jacob notices how Ezekiel feels about Stumpy’s demise and recruits Cassandra to do something about it. Because someone needed to write this. Family/Fantasy. Poor Stumpy was honestly a really cute edition to the show and I really enjoyed seeing Ezekiel care about a magical item so much. The story is definitely s Stumpy fix-it that serves to showcase the friendship of Ezekiel, Cassandra, and Stone. One-shot.

The Feeling is Mutual - Ezekiel shut his eyes as the pressure and pain in his head began to ebb away. Ezekiel had to admit, he was a little disappointed. When his mind had first hatched the haphazard idea, a large part of him had been hoping he’d lose those memories. But, he supposed, nothing ever worked out like that. Just his luck. Hurt/Comfort/Family. In the process of defeating a magical creature, Ezekiel reveals to his team that he still remembers the events of the video game loop. In turn, his team helps him deal with his memories. One-shot.

Ezekiel, Stone Friendship

And the Returned Favor - Ezekiel sneezed. This, in and of itself, probably wouldn’t have been very dramatic. At least, not for normal people. Ezekiel Jones was not normal people. He did nothing by half measures; if he couldn’t do something right, then he wasn’t going to make a point to do it at all.  Hurt/Comfort/Drama. Ezekiel gets sick, and then nearly kills himself fighting off an intruder in the library. Or, the time everyone finally realized that the resident thief was a self-sacrificing bitch. A good story with a really weird paragraph structure. Seriously, it seems the majority of this story is one sentence paragraphs. One-shot.

Hero Material - “What do you mean the amulet could kill me!” Ezekiel is not having a good day. Hurt/Comfort. Ezekiel nearly sacrifices himself trying to save his friends and he is not happy about it the entire way through. Poor Stone has to try and couch him through the ordeal without losing his friend. One-shot.

Of Oubliettes and Other Obstacles - Broken bones, a concussion, and a hole in the ground. Yeah, no, this assignment was completely awful. Or: Jake and Ezekiel tumble into an oubliette and have to keep each other alive until help comes. Shouldn’t be a problem, right? Lots of whump and hurt/comfort abound! Hurt/Comfort. Pretty much what is says on the tin, Jake tries his best to keep everyone alive and the situation as under control as he can manage. Purely hurt/comfort and friendship for a rainy day. One-shot.

Remind You of Someone You’ve Never Met - Ezekiel’s been doing well, all things considered, with the aftermath of the time-loop. Honestly, a bad day was bound to happen. Just his luck it was in the middle of a case. Drama. Ezekiel has a flash back and Jake coaches him through it. This story highlights Ezekiel confronting his memories and making small-steps towards acknowledging that they are issues and that he isn’t alone. I really appreciated that this story didn’t set out to fix everything and simply dealt with that first foot forward. Two-shot.

Running Hot - Jake and Ezekiel get a new understanding of one another. Of course, it’s brought on by intense fevers and a shower. Not a pairing but if you squint I suppose.  Hurt/Comfort/Friendship. An illness helps to expose Ezekiel’s backstory and his vulnerability causes Stone to reconsider some of his opinions regarding the other librarian. Not a bad use of hurt/comfort, even if it is a fairly standard use. One-shot.

Jake/Ezekiel

And the Behavioral Side Effects of Lycanthropy - After being cured of temporary lycanthropy, Ezekiel has some lasting behavioral side effects. The compulsion to chase balls, the compulsion to chase cars, being on edge for no reason. Oh, and not being able to sleep alone anymore. But Jake’s got a fix for that. In a friend way. Just a bro helping a bro. Fluff. This is solidly pre-slash, but the boys are adorable, confused, and just trying to figure out cuddling in the aftermath of Ezekiel’s near transformation. I appreciate the little touches of Ezekiel having to remind himself he’s human and not a wolf. And Jake’s ‘no-homo’ attitude even though it is very much homo is hilarious. One-shot.

While the Bars of Sunset Hold - Sure, he might still be able to be Ezekiel Jones: World Class Thief, but what if he was no longer good enough to be Ezekiel Jones: Librarian? Hurt/Comfort. Ezekiel is tortured and is left wondering whether or not he can continue to be a Librarian in his current state. Jake clears up any confusion and shares a heartfelt moment with the “World Class Thief.“ One-shot.

Jake/Ezekiel/Cassandra

And the Proximity Addiction - When they start dating, Ezekiel isn’t a fan of touching. That changes, and boy, when it does, it changes. Romance. A fluffy one-shot concerning Ezekiel’s proclivity for cuddling and how his partners view it. Told through a conversation between Eve and Cassandra over milkshakes. One-shot.

Charged - With the tilt of a head the evening star, Venus, came into view. She looked down at the three tangled hearts on earth with her bright shine and pride. Or: Sunsets and Subtext. Romance. A slice of life short story about the relationship between Jake, Ezekiel, and Cassandra as seen through an evening of joy. One-shot.

Getting Warmer - Ezekiel Jones doesn’t lose to the cold. But Jake and Cassandra might just lose him to it. Hurt/Comfort/Angst. During a mission, Ezekiel nearly dies from hypothermia. Jake and Cassandra are forced to think over his stupidly self-sacrificing ways and what they would do without their friend. Eve just wonders when they will all stop being so blind and just get together already. One-shot.

The Best Kind of Medicine - Ezekiel has a cold and the other Librarians come to the rescue. Fluff. Seriously just reccing this story for these lovable tree idiots and the their sleepovers/snuggles. One-shot.

Tread Lightly - “Everyone wants a taste,” He tells them, laughing it off as if he couldn’t care either way. “But nobody really wants the bill.” Romance/Angst. Jake and Cassandra want to bring Ezekiel into the fold of their relationship, Ezekiel is unsure how to move forward. A tender and in character story of how Ezekiel is brought into Jake and Cassandra’s romance. One-shot.

We’ll Catch You While We Can - Each of them have different relationships with personal space. Fitting them all together is a little weird, a little rocky. But they figure it out, in the end. Fluff/Angst/Hurt/Comfort. A look into the librarians’ past, emotions, and developing relationship through the lens of physical touch. This was honestly a very clever framing device that allows for the reader to engage with both the characters and the unfolding relationship on a similar theme. It’s cute and heartwarming and angsty in all the right places. Three-shot, complete.