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amysteryspot · 2 years ago

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Borrowed Time | Seven

Summary: The lines between Bradley's and Crystal's friendship start to get blurry.

Warnings: mentiongs of major characther death (canon - both Iceman and Goose), grief, mentions of near death experiences (canon), military inaccuracies, alcohol consumption, little bit of fluff.

Word Count: 1.8k

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST | Next Chapter ►

It took them two days to go back to the base. Crystal was already home, helping her mother with all the paperwork that had to be done now that her father was gone.

She was in the middle of reading one of them when her phone went off. A text from an unknown number.

6 pm tomorrow?

Crystal smiled, it could only be one person.

“Who is it?” Her mother asked.

“Rooster.” She answered.

“Bradley?”

“Yes.” Crystal answered, typing an answer.

“You too are getting close again?” Sarah asked, leaning into her elbows expectantly.

Crystal looked up, recognizing the look on her mother’s face. “Don’t you get any ideas. He’s just been a good… friend.”

“Didn’t say anything.” Sarah defended herself, but there was a playful smile on her lips.

“Yeah, but you thought.” Crystal huffed.

“Is it so bad that he makes you smile?”

Sighing, Crystal looked down in shame. “It is when it’s just a week away from dad’s passing.”

Sarah nodded in understanding.

“He wouldn’t want you moping around, sweetie. Your father would be happy because you’re happy.”

Crystal swallowed the lump in her throat, unable to hold back the tears anymore.

“Oh, my love.” Her mother stood up, standing beside her so Crystal could lean on her, hugging her middle while Sarah threaded her fingers through Crystal’s hair. “He knew you loved him. That’s what matters.”

Crystal was a little weary entering the Hard Deck the next day. There were some officers from the base there already that greeted her as she passed them. Looking around she found Bradley chilling around the pool table. He was talking to Phoenix and Bob, a bottle of beer in his hand and a smile on his lips. The Hawaiian shirt caught her attention bringing a smile to her lips. When he saw her he lit up, quickly stood on his feet and made his way towards her.

“I was unsure if you would show up or not.”

“Me too.” She confesses, hands in her back pockets, unsure of how to behave. “Here.” Crystal says, extending the jacket he landed her the night before the mission.

He took it from her, fingers brushing against hers. They stayed there in a bubble, just looking at each other for a moment until someone bumped into Bradley and got’em out of their daze.

“Let’s get you something to drink.” He said, lightly placing a hand on her back to guide her to the counter.

“Penny, could you hand me another beer and…” Bradley looked at her in question.

“Make that two.” She said, smiling at Penny.

“That’s Crystal.” Bradley supplies.

“I know.” Penny said, smiling back. “How are you doing, dear?”

“Better than yesterday,” Crystal answered, a hint of sadness in her voice.

“That’s good,” Penny answered, handing them their drinks.

“Are you really doing better?” Bradley asked her, concern evident in his voice.

“I’m never sure if I am or not. Sometimes I just forget it happened and expect to find him at home when I arrive back. Sometimes it’s just hard to go back to normal life knowing he’s not here anymore.”

“From the little I knew of Iceman, he would want you to live your life the best you could.”

“Yeah, my mom said the same,” she said. “That’s why I’m here.”

“I’m glad you came.” He confesses.

“You did owe me a beer.”

Bradley smiled at that.

“How are you enjoying the winner’s victory?” Crystal asks.

“Cyclone gave us a couple of days off, but then we are getting reassigned.”

“No rest for the wicked.”

“Never.” He smiled.

Silence fell between them and, unconsciously, Crystal started to pick at her nails.

“Want to get some air?” He asked as soon as he noticed what she was doing.

Crystal nodded. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Being between so many people was starting to make her nervous.

“I’ll just let Phoenix and Bob know I’m leaving.” He said, waiting for her to nod to wander off to his friends. Phoenix raised her glass to acknowledge Crystal that did the same. Bob nodded at her before Bradley came back.

“Let’s go then.”

They ended up at the same spot they met before the mission, sitting side by side in the sand.

“Do you regret not going?” He asked her after a few minutes.

“No,” she says without a hint of doubt. “I would’ve been overthinking too much to be able to function as I was supposed to.”

“Then you don’t agree with what I did.”

Crystal sighs. “If I think strictly rationally, no. You should have followed your orders and come back to base. I’m sure Cyclone would send a search party for Mav once the coast was clear.”

“It wouldn’t have been enough.”

“I know, and that’s why I’m grateful that you ignored your orders and came back for him,” she says. “Don’t know if I could take the blow of losing Mav so close to having lost dad.”

“I just couldn’t leave him there.” Bradley confided.

Crystal looks at him, he’s scrunching his nose, deep in thought. She knows he is considering all his history with their godfather. How close they were before Maverick pulled his papers, how they barely knew each other now. It was a heavy burden to carry alone.

“Would you?” He suddenly asks, getting Crystal off guard.

“You want the truth?”

Bradley nods. “Yes.”

“I don’t know.” She confides in him. “And that’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to go. A part of me would’ve wanted to do what you did, but the other would know it was a risk that could not pay off.”

“You’re really your father’s daughter and I say that as a compliment.” He smiled at her, making her smile too.

“Yeah, I hear that from time to time.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, just sitting there beside each other, ignoring the world around them.

“You want another?” He asked, after some time, pointing at her empty bottle.

She looked at the bottle and thought for just a second before saying “Yeah, yeah, that would be nice.”

He took it from her and got up.

“Want me to go with you?” She asks.

“No, I got it. Be right back.”

Crystal watches him go away but is quickly distracted by the sounds of the ocean. For a solid moment, she just sits there and exists without all of the weight that has been put onto her shoulders.

“Here you go,” Bradley says, sitting down beside her and handing her the bottle. “I’m sorry, I didn't want to startle you.”

“It’s okay.” She smiles, taking it from him. “Just got distracted.”

“By the ocean?” He asks, looking ahead of them, to the wild waves.

“Yes. I’ve always been drawn to the ocean.”

Bradley hums in acknowledgement. “Never liked it that much.”

Crystal turns her head to stare at him.

“Can I ask you why?”

He takes a sip of his beer and then a deep breath before answering. “My dad.”

She simply nods. Her father had told her the story about Nick Bradshaw’s death. He, much like Maverick, felt responsible for Goose’s death in some stent.

“It’s strange, I know.” He laughs. “I don’t exactly fear the ocean, it just makes me anxious.”

“Then why be in the Navy, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t know. I just had this need to fly, since I was little. My mom never liked it much, but it was all I ever wanted.”

Crystal kept to herself the fact that his mother feared so much the possibility of him becoming a pilot that she asked Maverick to pull his papers from the Academy.

“You could’ve gone to the Air Force.”

Bradley frowned, making her laugh.

“Okay, okay. My bad. Mav would never let you do it.”

His smile faded and she immediately regretted her words.

“I’m sorry, Bradley.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like it is your fault.”

“Still, I feel bad about what happened to you two.”

“It’s in the past.” Bradley sighs.

Crystal frowns in question. “Is it?”

He avoids her gaze, sipping at his drink again.

“If you two don’t talk about it there’s no way to get over it.”

“I know, I know. I just… Like having him back in my life.”

“And you can still have him back in your life. Just talk it out.”

Bradley looks at her then and smiles.

“Now I know why they call you Icebreaker.”

She laughs. “It’s the new improved version.”

“Not your first callsign?” He asks.

“No.”

“May I ask you what it was?”

“Snow.” She answers. “Not many people know that.”

“Snow.” He repeats and it sounds so intimate, like a secret, that it caught her off guard. “Another?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Do you want a ride?” He promptly offered, helping her stand up.

“I don’t want to impose. Your friends are still at the bar, you can go back to them.”

“You’re not imposing, I’m offering,” Bradley reassured her.

“Okay.” Crystal agreed, walking with him to his car, and, like the day of her father’s funeral, Bradley opened the door for her, helping her up and into the truck.

The drive was silent, except for the background music and the sounds of the city. Crystal was still at odds about how easy it was to be around him, even in silence.

“We’re here.” He said after parking in front of her house.

Crystal sighed. “Is it bad that I don’t want to go?”

“No. No, it isn't.” He said, looking at her, his hands still on the steering wheel. “I don’t want you to go as well.”

“You’re making this very difficult, Bradshaw.”

“Difficulty is good sometimes.” He smiled at her.

“I’m a woman, I have enough of it, already.” She joked, even though it was the truth. He laughed and Crystal was sure she was screwed. “I really gotta go.”

Bradley was quick to get out of the car, running to her side and opening the door for her. She took the hand he offered, noticing how warm it was. They stood next to each other and, without second guessing, Crystal stood on her tiptoes, kissing Bradley’s cheek.

“Goodnight, Bradley.”

“Goodnight, Crystal.” He smiled at her.

She didn’t look back until she reached the door, and then she found him still standing on her sidewalk, hands in his pockets, watching her.

The next day when she arrives in her office to get back to work, there’s a small blue box sitting on her desk. Crystal frowns, confused as she picks it up and opens it. Inside there’s a necklace with a small pendant of a snowflake. She can’t control the smile that appears on her lips as she makes her way to the front desk to confirm her suspicions.

“Ivone, who left this at my desk?” She showed the box to the secretary.

“Oh, it was Lieutenant Bradshaw, ma’am.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Crystal walked back to her office, leaning back into her chair, studying the delicate piece inside the box. Bradley wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST | Next Chapter ►

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #mbradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun: maverick imagine #mystery writings #amysteryspot

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anothermeforcompany · 2 months ago

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ADHD Boost

It's just a bunch of mind scramble

It's 20:10 PM and here is my share of thought

First, I was repressed my whole childhood and now I don't know what to do with my freedom

Second, I have burnout and I was kinda snarky with my mom this morning since I don't have any motivation this semester to do any of my homework.

Third, I'm annoyed with my dad for breaking my diet to tell me to eat my medicine because he's the one telling me to SLIM DOWN. I DID SLIM DOWN WITH MY FASTING BUT YOU BROKE IT !!!!

Fourth, I'm disappointed in myself for unable to control my workload. It was simpler when I was younger, but kid me don't have to think about taxes.

Fifth, I hope my mom would forgive me, the money was a token.

Sixth, It hurts to fast, my stomach is begging for food and my mind is constantly filled with food I wanted.

Seventh, I am trying to love but it's hard when my heart is filled with so much rage. I don't want to rage, it would destroy everything.

A geinue advice for someone who is feeling down from someone who is burnout and have done some bad shit to spark some fire in my soul so I can continue living, is that just see anything beautiful A flower A picture A game Like take myself for four days ago, I just failed a job test. Seven days ago, my dad once again reminds me to slim down because when he drive me with motorbike he feels I was too heavy, not mentioning that I drove most of the way. It hurts that when I finally can relax and eat, I'm always shadowed by my accomplishment and image. It puts a downer on my mood and for several days I can't even care to shower. I still shower, but at the end of the day instead of before work. I pray to my God to help me accept my failures because I've been crying because of it. Today I just scrolled through my youtube shorts and come across the recent ghostface opening in mortal kombat and holy fuck it was so cool ! There's two ghostfaces and it fits the lore !! If I could climb into my phone and kiss those babyboos I would, on my god ! See ? Those lift up my mood right away, not all the time, but it was enough to remind me that hey ! there's something good to look forward to

#adhd things #adhd problems #neurodivergence #mortal kombat #how to cope

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yeonchi · 2 years ago

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Sea Princesses Australian Airdates

Last year, for the "15th anniversary" of Sea Princesses (according to Amazon), I did a post about the premiere dates of the series and stated that the actual anniversary was on 8 September and not 31 May. Although I didn't bother to pinpoint the actual airdates back then, I just felt like doing it a few days ago, so I spent about 3 hours downloading the advance guides from TV Tonight and pinpointing what dates each episode were first broadcast on Channel Seven and ABC. The list is hosted in my cloud drive folder and I'm going to break my research down in this post.

Seven Network

Season 1: 8 September 2007 - 14 June 2008

First block (Episodes 1-24): 8 September - 27 October 2007

Christmas block (Episodes 25-36): 24 December 2007 - 1 January 2008 (but could extend to 13 January)

Second block (Episodes 29-36 repeat, Episodes 37-52 first run): 29 March - 14 June 2008

Season 2: 12 September 2009 - 11 December 2010

First block (Episodes 1-24): 12 September - 5 December 2009

New Year block (episodes 25-28): 2 January 2010

Second block (episodes 29-52): 14 August 2010 - 11 December 2010

ABC

Season 1: 12 August - 22 October 2009 (ABC1)

Season 2: 9 December 2013 - 19 February 2014 (ABC3) (breaks on 24/25 December 2013 and 14 February 2014)

Commentary - Seven Network

As I've stated before, each episode is produced individually before Seven paired them for broadcast in a half hour block with ads, so there would normally be two episodes in one airing. Throughout September 2007 and then again in December 2009 and January 2010, two blocks would air back-to-back so you got four episodes in an hour. Episodes were usually broadcast on Saturdays at either 10:30 AM or 11:00 AM, though episodes in the Christmas block would air from 9:00 AM.

The episodes of each season are split up into two (main) blocks of 24 episodes airing over 12 blocks. Given what I said about the series (the first season, anyway) still being in production when it first aired, this is understandable. Even so, this only accounts for 48 episodes, leaving four more episodes to make 52. As such, Seven aired the remaining middle episodes during the Christmas/New Year period after having the first run from September onwards.

Because some of the advance guides from 2007 and 2008 were unavailable due to them being hosted on MediaFire rather than on the TV Tonight site itself, I'm unable to confirm things like what was broadcast in November and December 2007 or when episodes 33 to 36 of Season 1 first aired. Since the first few airings in April 2008 were repeats and there was no indication of any further airings from 13 January until then, my estimate is that they aired on New Year's Eve 2007 and New Year's Day 2008, though as I said, they could have aired at any point up to 13 January.

Season 2's airings were easier to glean through. The first block had a two-week break for horseracing events, but when we get to the second block, things get a bit strange. The schedule I found for 21 August 2010, which should have been the original airing for episodes 31 and 32 of Season 2, didn't have anything in it. This was because that day was the day of the 2010 Australian Federal Election, though what was aired instead was unknown because the TV networks usually don't begin airing election coverage until after 6 PM when the polls have closed and the counting is in progress. Those episodes would instead be aired on 20 November 2010 as there was nothing in the entry for that day to note that it was a rerun. Luckily there wasn't anything in those two episodes that contradicted anything in previous episodes (plot-wise).

There was another break in the second block on 25 September 2010 for coverage of the AFL Grand Final, then there was a break in the first half of November for horseracing and V8 Supercars coverage. Following this, there was another break on 4 December 2010 because Seven wanted to broadcast some Disney cartoons before going to V8 Supercars coverage, but the final episodes of Season 2's second block were broadcast on 11 December 2010.

The series would continue airing reruns on Seven throughout 2011 and 2012 (with the last airing being on 29 December) before it was replayed on its digital multichannel, 7TWO, for some weeks at 7:00 AM. The last known airing on 7TWO, and the Seven Network as a whole, was on 17 January 2014.

Commentary - ABC

In contract to the Seven Network, the ABC broadcast episodes individually and without ad breaks due to them being a public broadcaster. The first season was broadcast at 7:00 AM on weekdays during the ABC Kids block, but the second broadcast was broadcast on ABC3 at 3:55 PM as all the kids programming had been moved out of ABC1 by 2011.

With this, I have to concede that the IMDb dates (and thus the original dates on the Sea Princesses Wiki before I changed them to the Amazon dates) were correct, but they were still incorrect because they weren't the actual first run dates of the series in Australia, only on the ABC. For the second season however, they were a little bit inaccurate.

IMDb has the first two episodes of Season 2 airing on 5 and 6 December 2013 before continuously airing until 14 February 2014, but the TV Tonight advance guides have airings and breaks on the listed dates above. With this, Beauty and The Last One are seemingly left out of the first airing. Whether those episodes would air again later I don't know and I don't care to know, but if the ABC aired episodes on Christmas Eve 2013 and Valentine's Day 2014, then they could have fit in the two episodes while also maintaining the block they had.

The last episode that Sea Princesses would broadcast was The Secret Admirer on 18 September 2016, the day before ABC3 rebranded itself to ABC Me. There were no further airings thereafter.

I've stated before that all programs are apparently subject to licence restrictions that specify how many times a program can be broadcast during a set period before new rights need to be acquired. From the above, we can see that Sea Princesses lasted for seven years on both the Seven Network and the ABC with an overlap in between, but even if the thought of recording the episodes never came to me at the time, it's good that we got ten years out of the series before eventually being preserved online, compared to Brazil and/or Latin America who only managed to get five years out of it.

I might put the extrapolated airdates on the wiki someday alongside the Amazon airdates, but I've got better things to do for the time being.

#sea princesses #princesas do mar #princesas del mar #el reino de acuatica

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kusaka6e · 2 years ago

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TUTOR

five | six | seven

chapter list

———

"he said what?!"

"not so loud mikey, jesus."

your professor for your morning lecture had cancelled that morning, so you were in mikey and draken's dorm with the two boys.

you had texted baji to wish him luck this morning, but his lack of a response led you to believe he was in the midst of the exam.

"i can't say i'm surprised. i've always thought baji would have a crush on (y/n) if they met."

"what the hell? since when are you a matchmaker draken?"

“it took you like 4 years to finally admit you like emma!" mikey chimed in, making draken chuck a pillow at him.

"well, if he does pull off a good grade on his exam, are you gonna keep up your end of the deal?"

"i mean, a deal is a deal."

baji sighed nervously, bouncing his knee up and down as he looked over the answers to his exam. after a final once-over, he clicked submit, holding his breath at the loading screen.

"seriously?!" he groaned, seeing 'score not available.' of course he had to wait who knows how long to see what his grade would be.

he sighed as he put his computer and notebook into his backpack, trudging to his next class. he fought the urge to text you, praying to get a result in before then.

he grins at a notification from you, glad he wasn't the only one who wanted to reach out.

(y/n) :)

today, 12:20 pm

i mean i knew yo ass was gonna take forever w that exam but

did u fall in ??

LMAO i hate u

haven't gotten the skor yet

if u want me to take u on a date so bad u can just tell me

huh ?!

*score

why else would u go out of ur way to ask me wat my skor was

your spelling makes me want to vomit

SCORE

anser me !!

oh my god

go win a spelling bee first

he grins, slipping his phone into his pocket as his next class begins.

about halfway through his last class of the day, his phone pings with a grade book notification, making him inhale sharply.

you hear a banging on your door as you dry your hair from your shower, making you roll your eyes.

"no mikey, i'm not buying you more dorayak- baji?!"

"hi." he smiles nervously, realizing how impulsively he had come to your dorm after his last class of the day.

"w-what's up, are you okay?"

"my test got graded, i uh, i wanted to see the grade with you." he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with you.

"come in, come in." you wave him inside, grabbing your glasses from your nightstand.

he's slightly flustered at the sight of you in a sports bra and sweatpants, face and hair fresh from the shower.

"well, let's see it!" you sit on your bed, gesturing for him to sit with you to see the grade. he gulps as he opens the grade book app, the loading screen moving painfully slow.

'80.5/100'

his jaw is slack, not believing the numbers in front of him.

"holy fuck."

"looks like you pulled it off, einstein." you nudge his arm, unable to wipe a proud smile from your face.

"thank you, (y/n)." the genuine expression on his face is so odd to you, you're momentarily at a loss for words.

"i-it's no big deal, real-"

"and now, you've gotta hold up your end of the bargain!" he flashes his sharp teeth in a sly grin, making you roll your eyes.

"i am a woman of my word. so you tell me when and where to show up, and i'll be there." you smirk

his eyes widen, realizing taking you on a date meant he had to, you know, plan a date.

"o-okay."

shit

what am i gonna do now?

"congrats man!" chifuyu grinned as baji recounted the day, ending with him earning a date from you.

"yea, but there's a problem."

"how could there possibly be a problem?"

"what the hell am i gonna do for a date?"

"ask mitsuya. or takemichi, they're good with that corny shit."

"i don't want it to be corny, i want her to actually enjoy it." baji groans.

"well, what does she like?"

"she's likes..." he trails off, realizing you two had never really spoke about anything other than chemistry. obviously you had gotten more comfortable joking with him, and he had learned that haru was not your boyfriend, rather your brother, after cornering and interrogating mikey, but that was it. he didn't even know what you were majoring in.

"shit man, you've done like zero groundwork here."

"shut up suno! i'll think of something."

you look up from your calculus homework to see a message from baji, softly smiling as you read.

baji

today, 11:38 pm

hey

ab the date

how do u feel ab cats?

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #mikey tokyo revengers #draken tokrev #tokyo rev fluff #baji fanfic #baji fic #baji x reader #baji fluff #baji #keisuke baji #baji keisuke

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tpwkjerii · 4 years ago

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strawberry kisses

you and felix have a longstanding tradition of baking the day after finals. usually, it’s the best method of relaxing after long hours of studying. unfortunately, you find yourself rather tense this time — after all, it’s always fun to spend an entire day in a cramped kitchen with your crush, isn’t it?

pairing: lee felix x reader

warnings: fluff and kissing, mild angst, reader likes strawberries (sorry if you’re allergic skdlsd), ex boyfriend (but supportive bestie) minho, reader has low self confidence :(, like two curse words, kisses!!

genre: friends to lovers au, kinda idiots to lovers, mutual pining

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: short fic for Felix hehe

Your eyes glazed over as you reviewed the last response of your final exam of the term. After two long hours of plugging equations you hardly understood into your nearly-dead calculator and speed-writing to the point where you’re sure you’ve bruised your dominant hand, you finally finished. At lightning speed, you gathered your exam papers and submitted them at the front with a quick prayer to the universe.

A few other students followed your rushed pace out of the large lecture hall, all of you eager to finally get out of the stuffy room.

As you stepped out of the packed hall and into the cooling outdoors, you checked your phone, which was filled with texts from the one person you were trying desperately to get out of your head (and miserably failing at that).

felix (strawberry head) <3

5:23 PM

did you finish your chem final ???

hyunjin and i just submitted our video for our dance performance

your editing was very good btw :D

5:35 PM

y/nnnnn you’re taking forever :(

we’re waiting at the quad for you !!

5:40 PM

*i am waiting at the quad for you

the others got too hungry and left, but i’m waiting for you!

pls hurry it’s cold :[

You bit back a laugh at his texts, his heartwarming tone filling you with a familiar fuzzy feeling. You pushed the feeling aside as you texted a reply.

y/n

5:43 PM

be there in 2 :D

You stifled a smile as you rushed towards the quad. Soon enough, you saw Felix and his bright, red-dyed hair (you first noted that it closely resembled a strawberry). The moment your eyes met his, you felt your heart skip a beat and heat spread across your face. This was the common reaction you’ve had for the past few months whenever you see Felix.

He rushed over to you with a giddy smile and his arms outstretched. Quickly, he barrelled into you and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“You took so long,” he whined, his chest vibrating as he spoke.

“I know, I know. ‘M sorry,” you responded, your voice slightly muffled by his shirt. You took a second to enjoy his hold and the comforting warmth that Felix always provided you whenever he was near. Over the past few years, you’ve grown accustomed to the scent of his sweet floral perfume, the feeling of his tight hugs, and the way he played with your fingers when he was bored.

All the things you were fond of were now extreme nuisances in your life. Not because they were annoying or because you disliked Felix, but rather the complete opposite; you were completely, helplessly, and foolishly in love with him.

“You ready to go?” Felix asked suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. He brought his arms down from around you, and you looked down at the ground as you nodded, hoping that he didn’t see the intense blush that was spreading from your face to your neck.

You are so fucked for tomorrow.

After an entire night of tossing and turning in anxiety, the next day finally arrived. To say you were nervous was a massive understatement.

The minute you woke up, you began to anxiously clean your apartment while your roommate Ryujin laughed at you. As you wiped down every visible crevice, she made sure to pester you about a “missed spot” or tempt you with sweets.

“You’ve never cleaned this much whenever Felix came over before,” she pointed out with a laugh while you wiped down the kitchen counters for the fourth time.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice uncharacteristically high-pitched.

Ryujin scoffed. “It is so obvious that you like Felix, there’s no point in lying to me,” she stated bluntly.

Your hand froze mid-wipe on the counter. You looked over at your blue-haired roommate nervously. “Is it really… that obvious?”

“Yes,” she deadpanned.

You winced and dropped your head onto the smooth stone countertop. “Do you think he’s noticed?” you moaned into your arms.

“If he hasn’t, I will personally pay for his glasses prescription.”

You whined again as you lifted your head up to look directly at Ryujin. “If he’s noticed then why hasn’t he said anything?”

She stood up as she answered, “Not sure but you could always ask him today.”

Your mouth dropped in horror at the suggestion. “I can’t tell him how I feel! That would completely ruin our friendship!”

“So you’d rather continue tip-toeing around him and never get a clear answer?” she questioned, her arms crossed.

“Yes.”

Ryujin sighed and started to collect her things. “You can do whatever you want,” she started as she placed her papers in her backpack, “but I recommend you tell him soon.” She stood up and headed for the door. Just before opening it and leaving you alone with your thoughts until Felix arrived, she turned around and said, “I won’t be home until late, have fun.” With that, she winked and walked out of your shared apartment.

You scoffed at her suggestive tone and stood upright to check the time.

10:08 AM

You gasped. Felix said he was going to arrive at 10:30, but knowing him he would be at least 15 minutes early, meaning you only had 7 minutes to get yourself together!

You cursed and rushed to your bedroom. Switching out of your wrinkled pajamas, you opted for a random hoodie you grabbed out of your closet and jeans. After you changed, you made a beeline for the bathroom and fixed your appearance. You quickly brushed through your hair and washed your face, hoping you removed all remnants of your restless sleep.

Just as you predicted, you heard four distinctive knocks on your front door right at 10:15.

“Coming!” you exclaimed as you rushed out of your bathroom.

Right before you opened the front door, you placed a hand on your beating heart and mumbled words of encouragement to yourself. Then, after deciding that you were probably taking too long, you pulled the door open.

Immediately, Felix, covered in a large hoodie and arms filled with large bags of baking ingredients, greeted you with a large grin. Like every other time, you felt your heart skip a beat when you made eye contact with him.

“Hi,” you said simply, a smile on your face.

“Hi,” he responded. He looked you up and down, asking, “Are you wearing my hoodie?”

You paled and looked down at the large pink hoodie, immediately recognizing it as the one that Felix lent you almost one year ago when he dropped you off at the airport since you forgot yours in the car. Once you got back from your trip, you’d forgotten to give it back to him.

“O-oh,” you stuttered, looking down at the oversized sleeves. “I didn’t even realize,” you continued awkwardly. “You can ha -”

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, the smile never leaving his face. He shrugged. “You look better in it anyways.”

Your mouth dropped and you found yourself unable to respond for a few moments. Felix laughed at your dumbfoundedness and gently pushed you aside to walk into the apartment. Once he set the bags down on the kitchen counters, you returned to your senses and closed the door to walk over to him.

“So, what are we making today?” you asked, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. It wasn’t an easy task to do, considering his proximity to you.

You held your breath as he grabbed your hands and looked into your eyes. “What’s your favorite fruit?” he asked excitedly.

“Er, strawberries?” you answered, tilting your head to the side in mild confusion.

At that, Felix let go of your hands and quickly pulled out a carton of fresh strawberries from one of the bags. You gasped in delight at the sight of the bright fruit and immediately thanked him.

“It’s no big deal,” he responded while sliding the fruits into the fridge. “I’m gonna eat most of the tarts and choco strawberries anyways,” he added with a sneaky laugh.

You scoffed. “You always say that but you always end up giving me the most.” You smirked at him while taking out the baking materials.

“I don’t give it to you,” he countered. “You steal them.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you told him with a sing-song tone. He laughed from your side, and you swore that you heard actual sparkles, as if he were a fairy, when he did.

You cleared your throat, hoping to rid your mind of distracting thoughts that could be potential problems during the next seven hours that Felix would be at your apartment. “So, master chef Felix,” you started, lowering your voice like a TV show announcer. “What are you going to do first?”

“Well, my fair announcer,” he began, holding up the silicon whisk like a microphone. “I think we should start with preparing the shortbread dough, what about you?”

“Ah, you are the chef. Lead the way,” you responded with a wide smile.

You both laughed together and actually began the baking. Like usual, Felix did most of the work while you played music and assisted from the side. You worked together seamlessly, and soon enough the shortbread cookies were done and strawberry jam cooling to the side.

While you taste-tested the jam, Felix began to whisk the melted chocolate, and you took this time to admire him. You stood at his side, allowing you to admire his side profile.

Felix was easily one of the most beautiful individuals you ever laid your eyes on. But his appearance wasn’t the only part you fell for — he was one of the few people whose inside beauty matched their outside beauty.

Felix was kind, funny, optimistic, and just about every positive adjective you could find in a dictionary. After every failed test, he was there with a cup of strawberry ice cream and a shoulder to cry on. When you landed your first job, he was there to celebrate with you even when your own family wasn’t. And when you and Minho mutually broke up, he was there to give you advice as you coped with the end of your first relationship.

How could you not fall for him?

And sometimes you had the feeling that he liked you back. The touches that would linger for just a few seconds too long, the soft smiles that Chan claimed he only ever gave to you, and his late-night texts all spurned a tiny hopeful fire in you that kept your crush alive.

No matter how many times you tried to get over him and convince yourself that your crush didn’t exist, the tiny voice in your head still spoke. “But what if he likes you back?”

Now, as Felix stood by your side with a soft smile on his face while he whisked the chocolate, that voice screamed louder than ever.

And just as you gained a sliver of courage, the same paralyzing thoughts that have held you back for the past few months returned.

Felix was out of your league in every way. He was social and easily commanded the attention of an entire room with so much as two words. His outward beauty matched his insides, and everyone on campus reached a collective agreement that if angels ever existed and walked among us — Lee Felix was certainly one of them.

And those things were only the tip of the iceberg that is Felix. He was talented, sensitive, supportive, passionate, and everything you could ever ask for and then some.

You then thought back to all the people he rejected - kindly, of course - and how you matched up to them. If Felix didn’t choose to go out with all those beautiful and talented people, what on Earth made you think you would choose you?

At this point, Felix picked up on your sudden silence and how your breaths grew heavy and uneven.

“Are you… alright?” he asked carefully, his own chest beating heavily.

You stared at him, panicked that he caught onto your apprehension. “Um…” you started, trailing off as you met his gaze.

Felix let go of the whisk and grabbed your hands. “You can say whatever you need to.”

“I uh,” you started after a few moments, internally battling yourself to gain courage as you realized that it’s now or never. “I kinda like you,” you admitted quietly, looking down at your intertwined hands anxiously. You waited for him to pull his hand away in disgust and start to kindly reject you like he did to all those other people, but it never came. After a few seconds, his hands still the entire time, you looked up at him with glassy eyes in confusion.

“What?” he finally said, his deep voice softer than ever.

You looked back down at your hands shamefully. “Do I really have to repeat it?” you asked weakly. “I like you, Felix. I have for the past few months and it’s been driving me insane because it feels like my heart’s about to stop dead whenever I see you and I can never think straight when you’re with me. Apparently, it’s been pretty obvious and I really tried my best to get over it so it wouldn’t hurt our friendship.

“Trust me, I really wanted to get over it but I couldn’t, and I know you don’t like me back so it’s ok. I can deal with it on my own and you can just leave a -”

“Y/N,” Felix said suddenly, his voice firm. You looked up, tears rolling down your face as you were sure that he was about to reject you.

“Felix please don’t interrupt me. At least let me finish what I have to say,” you pleaded softly, removing your hands from his.

“Y/N,” he repeated, his voice much gentler. He carefully wiped the tears from your face and took your hands into his again. “Can I say something before you finish?” he requested.

You choked back a sob as you nodded, certain that he was just going to let you down kindly.

“I like you too, Y/N,” he said shyly, a blush spreading across his freckled face.

Your entire body froze.

“I was too scared to admit it because I didn’t think you liked me back,” he continued, the words slowly registering in your mind. “To be honest, I thought you still liked Minho.”

You blushed at his words, thinking back to all the times you would pull Minho, your ex-boyfriend, to the side to talk about Felix these past few months. You didn’t realize how it must have looked to Felix or your other friends.

“I was also… afraid of ruining our friendship, so I’ve just kept it to myself the past two years.”

You gaped at him. “Two years?” you sputtered, causing him to laugh at the way your eyes widened comically. “That’s when we first started uni!”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I was instantly attracted to the way you fought Chan on why you should be allowed to keep the minifridge in your dorm,” he joked.

You blushed at the embarrassing memory, although it wasn’t completely regrettable as it was how you met most of your current friends — including Felix.

“I’m surprised,” you voiced simply. “I didn’t think you would ever like me back.” You breathed out, your muscles relaxing instantly.

Felix grinned again and he moved slowly to envelop you in his arms. He rested his hands on the small of your back and his head on the crook of your shoulder.

“Does this mean that I can take you out on a date?” he whispered.

“Will you promise to stop taking unflattering pictures of me and sending them to me in the middle of the night?” you asked, your head resting against his and arms around him.

He sighed. “Fine,” he answered reluctantly with a whine.

“Then sure,” you responded and pulled your head back to meet his eyes. His eyes shined from the sunlight pouring through the windows and his freckles glimmered like stars across a canvas. Felix was truly beautiful inside and out.

“You have some strawberry jam on your lip,” he said after a few silent moments where you both admired each other.

“Really?” you asked. Your hand moved from his back towards your face, but Felix caught your hand in midair and returned it to its original position.

“I’ll get it,” he murmured with a gentle smile before closing the distance between your lips.

You held your breath as he pressed his soft lips against yours. You instantly recognized the strawberry chapstick he uses and the taste of the shortbread cookies. He swiped his tongue against the corner of your lip, and the sudden sensation caused a shiver to run down your spine.

You brought your hand up to his hair and gently tugged at his dyed locks. Felix brought you closer to him and massaged your back as he deepened the kiss.

When you finally pulled away, your face was burning red and you were completely breathless. Felix was smiling giddily, his arms still around yours.

“I think there’s still some jam left,” he told you, not even giving you a second to respond before he pressed his lips against yours once again. This kiss was much more playful than the last as you giggled against each other in the kiss.

“Did you get it all?” you asked him, your voice reduced to a murmur as he continued kissing your lips.

He hummed, kissing you once and twice in between, before responding, “I don’t think so.”

You laughed against his lips. “Well, I guess you better get it all. I can’t have strawberries stuck on my lips all day.”

He laughed with you, and true to his words, he eventually did get all the strawberry jam off (an extra two hours and an uncountable amount of kisses later).

#lee felix #lee felix x reader #felix stray kids #lee felix fanfic #lee felix imagine #lee felix imagines #skz scenarios #skz #skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids felix #hyunjin #minho

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bumblebugwrites · 3 years ago

Text

chapter 6: five of wands

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x MJ!Original Character

Summary: Conflict reigns with Kat's discovery of Peter's secret identity.

Warnings: Cursing, NWH Spoilers (kinda), Setting bones

Word Count: 2.2k

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was around 9:00 pm that night when Peter had finally located the last of his belongings and finished packing his bag. Tossing the strap easily over his shoulder, he moved to pick up his backpack: a task made considerably less manageable with his still-healing hand. Finally, with all of his stuff collected, Peter turned to make his way downstairs, only to freeze at the sight of Kat in the doorway.

“Going somewhere?” she raised a single eyebrow and Peter felt his heart sink once more at the lack of her usual warmth.

“Yeah,” he breathed, defeated, “back to my apartment.”

He moved forward, aiming to slip past her, but the smaller girl stepped sideways to block his path.

“You’re leaving?” And for just a moment, Peter thought he saw genuine hurt cloud her eyes.

“I’ve put you through enough,” he explained, attempting once more to make his way out of the room, only to be stopped by a hand on his chest.

“And? You think that gives you some sort of fucked up permission slip to give up?” Her face was stern and her voice felt like a shard of glass piercing his skin.

“I am not giving up,” he insisted, but his voice still reeked of defeat.

“Yes. You are. Just like you did seven years ago. Just like you did when my-” she stopped herself, but Peter was too angry to care what it was she had to say.

“Listen, you don’t know anything about me,” he spat through gritted teeth and pushed her aside, making no effort to conceal the sound of his footsteps as he flew down the stairs and out the front door.

“Yeah, clearly I don’t. Some hero you are, endangering a random girl and then dipping when things get messy,” Kat called, trailing after him into the snow. He whipped around, ditching his bags on the ground and stalking towards her until their faces were mere inches apart.

“Messy? I lied to you so I could crash at your house-”

“So you could protect me from the danger you put me in-”

“Do you know how disgusting I feel? I was a total creep which by the way, you agreed with, and here you are begging me to stay-”

“Oh, why don’t you soak it in Parker, it’ll certainly be the last time a girl begs for you. You know I don’t even know why I bothered at all, obviously, Mr. Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man can’t bear feeling a little bit uncomfortable-”

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” Peter rolled his eyes and a sharp chuckle made its way past Kat’s lips. “I am unbelievable? You have endangered me-”

“On accident-”

“Not to mention my eighty-six-year-old grandmother, and now you’re just abandoning what you’ve started when you know full and well that Spider-man is the only thing that can keep us safe,” she continued, hands flailing about as she spoke.

“Kat-”

“And you’ve got me actually defending you, God I can’t believe this is real-”

“Katherine!” Peter reached out to grasp her shoulders only to jerk back in surprise at the pain coursing through his hand. Her demeanor changed immediately, eyes growing wide before scanning for the source of his pain. Upon catching sight of his mangled hand she let out a gasp, tentative hands reaching forward as a question left her mouth.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Nothing. I just bruised it is all,” Peter supplied, suddenly unable to meet her eyes.

His sharp intake of breath betrayed him as her hands, delicate and light, moved to check the damage.

“Peter, this is broken. We need to get you to a hospital or something-”

“No!” He quickly pulled his hand from her grasp. “No hospital. I can’t- How am I supposed to explain this without…”

“Without telling them you’re Spider-man,” Kat finished with a sigh. The two stood like that, in silence for a moment. Still inches apart, but neither remarked on the position. In fact, Peter didn’t even feel flustered at the closeness. Something in his chest felt lighter with Kat so near, even with the residual anger from moments before. It was like having her so close just felt right.

“I used to be a Girl Scout,” Kat said finally, breaking out of her trance.

“That’s cool.”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “What I mean by that is we learned to set broken bones, as part of our first aid training. I’m probably pretty rusty, might need a YouTube tutorial or two, but I don’t really see any better options.” Peter looked taken aback.

“I’m not a craft project, I don’t think you can just DIY this sort of thing.”

“Okay, so then we go to the hospit-”

“No. Look, I heal ridiculously fast. I’ll be fine,” he reassured.

“Peter, it doesn’t matter how fast you heal, if you don’t set the bones they won’t heal correctly.” He groaned in response.

“Come on Tiger, let's get you fixed up.” And though her tone was begrudging, Peter thought he glimpsed a hint of a smile as she turned away to re-enter the house.

Peter sat uncomfortably on the countertop of the downstairs bathroom as he waited patiently for Kat to return with the First Aid Kit. When she finally did, she was fully engulfed in a video tutorial on her phone, nose scrunched as she focused on each step. Peter looked at her then. Really looked at her. He watched the way her hair fell around her face. The way she stopped every so often to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. He noticed her eyes. Not just her brown irises, but the smudged eyeliner that decorated each eyelid. She was pretty he realized with a start. Beautiful even.

He tore his eyes from her face the second she looked up from her video, interesting himself with the mauve shade of the hand towel beside him.

“Alright, give me your hand,” Kat ordered.

“What, just like that? You’re not gonna wear gloves or anything?”

She stopped, as though considering the question. “Do you want me to wear gloves?”

“I mean… Maybe?” Kat rolled her eyes but dug through the box beside her for a pair of latex gloves nonetheless.

“Kay, now gimmie,” she said once more indicating his hand. Peter extended it tentatively. She took it gingerly in her own, gently pressing down, whispering quiet sorrys each time he winced.

“Looks like it's broken in three places,” she said, tone apologetic.

“Great,” Peter bit sarcastically. She raised her eyebrows at his tone before speaking again.

“I’m gonna snap the first one back now, okay?” Peter only nodded, looking away.

“One. Two. Three,” she counted and Peter opened his eyes when nothing happened, looking back at Kat with curiosity and relaxing a fraction.

“Four!” The bone snapped back into place with a vicious crack and Peter bit down to avoid screaming.

“Does that feel right?” Kat asked, concern lacing her tone.

“How to fuck am I supposed to know that Kat?” Peter demanded.

“I don’t know, they’re your bones.”

“You’re the one who watched the stupid tutorial, you tell me,” he spat, sinking back in defeat at the hurt look on her face.

“I’m sorry, it’s just fuck that hurt,” he sighed only to shoot back up when Kat snapped a second bone back into place. This time, the cry escaped his lips.

“Sorry,” she winced. “It's just you were distracted, so it seemed like a good time. Besides, only one left.”

She smiled softly up at him, and despite the nearly unmanageable pain in his hand, Peter allowed one in return.

“How about this. You tell me a story, that way you aren’t thinking about it,” Kat suggested, stroking the back of his hand gently with her thumb. Peter snorted.

“What kind of story?”

“Any story, doesn’t matter,” she shrugged.

“Aren’t you the writer?” Peter asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Screenwriter,” she corrected. “Besides, I can’t come up with a story and fix your hand at the same time.”

“I don’t know any stories,” Peter complained, his head falling back against the mirror.

“So tell me something real. Like, how did you become Spider-man?” she asked, genuine curiosity creeping into her tone.

“Radioactive spider, duh,” he answered quickly and Kat shook her head.

“That’s how you got your powers. How did you become Spider-man?” she prompted. Peter was silent for a minute, deep in thought.

“My Uncle Ben,” he started. “He was a great man. Better than I’ll ever be. There was a robbery and he tried to intervene. He was stupid-”

“He sounds brave,” Kat cut in, eyes now glued to his hand.

“Yeah, he was that too. Anyways, the last thing he ever said to me was, ‘with great power, comes great responsibility’.” It was as though something in Kat’s demeanor seemed to shift at the words and suddenly she was the Kat from before again. The defensive girl in the front yard. Angry and sad. Before Peter could utter another word, he felt the third and final bone snap back into place.

Kat moved so quickly, he barely processed her departure, ripping off her gloves before stopping, back turned in the doorway to speak once more.

“Wrap it yourself. There’s gauze in the First Aid Kit.”

And then she was gone.

Kat was asleep when Peter finally finished fixing up his hand. He paused a moment in the doorway upon catching sight of her, hair spilling into her face, glasses still on, and a hand draped across the page of her book. Moving as quietly as he could manage, Peter removed the book from her grasp, marking her page with an old receipt left crumpled on her nightstand. He crouched low, carefully untangling her glasses from her hair, pausing at the sight of her eyes and cheeks which were tinted red and swollen. She had been crying. Peter let out a shaky breath, hand still hovering above her face. He considered tucking some of those stray hairs behind her ear, but decided against it and settled for folding her glasses neatly on the nightstand and switching off the lamp.

The following morning, Peter was out the door before Kat had woken up for the day. Despite their bickering the previous night, he left a note on her nightstand promising to return soon, accidentally smudging the ink with his sleeve in his haste to exit the house.

He took his time as he walked to his destination, stopping to purchase flowers on his way. Gwen had always loved daisies, and Peter resisted the urge to shove them into his bag, carrying them by hand to preserve the easily crushed petals. He never much liked the cemetery. Still, he visited at least once a month to replace the flowers on her grave. Sometimes, he came without reason or flowers. Simply because he was lonely. Or because he missed her. Gwen. Oftentimes it was her he thought of when he sought out a reason to keep going. To keep being Spider-man. Knowing that it's what she would have wanted.

As he reached the tombstone with her name etched on it, he settled down beside the mound of earth slightly elevated from the rest of the grass.

“Hey,” Peter started softly, “been a while hasn’t it.” He chuckled in spite of himself, but it was bitter rather than joking.

“I miss you. God, fuck- I miss you a lot.” He took a deep breath before laying down beside her grave, head beside her tombstone.

“I just really wish I could talk to you right now. Everything feels so hard without you here.” Peter imagined Gwen laying beside him. Imagined she would attempt to smooth out his creased brow, claiming she was wiping his worry away. He imagined that she would ask him what was wrong. What was bothering him? She didn’t. He answered anyway.

“There’s this girl.” He started and the Gwen his head teased him for countless empty promises to never love again. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“It’s not like that though. At least I think. Whatever, it’s complicated. The thing is, I feel like I’ve done something to her. Well, Spider-man has at least. She just seems so angry at me, at the world really, but me especially, and I just don’t know what to do.”

Ask her, idiot. The voice rang out in his head and he could hear Gwen laughing at him. Just be upfront, and normal.

“Yeah, but she’s not like you. It’s not that easy,” he mumbled. Anything can be that easy Peter. Besides, how would you know, you haven’t even tried. He only groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“Not even here and you're still smarter than me. How do you do it Gwen Stacy?” he asked smiling, and a gust of wind cut through the graveyard, ruffling his hair. It encircled him briefly, before moving away, dispersing into the city.

“Almost forgot,” Peter added, sitting up and reaching for the flowers by his side.

“For you, my lady.” He presented the bouquet to the headstone with a flourish, before clearing out the old, wilting daisies from last month’s visit for the new ones. Sighing deeply, he stood, collecting his bag and the dead flowers before turning back for a final look.

“See you next month. I love you,” his voice cracked on the last words and he almost surprised himself with how fresh the pain seemed to feel in that moment. Still, he turned away, brushing a stray tear from his cheek and making his way back to Kat’s.

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #andrew garfield #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew garfield spiderman #tasm #tasm fanfiction #tasm!spiderman #tasm!#tasm!spiderman fanfiction #tasm!peter parker fanfiction

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suituuup · 4 years ago

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pieces - chapter sixteen

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rating: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

Chloe woke up sometime mid-morning. She was a bit drowsy, but memories of what had transpired earlier that day quickly sprang back to mind as soon as she tried to sit up and a blinding pain shot through her stomach.

She couldn’t feel her legs, and she had a catheter put in.

The c-section felt like a surreal out-of-body experience. Despite being awake, Chloe couldn’t seem to grasp what was actually happening. It felt like a bad dream, and her brain couldn’t grasp it as reality.

Twisting her head to her left, she caught sight of a note and winced as she grabbed it. A soft smile curved her lips, and she reached for her phone next, seeing three photos and a video from Beca.

All of Bean, along with a message dating from three minutes ago which made Chloe smile with relief.

Beca [11:04am]

Bean is doing good. The nurse told me she’s doing well with feeding. Strong like her Mama.

The day was long, as Chloe could do nothing besides laying there or pumping milk. Beca visited every couple of hours, but Chloe would rather have her keep Bean company while she couldn’t. She texted her parents and the girls to tell them Bean was born but still in the NICU, and facetimed with Aubrey. She slept some more afterward, but towards the end of the day, she started feeling anxious to meet her daughter.

“You should go home and get some rest,” she told Beca when it pushed ten pm.

Beca stifled a yawn. “I’m okay.”

Chloe gave her a pointed look. “You look exhausted, Bec. You haven’t slept in over 36 hours. I’m fine. Bean is doing good, and the nurse told me she'd keep me posted frequently throughout the night. Besides, they won’t let you stay at the NICU all night.”

Beca seemed to hesitate, eventually relenting with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll keep my phone on though, so call me if there’s anything.”

“I will.” She smiled when Beca bent down to kiss her forehead, leaning against the contact. “Night, Bec.”

Despite her anxiousness, Chloe managed to catch a handful of hours of sleep. As promised, the nurse had kept her posted on Bean’s health, and nothing alarming had popped up. Beca was back at 6 am, armed with a coffee and a bagel.

“Oh man, I love you,” Chloe mumbled, taking the coffee from her. The one from yesterday was cold by the time she woke up, and she appreciated that first sip in close to seven months.

“Are you talking to me or the coffee?” Beca teased, smirking.

“The coffee,” Chloe replied, sticking her tongue out. “Did you manage to get some sleep?”

“Yep. Seven hours.”

“Ready to go see your baby?” The nurse asked as she breezed inside Chloe’s room with a wheelchair.

Chloe beamed. “Yes, more than ready.” She sat up with a grimace and turned, letting her legs hang off the side of the bed while she waited for the discomfort to pass. Then, with Beca’s help, she shrugged on her robe and lowered herself in the wheelchair.

Her heart picked up with anticipation as she was rolled down towards the NICU. She thoroughly washed her hands, as did Beca, and Beca took over with the wheelchair pushing duties, slowing it to a stop in front of the right incubator.

Tears filled Chloe’s eyes, but she managed to blink them away so they wouldn’t blur her vision as she took in the sight of her daughter for the very first time. “Oh my goodness,” she breathed out, reaching out through the hole to touch her hand.

“Hi, Bean. I’m your Mama,” Chloe choked on that word, tears spilling down her cheeks despite her best attempt to make them go away. “Hello. You’re okay,” she soothed when the newborn scrunched up her face and kicked her legs. “Mama’s here.”

The NICU nurse standing by observed the scene with a smile. “Do you already have a name for her?”

“I do,” Chloe replied, unable to tear her gaze away. “Marleigh June Beale.” June was her grandmother’s middle name, and Chloe wanted to honor her in some way. “Aka MJ. Or Bean.”

“I feel like Bean is going to stick around,” Beca commented with a soft chuckle.

“I’m not able to hold her yet, am I?” Chloe asked the nurse as she wrote down Marleigh’s name on a small board.

The woman shook her head. “Not until she’s stable enough.”

Chloe nodded, pushing her disappointment away. While she was aching to hold her, she felt grateful enough that they were both okay after that huge scare.

“She’s so small,” Chloe repeated to Beca when the nurse left. Marleigh’s tiny fingers wrapped around her pointer one and Chloe smiled. “That’s right, Bean. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”

Except she obviously had to during the night, but she was right back as early as she could, gazing at her daughter for hours on end. The odds were looking good, with Marleigh gaining weight every day and her lungs getting a bit stronger, too. She was switched to a C-PAP ventilating machine instead of a tube down her throat on the third morning.

Chloe was discharged on her fourth morning, and once visiting hours were over at the NICU, she reluctantly left Marleigh’s bedside and drove home with Beca.

“You alright?” Beca asked as she pulled out of the parking lot.

Chloe nodded, wiping a tear away. “Yeah. It’s just-- weird to leave her behind. I know we’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning, but… it’s not the same.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Beca agreed, reaching over to hold her hand.

It had been three days, but Chloe was still extremely sore from her c-section. Simple things such as getting out of the car by herself were difficult, and she found herself in a pickle as she stood in the bathroom, unable to take her clothes off.

“Bec?” She called out over the sound of the shower running. “Can you come in here for a sec?”

Beca popped her head inside a few seconds later. “What’s up?”

“Can you lower my leggings for me?” Her nose scrunched up. “I can’t bend over.”

“Yeah, of course,” Beca said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. She slid them down and Chloe stepped out of them, then undid the last few buttons of her shirt and shrugged it off. Her incision looked pretty raw, and she was sporting a five-month bump, but that didn’t bother her. She knew it would deflate with time as her uterus went back to its normal size. “Can you um, do you mind getting in with me?” Her cheeks heated up over the request. “I can’t raise my arms at all.”

Beca smiled sympathetically. “Yeah, of course.” She stripped down to her underwear and a sports bra while Chloe stepped under the hot spray in just her underwear.

It wasn’t anything Beca hadn’t seen before, and she really needed to get her nipples rinsed off after pumping.

“Oh my god, this feels amazing,” she gushed as soon as the spray hit her sore muscles. It was her first actual shower in over three days, and Chloe felt gross. She felt the loofah against her back, rubbing in slow circles, and bit back a moan. While Beca did her back, she was able to wash her front and her face with slow, calculated movements so she didn’t strain her incision.

“Shampoo?” Beca asked.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Tilt your head back a bit if you can.”

Chloe did so, holding back another sound of satisfaction as Beca massaged her scalp, working the shampoo through her red curls. She stepped back under the spray to rinse it off, then turned the water off.

“I’ll go get you a towel,” Beca said, stepping out and reaching for a large towel under the sink. She wrapped it around Chloe’s body, then grabbed another one for herself. She wordlessly helped Chloe dry off and once in her bedroom, helped her dress once more and towel-dry her hair because it turned out being able to raise her arms was handy for a lot of things.

“How you feelin’?” Beca asked ten minutes later when Chloe padded to the kitchen.

“Better,” Chloe said as she poured herself a glass of water. She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Anxious, though. I don’t like being so far away from her. I just hope she’s okay.”

Beca nodded. “They would have called if she wasn’t.”

“I know.” Chloe cleared her throat. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you properly, but you were my rock during the c-section. I was terrified, but having you there with me and knowing you were looking out for her after… it really helped. So thank you.”

“Of course,” Beca murmured. “I’ll always look out for my favorite girls.”

Chloe smiled and stepped up for a loose hug. “I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Goodnight, Chlo.”

Chloe was greeted with great news when they reached the NICU the next morning. Marleigh was deemed stable enough to spend some time outside of the incubator, which meant Chloe would get to hold her.

“Skin-to-skin contact is very beneficial at this age, so you’re welcome to open your shirt to lay her directly on your chest,” the nurse told Chloe as she opened the incubator and fiddled a bit with the wires.

“Okay,” Chloe said, taking a seat on the chair in the corner and undoing her buttons. She gasped when the nurse gently transferred her into her arms.

Marleigh fussed for a bit while the nurse adjusted the CPAP over her head, then settled down, curling up against Chloe’s chest.

“Hello my sweet girl,” she whispered, brushing a kiss to her red hair. Her heart felt fit to burst, and happy tears stung behind her eyes as she gently rubbed her back. “I love you so much.”

“Smile for the pic, Mama Chlo,” Beca requested as she held her phone up. Chloe looked up and did so, finding it hard to keep her eyes away from Marleigh more than a few seconds at a time. “Can I send it to the group chat and your parents?”

“Yeah,” Chloe breathed out, her gaze flickering back down to Bean. She cleared her throat and started to sing softly.

“She's got a smile that it seems to me

Reminds me of childhood memories

Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky

Now and then when I see her face

She takes me away to that special place

And if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry…

Whoa, oh, oh

Sweet child o' mine.”

It took another ten days for Marleigh to be taken off the ventilator. Chloe spent every day at the NICU, holding her, singing to her, reading her stories, or simply holding her hand. Beca wasn’t there all the time, tying up loose ends at the studio so she could take four weeks off whenever Marleigh got to go home. She still made it to keep Marleigh company while Chloe headed to her NA meetings or therapy sessions because Chloe didn’t want to miss any.

Marleigh couldn’t feed on her own just yet and was struggling to regulate her temperature, those being the two milestones she needed to reach before being cleared from the NICU.

“Chlo, she doesn’t like it when I’m the one doing it,” Beca mumbled, looking slightly panicky as Marleigh fussed while she tried to change her diaper. “Or maybe she just doesn’t like me, period.”

Chloe had done it quite a few times by now, but it was Beca’s first attempt at changing a baby diaper in apparently, ever.

Chloe rolled her eyes, stifling a laugh. “She likes you. Now open the diaper.”

Beca did, grimacing as a foul smell escaped from it. “Holy shit. Dude. That’s nasty.” She folded the dirty diaper and put it away, then gently grabbed Marleigh’s kicking feet. “How can someone cute like you make something so stinky? I feel like your Mama knew that was a bad one and let Auntie Beca do the filthy job. Don’t you think?”

Chloe wasn’t sure how much more her heart could take. It seemed to swell a bit more with each interaction she witnessed, and would soon run out of room in her chest.

Wipes and a clean diaper later, Beca lifted Marleigh into her arms. “We did it, Mar!” She showed her hand to the two weeks old. “High-five? No?” Beca smirked as she sat down in the rocking chair. “You’re hard to impress, MJ.”

Over Marleight’s third week in the NICU, Chloe tried breastfeeding for the first time. It took a good minute to get her to latch on properly, but once she did, she was a real trooper.

“How does that feel?” Beca asked as she sat in the opposite chair, observing the scene before her. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s a bit weird, but it doesn’t hurt,” Chloe said as she gazed down, obsessed with the way Marleigh’s ears moved back and forth as she nursed.

“Oh, Aubrey’s here,” Beca said when her phone buzzed. “I’ll go get her.”

By this point, Beca was considered the other parent by the NICU staff, so they were allowed an additional visitor. Marleigh’s stomach was still fairly small, so Chloe was done feeding by the time Aubrey arrived.

“Hi,” Chloe greeted with a bright smile as she paced around, rubbing Marleigh’s back to get her to burp. When she did, Chloe pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Good job, Bean.” She focused back on Aubrey. “Wanna hold her?”

Aubrey’s head bobbed up and down. Chloe didn’t think she’d ever seen her best friend this excited, though she could tell Aubrey was trying to conceal it. Once she’d sat down on the chair previously occupied by Beca, Chloe gently lowered Marleigh down in her arms.

“Oh my gosh,” Aubrey gasped, cradling her in the crook of her elbow. Marleigh was much more alert now, her big blue eyes staring up at that new face. “Hello, Marleigh. I’m your Auntie Aubrey.”

Tears pricked behind Chloe’s eyes as she snapped a few pictures. She had about a thousand of Marleigh by now.

By the fourth week, Marleigh was wire-free and was moved to an open incubator. She still needed to gain more weight until they could go home, but it was only a matter of a couple of weeks at most. Chloe now got to dress her, her first official onesie being the Bella one. She snapped a photo and sent it to the group chat, then had Beca snap one of the two of them as Chloe was wearing Beca’s barden hoodie, too.

They were cleared to go home when Marleigh reached five weeks and doubled her birth weight. She still looked unbelievably small once she was strapped in her car seat, ready to set off. Chloe gifted the nursing staff with a basket full of goodies and a heartfelt note for their devotion and kindness over the six weeks Marleigh spent at the NICU.

“You got it?” Chloe asked as Beca slid the car seat into position once they reached her car.

A click was heard and Beca cast her a smirk. “I’m a pro already.”

Chloe chuckled and slid in the backseat so she was by Marleigh’s side for the ride home. They reached Beca’s place just after eleven that morning, Marleigh having fallen asleep in the car.

Their first afternoon home unfolded smoothly. It was weird and a bit scary to take care of Marleigh without having a nurse nearby, but Chloe knew it was just a question of habit.

“How’s the water?”

“Good, I think. You should check it, too,” Beca said as she turned off the faucet.

Chloe dipped her hand in, then lowered Marleigh into the baby plastic tub they had set up in the master bathroom one. Marleigh started crying as soon as her butt touched the water, her features scrunching up.

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Chloe soothed. “I’ll be quick, Bean.”

Beca started singing to distract Marleigh from crying.

“Shorty get down, good Lord

Baby, got 'em open all over town

Strictly biz, she don't play around

Cover much grounds, got game by the pound.”

Chloe stifled a laugh and bit back a comment because it was actually working, Marleigh settling down while she rubbed a cloth over her body, then gently shampooed her hair.

“I can’t believe you sang that song,” Chloe said, shaking her head as she rubbed Marleigh dry a few minutes later.

“Hey, it worked,” Beca argued softly, huffing a laugh. “My girl’s got good taste.”

After putting on a fresh diaper and a onesie, Chloe fed Marleigh, then swaddled her. The baby didn’t stir as Chloe lowered her into her crib after singing her to sleep, and she turned on her night light and the baby monitor before quietly shuffling out of the room.

First day home from the hospital? Nailed it.

#bechloe fanfic

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rogershoe · 4 years ago

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Lights, Camera, Action

Part seven

(Part six)

Summary: You’re a production assistant on the set of Cursed. The night before your first day at work, you opened your laptop to shockingly realise you’d be working with Daniel Sharman (and a plethora of other amazing actors), someone you’d been watching on screen since you were a teenager. You kept your expectations low, the PAs rarely got to interact with the talent…what was your chance?

Word count: 3.1k

Tag list: @sxperncturalimpala67 @mrsaaronkeener @tinygardensoul @disasterday @5am-cigarette @lancelotapricot @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @slytherlight @18somethingpsyche @ceruleanmusings @glxctt @cavillxhenry @lovelyapplessss @hereagainsstuff @linkpk88 @aliceperdida @weeping-redemption @magicalsaladnacho @ineedyourskulls @fandomarstrash @cheythefangirl @pure-ghost @estrielle @tessxblxckthorn @isaac-lahey-is-bae @bubblyanis @proudhufflepuff77 @dollfacev8 @everlastingdreams @thehatredofshiprrick

Warnings: age gap between reader and Daniel, swearing, slow burn, mentions of sex

Notes: So sorry if this chapter is also a bit all over the place! I’ve been very distracted with school and it’s been a bit harder to find the time to write. All that said, here’s chapter seven and I hope you guys enjoy it!! Sorry again in advance for the lack of Daniel content, but I promisee that the next will have a lot more to make up for it. Thanks for reading!

(picture by @archivesharman)

“We’re good then?” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Ofcourse….yeah….we were always good” you mumbled.

He smiled at you before turning around and walking away.

What had just happened? You didn’t know if this day was the best you had ever had or the worst.

It was probably both.

As you pulled off your headset, your heartbeat thudded in your ears. Too many thoughts rushed through your mind, some good some bad. Why was he apologising to you? Did he really think he was at fault? And had he actually heard the part where Cassandra mentions you getting nervous around him? Had he noticed your uneasy behaviour? Or was he going to start noticing?

You thought you’d hid it oh so well…that no one could tell you had a weird crush on Daniel. Was it even a crush? Or was it feelings? You barely knew him, you’d have to get over it sooner or later…or atleast you hoped you would.

One part of you wished you could be like Siara. She didn’t give a shit if they were actors. She saw them as regular human beings and nothing more. She didn’t get nervous or starstruck. From what you’d seen, those were the type of people actors felt comfortable around to like and be friends with. Not anxious fangirls like you.

You shook your head, shivering. Why did it have to be so cold?

6:06 pm

You walked into your apartment, which was not much warmer than the outside. You took off your sweater and put on a thicker one, also grabbing a warm blanket and settling on your couch. The second you turned on your tv, you saw that Netflix was recommending Medici to you. You had seen from Daniels instagram that he was starring in the second season. Maybe this was a sign that it was time to watch the first. You clicked play and leaned back into your couch, letting the show whisk you away from your own troubles.

Tuesday, January 15th, 2019

3:32 am

You jerked awake when your phone vibrated on your thigh. You were shocked when you looked down at your watch to see it was half past three. You had only gotten through one episode of Medici before falling asleep from your exhaustion. You contemplated falling asleep again but decided against it, you were starving and hadn’t had anything to eat since 12:30.

You felt oddly refreshed, and felt like going out to get something to eat. You usually weren’t the spontaneous type, especially not at 3 am…but for some reason, your body craved fast food and also the cold night air. You though it out in your head and decided that you could get drive thru and eat it in your car, and by the time you were done, it would be time for work anyways.

You got up and got ready. Freshening up and putting on your “work clothes”. You hadn’t slept for eight hours straight in a while and so didn’t even feel the need to drink your usual cup of morning coffee.

You grabbed your jacket and headed out, your keys jingling as you locked your apartment door.

The night breeze was just as you imagined. The cold crisp air felt oddly refreshing against your face, and you could almost taste the coldness when you inhaled. You had kept your car window down, weirdly craving the chillness.

After a few minutes though, you found yourself shivering and rolled up your car window, licking your lips to warm them. You thought over where to get breakfast (or dinner?), and decided that McDonalds was your best bet. You knew they’d be open and also exactly what to get.

It took you five minutes to get to your local McDonalds. You pulled into the drive thru window and ordered a McChicken, a large fries, a coke, and an Oreo mcflurry. You usually never ate a big breakfast, especially before work, but you were starving and felt like you could eat their whole menu. Actually, you were holding back.

You got the food, breathing deeply when the hot smell of salty fries wafted towards your nose. There was a 7/11 a few shops down so you went and parked in front of it. From you seat, you could clearly see the door of the 7/11, and also the inside through the windows. It was one of the few places open at this time and you loved people watching. Especially people at a store at 4 am in the morning.

You pulled out your food and took a bite, your jaw aching with pleasure. When you took a sip of the coke, you could feel the cool liquid travel down your throat and through your chest. You looked up and saw that there was a cashier inside the 7/11, a teenage boy. He was sitting on a chair, his eyes droopy.

You tore your eyes from him when you heard a car pull into a parking spot a few spaces away from you. Your eyes widened in confusion when you saw Bradley step out. You knew your next actions were stupid and immature but you still went ahead.

You quickly (but carefully) put your food down on the seat next to you, and with unnatural swiftness, pushed/jumped yourself onto the back seat, lying flat on your back so he wouldn’t see you. You hoped he hadn’t seen the car move, but you don’t think he did since a second later you saw him walk into the 7/11, unbothered. You took a deep breath looking at your watch, it was 4:12 am. Huey had texted you saying that the crew and actors both would have an early start today. You would have to be at the studio by 5:00, which was 10 minutes from the store.

The position you were in wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was definitely getting slightly hard to breath. What the fuck were you doing? You should just get up and continue eating, he probably wouldn’t see you anyways.

Before you could, you saw him coming out and froze, holding your breath. You saw him look into your car but not at you, just at the empty front seats. There was a small box in his hand but you couldn’t tell what it was. You waited for his car to pull out but after waiting for almost thirty seconds, you got increasingly confused. Suddenly the car started shaking rhythmically and your eyes widened when you realised what he was doing.

He was busy now so you quickly got up and climbed into the front seat.

Seriously? He was really having sex in a car an hour before work? It was odd but you weren’t one to judge. You actually envied his spontaneity.

You started your car and drove away.

4:50 am

You opened the door of your car and got out, locking it behind you. You felt sick from all the food you ate, especially since it was right after you woke up. After you had driven away from the 7/11, you had decided to just eat in the studio’s parking lot and wait until it was time for work. Now.

You walked towards the building, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, your keys jingling in between your fingers. It was freezing this early in the morning.

When you walked into the studio, you were surprised to see all of the PAs except Bradley and Jay standing in a group together, talking to Huey. You walked over and greeted them, standing next to Siara. Huey was looking through the papers and you took the opportunity to ask her what exactly was happening.

“What’re you guys talking about?” you whispered.

She turned to you, also speaking quietly, “Something about how we might have to travel somewhere”

“Us?” you said surprised.

She nodded. You swallowed, trying to lessen your excitement. They would probably want the more experienced PAs anyways.

Huey cleared his throat and you turned to look at him.

“Alright. Please listen carefully since I’m not going to repeat this”

Everyone nodded and he continued, “To make a long story short, we’re going to be moving filming to England in two weeks and we want all of you to come with us. It’s fine if you’re unable to, but it would be extremely convenient for the production if our crew were mostly the same”

He paused and you took a glance at Siara. Her expression was blank. You sighed looking away and at Huey, who was now speaking again.

“All expenses, plane tickets and accommodation are payed for. Along with lunch, breakfast is also included. We’ll be in England for nine months with a two week break every three months”

Distraught spread through you as you realised you would have to be in England for nine fucking months…only if you accepted.

You nodded as Huey handed a folder to each of you, “This has all of the information you’ll need…if you decide to come, sign this and give it to me before the end of this week”. He walked away, leaving you all to discuss what you were to do.

Louis spoke up first, smiling widely, “Please tell me you guys are coming, you have to come”, he sounded like an excited child.

You beamed, “I really want to…but, it’s more than half a year”, you saw a sad expression spread over his face.

“I’m going…I’ve always wanted to visit Europe” you heard Siara say.

“Come on Y/N” Louis said looking at you.

“I’ll decide when I go home and let you both know” you said smiling. You wanted to go so bad, but the thought of nine months away from home terrified you. Even if you could visit.

10:48 pm

You had just gotten out of the shower and settled into your bed after drying off. Your work day had been exciting of course, but definitely not as eventful as yesterday. You hadn’t interacted with Daniel except your usual “hey”. You had talked to Jasmine about the change in shooting and she had told you that her and Cassandra were definitely going. Although you hated Cassandra, Jasmine was one of your closest friends on set and that made the decision much easier.

You pulled out your phone and opened your’s and Louis’ chat.

Y/N Hey, good news! I’ve decided I’m gonna come. I’m gonna miss Talia, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I don’t wanna miss out at all!! I'm so excited [10:29 pm]

Louis What?? That’s great! I honest don’t know what I would’ve done without you [10:32 pm]

Y/N Hahaha We’ll def talk more about it at work tomorrow, I think I should really sleep now lmao [10:33 pm]

Louis Of course of course. Same here...gn! [10:33 pm]

Y/N Gn :) [10:34 pm]

You smiled to yourself before texting Siara as well. She usually took longer to reply so you decided not to wait and turned your phone off.

You were equally nervous, scared, and excited for the trip. You’d get to travel? To another continent? Over a whole ocean? For nine fucking months? And almost for free? You honestly couldn’t believe it. The nine months still scared you but you tried to focus on other things instead. Like the beautiful sights you’d get to see in your time off…and also the places you’d get to shoot scenes. Daniel obviously as well. You wondered for a while if he was happy to go to England too. It was his childhood home.

Friday, January 25th, 2019

5:05 pm

You licked your lips to warm them as you entered Daniel’s trailer and took a deep breath as the warmth inside enveloped you.

It had been two weeks of helping Cassandra and Jasmine and you had finally gotten the hang of it. So far, your first day had still definitely been the most eventful, with you cutting your finger and then Cassandra getting angry at you. The rest of the days had been much better in some ways. You were still very giddy around Daniel, but you had learned how to hide it.

It was also much easier since you were more confident in what you were doing. You had actual jobs, like removing his make up and getting his skin ready…things which Jasmine used to do before you. Now that you did it, it gave Cassandra and Jasmine both more time to focus on his actual make up and hair. Cassandra wasn’t much better. She hadn’t blown up on you again like she had that day, but there was a significant increase in scowls, eyebrow raises, and dissaproving looks in general. If looks could kill, you’d be dead ten times over.

“Hi Y/N” Jasmine said, as you closed the door behind you. You looked around and saw that Cassandra was absent. Thank God.

“Hey” you replied, grinning. You glanced towards Daniel, who offered you a short smile.

You got to work, pulling out a make up wipe and rubbing down his face gently. You had learned that leaving the tears for last was best. That way you could use a separate, stronger wipe on them too.

Although you had done this about ten times now, it always made your flutter to be so near him. It was also odd how accustomed you had gotten with his skin. You noticed whenever he had a new scratch, or a pimple, a tan…any small changes.

For some reason, it made you feel special to be this close to him. It almost didn’t make sense to your brain, how close you were to him everyday, yet how little you actually interacted with and knew about him.

Today you were too busy looking at his eyelashes and didn’t realise you had run your wipe directly over a small cut on his jaw. He hissed slightly, opening his eyes. Jasmine cocked her head towards you both from where she was looking through a make up drawer.

Your mouth hung open in shock as you snatched your hand away from his face. Your eyes fell to where his cut was, and you swallowed. Why did you have to be so distracted and clumsy?

“Oh no, I’m so sorry” you said nervously and rushed over to the sink, wetting the corner of a small towel.

You jogged back over to his chair, being extra gentle as you dabbed the damp corner on the cut, trying to wipe the make up wipe’s liquid away. You then dried it with the dry part of the towel.

“It’s fine really Y/N” he said laughing slightly, “It happened during filming”

Your skipped a beat when you heard him say your name. It was still surreal to you that Daniel Sharman knew you….let alone you name. You smiled slightly before setting the towel down on the counter.

“Is it still stinging?” you said gesturing to his jaw, your hands shaking.

“Oh no, not at all” he said shaking his head. You felt that he wasn’t telling the truth but you let it go. Grabbing the make up wipe, you continued wiping his make up off. It was a much smoother process, and you took the time to ease your racing heart rate.

The flight was tomorrow and you couldn’t help but feel excited every time you thought about it. Louis had informed you that Jay and Bradley had opted out of coming on the trip. You were sad about Jay’s decision, but not so much Bradley’s.

You were happy but also terrified that your work was taking you out of comfort zone. Jasmine had texted you yesterday saying that she’d pick you up so you could both go to the airport together, which made the whole ordeal a whole less nerve wracking.

You had gotten quite used to this trailer, to the studio…..and you hoped that your routine and jobs (that you had finally gotten somewhat good at), wouldn’t change the minute you got to England.

Saturday, January 26th, 2019

2:58 am

You jerked awake and checked your phone, afraid you’d overslept. Nope, there was still a whole two minutes left until your alarm. The flight was at 7:00 am and you had told Jasmine that you wanted to get there atlaeast two and a half hours before. You rather be early and wait in the airport for an hour than be late and miss the flight.

You had thankfully packed everything the night before and it only took you almost forty minutes to get yourself and your bags ready. Just a few minutes after you were done, you phone rang. It was Jasmine.

“Hey, you’re here?” you said, smiling and wheeling your suitcases closer to your apartment’s door. You phone wedged between your cheek and shoulder.

“Yes!” she said sounding excited. You were eager to go too, but you had only slept four hours and were finding it hard to get to her level of excitement.

“Great..I’ll be right down”

It was a struggle, but you managed to get both your suitcases into the elevator and onto the curb outside your apartment building where Jasmine was waiting. The cold night air hit you like a brick, and you felt energy surge through you.

Jasmine got out of her car quickly, “Oh let me help you with those”

You both loaded your suitcases into the trunk of her car. Y

You rubbed you hands together warming them, as you got into the car, you backpack at your feet. Jasmine started the car, beaming.

“You excited?” she said, driving.

“Very” you laughed, turning the heater up. You were tired, but the adrenaline from your excitement kept you wide awake.

4:56 am

It took you guys almost twenty minutes to get the airport, which wasn’t bad. You were now walking through the airport, your luggage hopefully making it’s way onto your plane. You had made it through security smoothly, and there had been no problems with your boarding pass or passport. If there had, Cassandra would’ve probably killed you both.

“What’s the gate number?” you asked Jasmine, who was holding the boarding passes.

“Uhh” she looked at them, “32B”

You nodded, just a little farther. The smell of coffee and food from the various little cafes made your stomach grumble.

You thought your adrenaline would’ve died down by now but it hadn’t. You tried to keep telling yourself that it was because you were travelling to Europe…but inside, you knew the real reason you were so excited.

#daniel sharman #daniel sharman fanfiction #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman fic #isaac lahey #daniel sharman x reader #daniel sharman x oc #daniel sharman x original character #daniel sharman one shot #daniel sharman headcanon #daniel sharman fluff #daniel sharman imagine #cursed #cursed fanfiction #cursed fic #cursed netflix #netflix #cursed x reader #daniel sharman writing

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 4 years ago

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The BNHA Group Chat Fic Nobody Asked For

Pairings: Todoroki Touya (Dabi)/Mr Compress (Sako Atsuhiro), Shimura Tenko (Shigaraki Tomura)/Chisaki Kai (Overhaul)/Kurono Hari (Chrono), Yamada Hizashi (Present Mic)/Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead)/Shirakumo Oboro (Loud Cloud), Fukukado Emi (Ms. Joke)/Kayama Nemuri (Midnight), Bakugo Katsuki/Kaminari Denki/Kirishima Eijiro, Iida Tenya/Monoma Neito/ Aoyama Yuuga

Word Count: 1,637 Words

Summary: LOV, internships, and Tenko unintentionally reveals a secret some of his classmates keep hidden from even Aizawa.

Warnings: Abduction Mention, Kidnapping Mention, Caps, Death Mention, Injury Mention, Amputation Mention, Prosthetic Mention, Cursing, Blood Mention, Teen/Underage Pregnancy Mention, Pregnancy Mention, Broken Bones Mention, Drugs Mention, Adoption Mention, Half Blind Character, Deaf Characters, Mostly Mute Character (due to a different medical issue), Selectively Mute Character, let me know if I should add anything else.

Notes: In this AU, Hisashi Shimura married Nao Shimura and Inko Midoriya had Hana with Nao then Izuku and Tenko with Inko and Nao respectively before Tenko's power went out of control and killed his parents.

Notes: Honoka (or 和花) means harmony flower. She's named after Hana Shimura. Nanami (or 七海) means seven seas. She's named after Nana Shimura. Akiyama(秋山) means autumn mountain, Sekai (世界) means world, Ayaka (彩花) means colorful flower, Akari (明り) means light/brightness.

Usernames: We Are Number One™ Aizawa: Dadzawa, Aoyama: immafiringmahlaser, Ashido: princessbubblegumknockoff, Asui: Galvan, Iida: Emergency Exit, Uraraka: 9.8, Ojiro: tailfloof, Kaminari: Pichu, Kirishima: baby shark, Koda: youredoingamazingsweetie, Sato: GuyFieriIsGod, Shoji: Cthulhu, Jirou: Jack Skellington, Sero: Spider-Man, Tokoyami: EdgarAllanCrows, Todoroki: WHERE?, Hagakure: cena, Bakugo: WHAT?, Midoriya: SmolMight, Mineta: Mineta, Shinsou: exhausted, Yaoyorozu: TheGreatCreator, Kurono: stopwatch, Chisaki: donthugmeimscared, Yukimura: choticgaydisaster, Bubaigawara: shadowclonejutsu, Shimura: idontfeelsogood, Awase: illrememberyouallintherapy, Kaibara: IDOWHATIWANT, Kamakiri: scyther, Kuroiro: itsmeyaboy, Kendo: Akimichi, Kodai: deadinside, Komori: shroomgurl, Shiozaki: wElCoMeToBiBlEsTuDiEs, Shishida: furry, Shoda: cryptid, Tsunotori: mylittlepony, Tsubaraba: airbender, Tetsutetsu: Iron Man, Tokage: t-rex costume, Fukidashi: glorifiedtextbubble, Honenuki: Eren Jaeger/spookyscaryskeletons, Bondo: Slimer, Monoma: HopeSummers, Yanagi: iLiEdImDyInGiNsIdE, Rin: snek, Toga: mystique, Sako: lostmymarbles, Hikiishi: queenofmagnetism, Iguchi: eye gucci, Shinokanri: stardust

Usernames: Emos Anonymous Kaminari: blackcloakedbrides, Shoji: fryingpan, Jirou: greentwentyfourhours, Tokoyami: myscientificinfatuation, Todoroki: twentyoneplotpoints, Bakugo: immobileinwhite, Midoriya: falldownboy, Shinsou: stabtheveil, Kurono: inhalecarolina, Chisaki: plummetingininverse, Yukimura: anxietyintheclub, Shimura: nappingwithsirens, Kuroiro: thousandfootcane, Kodai: marianaspit, Monoma: entiretimelow, Yanagi: recentyearsday, Sako: halfminutetomars, Aizawa: hollywoodlivingdead, Shouji: fryingpan, Kurono: inhalecarolina, Aoyama: phantomtown, Honenuki: visualizedragon, Sako: halfminutetomars, Awase: distressparade, Shinokanri: simplestrategy

Usernames: UA Teachers Are Tired™ Eraserhead/Aizawa: grumpy scarf cat, Present Mic/Yamada: screeching cockatiel, Midnight/Nemuri: chaotic goth gay Ingenium/Iida: gotta go fast, AllMight/Toshinori: actual sunshine, Vlad King/Kan: bloody hell, Power Loader/Majima: speechtotext, Ectoplasm: needalegup?, Snipe: kazoo cowboy, Cementoss: concrete block, Blackmist/Kurogiri: goth portals

Me? A Bitch? More Likely Than You’d Think-Chapter 8

10:03 am

We Are Number One™

Dadzawa: So, I heard someone's operating the LOV again?

idontfeelsogood: No, it's inactive. There shouldn't be anyone in it, all of us are here, in UA becoming heroes, none of us would become villains again EVER. At the very most, drop out and live life out as a normal couple, but never become villains again. We all talked about this.

mystique: yeah, if we did, we would have told you heroes already about that one of us and have them put with Koku and the two creeps

Dadzawa: Well, someone's running it and it seems they had a meeting with the yakuza and I'm afraid I need all of you to be under constant supervision by a pro hero for a short while.

stopwatch: If it proves our innocence we shall do it.

2:01 pm

We Are Number One™

lostmymarbles: @chaoticgaydisaster Agency is fun. I really like working under Sir Nighteye.

chaoticgaydisaster: That's because you're both really serious and you get along very well.

lostmymarbles: Perhaps.

lostmymarbles: Oh, we're already going on a patrol! I'll call you when I come back from patrol, honey!

chaoticgaydisaster: I love you, you absolute dork.

3:59 PM

We Are Number One™

Dadzawa: I've just received word that Atsuhiro Sako has been kidnapped during his patrol.

chaoticgaydisaster: GET MY HUSBAND BACK THEN!

Dadzawa: Calm down, you need to be rational. He should be fine. They're looking for him as we speak.

chaoticgaydisaster: Please don't let him die? I love him, I need him.

Dadzawa: I can't promise you anything sadly, I'm not a part of the rescue team right now but they'll involve me if it becomes more serious.

chaoticgaydisaster: Can I have a Good Dad™ hug?

Dadzawa: Of course, come to the teacher's dorms, Hitoshi is already here stealing said hugs.

5:25 PM

We Are Number One™

Dadzawa: I have confirmation that they've found Sako. He's mostly fine.

WHERE?: What do you mean 'mostly'!? That's my brother-in-law!

Dadzawa: It looks as though his left arm has been ripped off but they're currently working on both healing him and attaching a prosthetic that would allow him to still channel his quirk through the arm.

mystique: Has anyone seen Tami?

eye gucci: She was with the Fatgum Agency I think.

baby shark: I haven't seen her for a while. She showed up with me and then she just kinda disappeared near...oh

stardust: what is 'oh'? What happened to our favorite girl?

baby shark: She disappeared at around 2 or 3 just like when Sako disappeared.

Dadzawa: I'll send the search team out for her too.

6:19 PM

We Are Number One™

Dadzawa: Magne is back! She's in the ICU recovering now, she needed some pretty strong healing so she'll be out of commission for quite a while. We haven't closed the investigation but you LOV kids need to know the message stapled on your friends.

Dadzawa: [pic of two papers reading 'here take this back, we don't need him yakuza' and 'I will always run the League.']

Dadzawa: Do these mean anything to any one of you?

idontfeelsogood: I'm so done. I've been hiding from a little twerp, I can't even believe I was scared of him. He's going too far, like always, and I thought he'd changed like we did but he didn't. I'm going to sort this shit out. Send a search team by tomorrow morning at 6:30 if nobody sees me by then, I have some business to take care of.

Dadzawa: wait, AllMight will have my head if you get hurt!

idontfeelsogood is now offline

Dadzawa: fuck.

6:34 PM

UA Teachers Are Tired™

grumpy scarf cat: so it looks like Tenko is going off-grid for what I'm going to call a 'private investigation' into the revived LOV. He's apparently taken his hero supervisor with him because Ragdoll is gone with him and he's going to, and I quote, "sort this shit out". and requested a search team if he doesn't show back up in 24 hours.

yeet yeet bitch: yeesh, you really can't catch a break, huh, Shou.

grumpy scarf cat: I'm starting to wish I expelled them at this point.

gotta go fast: bullshit, they're our disciples and you know it.

yeet yeet bitch: you're right but why say it?

9:35 PM

We Are Number One™

donthugmeimscared: No sign of Tenko yet, Hari, I'm getting worried.

stopwatch: Me too, but we need to trust he can do this.

shadowclonejutsu: he should be fine, guys. he'll be okay.

6:17 AM

We Are Number One™

donthugmeimscared: Almost 12 hours

Dadzawa: I know, Kai.

donthugmeimscared: Do you think he'll be okay, Mr. Aizawa?

Dadzawa: honestly, I don't know but I'm here to offer you hugs if you need them.

donthugmeimscared: Thank you but I can't do hugs right now, too constricting.

6:30 AM

We Are Number One™

Dadzawa: the search party is officially being sent out to get him.

4:17 PM

UA Teachers Are Tired™

screeching cockatiel: we found him and we have the traitor under arrest. Tenko looked worse for wear so he's at the hospital already

actual sunshine: Who's the traitor?

screeching cockatiel: Minoru Mineta.

actual sunshine: I'm glad he was arrested.

gotta go fast: Yagi, are you and Tenko okay? you've always sympathetic when it was someone underage being arrested.

actual sunshine: it becomes null when my mentor's son gets hurt. blood to me or not, I can't feel sympathy for someone who's hurt him. he didn't have a childhood to begin with and I won't let anyone take what little is left of it from him.

screeching cockatiel: is he okay, Yagi?

actual sunshine: Since he's in my temporary custody until Ms. Midoriya can finalize her adoption paperwork, they contacted me first with his injury report and I would like that purple little shit to burn for what he's done.

yeet yeet bitch: Do you wanna elaborate?

actual sunshine: His leg is broken. The leg he had an injury in before. They have to fix it again.

yeet yeet bitch: Shit.

actual sunshine: Along with that, he's been deemed unable for further stress in the form of training and extraneous activities because the hospital confirmed he's eight months pregnant and needs to deliver early due to the drugs Mineta forced into his bloodstream.

yeet yeet bitch: Fuck, this isn't good.

actual sunshine: I'm pushing Ms. Midoriya's paperwork up through the courts as an emergency adoption due to the situation of him being her technically being his step-mother and her son being his only remaining relative, even if only by half of his blood and him needing a stable family after the birth of a child.

yeet yeet bitch: Hopefully they'll get it done quickly.

actual sunshine: Until then, I need to go offline and be there for him as his only parental figure and the only other person allowed in the delivery room.

screeching cockatiel: What do we tell the children? Tenko's boyfriends?

actual sunshine: Hari was already called to the hospital but they cannot confirm it's his child so I'll be the only familiar face to young Tenko in the room for the delivery.

actual sunshine: I must go.

actual sunshine is now offline

8:17 PM

UA Teachers Are Tired™

actual sunshine: Tenko is fine, out of surgery for the C-Section and in recovery now. the two little girls are fine too, both are a little smaller but that's expected since they're both premature and Tenko never gained much weight during the pregnancy.

grumpy scarf cat: I still can't believe he's been pregnant his whole stay at UA. hell, he was probably pregnant during the USJ incident at the beginning of the year.

actual sunshine: You're probably right and I don't like that idea, Aizawa.

grumpy scarf cat: me either but that's the reality of the situation.

10:24 PM

We Are Number One™

idontfeelsogood: Out of surgery in recovery. Got drugged and they needed to induce me there to give birth, which I didn't even know I was pregnant. Two healthy little girls named Shimura Honoka and Shimura Nanami.

chaoticgaydisaster: Welcome to the teen mom club, Tenko.

WHERE?: We have meetups on Mondays and Fridays and have playdates with the kids.

idontfeelsogood: I thought you two were the only ones with kids though?

wElCoMeToBiBlEsTuDiEs: No, I have a one year old son, he is the light of my life.

WHAT?: Well, I mean...

princessbubblegumknockoff: I best be going! Wouldn't want to burn down the house with the water I left running.

spookyscaryskeletons: Oh, would you look at that, it's time to go to sleep and never speak of this again.

Dadzawa: wait, we have seven of you now? I thought we just went up to three!

Dadzawa: And Honenuki, I never expected you to be a teen parent.

spookyscaryskeletons: Whaaaaaat? Nooooo. I never said that. I said I was going to bed! I'm just going to bed!

Dadzawa: Suspicious.

spookyscaryskeletons: I certainly don't have a one year old son named Akiyama. Nope, not at all.

wElCoMeToBiBlEsTuDiEs: My son's name is Sekai.

princessbubblegumknockoff: Honestly, I thought you'd read that in my file. I was basically just out of the two day hospital stay when I took the entrance exams to get into UA.

baby shark: Can confirm, my moms watched her daughter that day.

princessbubblegumknockoff: Her name is Ayaka.

WHAT?: You literally met Akari when you visited my house.

Dadzawa: that wasn't your parents' child!? That was a ten month old child!

WHAT?: No, I fucking made that!

Dadzawa: I shouldn't be shocked I got six of the seven teen parents in this school. well, if you need me, please don't hesitate to ask me for help.

WHAT?: Well, I want to bring Akari to the dorms because she'll be safer here. She's been staying with Auntie Inko for a month or so now.

Dadzawa: of course.

Taglist: @logan-sanders-enthusiast @luckyicekitsune @whippedbel @lgbtforeverything @pinecone-chomper @mikmacmoo @wasinotwantedatthisexactsecond @purplespiderstormcloud @stankyratman @king-of-the-oranges @headcannons-and-random-things @fear-ze-queer @turtleluv799 @ymmm-someone

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cmi-miu · 4 years ago

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Ya’aburnee - Chapter 1 (Seventeen Soulmate AU)

Soulmate AU: The last words your soulmate says to you are the words tattooed on your wrist.

Pairing: SoonWoo, JiHan, SeokHao

Title: Ya'aburnee (arabic): yak-BER-nee (n.) lit. "you bury me"; the hope that your lover or beloved will outlive you as to spare yourself the pain of living beyond that person.

Summary: In a world where one’s wrists spell the Last Words their Soulmates will ever speak to them, Hansol and Seungkwan are stuck in a loophole of almost forever but never there. Where Seungkwan wants to take the next step and Hansol fears everything. And Jisoo and Jeonghan are so madly in love that nothing seems to get in their way despit uncertainity looming large around them. And Soonyoung is stuck in an unhappy marriage after the death of his soulmate—his wrist mocking him of the love he has lost forever and one he is sure to loose again. Wonwoo on the other hand is slowly falling in love despite the fear of Soonyoung speaking the words he’s most afraid of.

Author's Note: I refer to Minghao as Myungho and Dokyeom as Seokmin in this fic so... yeah...

Wonwoo has never been a romantic, what with fate ruining his life with the constant reminder of his yet to be found soulmate. Whoever was writing his romantic destiny up there was surely a royal dick because who in their fucking mind would think that marking his wrists up eternally with a very popular, and honestly addictive pop song’s lyrics, was a good idea? Yeah, Wonwoo wasn’t really a big fan of this “God” person.

He sighs, turning down the radio volume as that bloody song blares through the speakers as he’s tying his tie, getting ready for office. It’s a cover sung by a bunch of teenagers and had it been any other song, Wonwoo would’ve called up the radio station and complimented the kids for their splendid rendition of the decade-old song. But as it happens to be the cursed song that laces his wrists, he’s really not that keen on complimenting, let alone acknowledging anyone.

After all, every time he hears the song, every time his wrists shine, his stomach feels like it has spontaneously turned into a black hole that’s rapidly sucking him in.

“You do realise that I actually happen to like that song,” his husband mutters as he steps into the living room of their apartment. Cuffing his sleeves as, he too, prepares for his fifteen-minute drive to the office.

Wonwoo sighs, making room on the couch for his husband, as he continues putting on his shoes. “And you realise that I don’t want to constantly be reminded that my soulmate could be literally anyone who enjoys singing this song, and it might be the last time I ever hear them, right?”

Soonyoung, his husband, snorts and shakes his head as he mumbles, “nice to know you don’t have it narrowed down to your own husband.”

Sighing once again the Wonwoo bites his lips, picking up his briefcase from the coffee table. “I really don’t want to have this conversation with you, Soonyoung,” he mumbles, walking into the kitchen to pull out the grilled cheese sandwiches from the griller. He plates them with an orange juice on the counter, calling out to Soonyoung to “eat before you leave,” as he steps out of the apartment.

No ‘I love you’s’ are shared and no goodbye kisses happen. Soonyoung watches his husband close the door behind him without a second glance and he feels nothing.

***

“Myungho, I just don’t think you understand how important marriage is to me,” Seokmin mumbles to his live-in boyfriend of three years, as they lie in each other’s embrace. He can see the frown starting to line his boyfriend’s eyes and he holds his hands tighter as if asking him to let him continue. “I know you’re scared something bad will happen when we say our vows, but it might not even happen, Babe.”

Myungho rolls his eyes, pulling away from the cuddled-up position he and Seokmin are in and stares into his boyfriend’s eyes as he points at the tiny, I do on his wrist. “Do you see this ‘I do’ on my wrist, Seokmin? Do you understand what this means for me and anyone I might be dumb enough to get married to?” Seokmin stares at the mocking words and gulps as he tries to search for a retort but comes back empty-handed. “My sister’s husband died the day he said ‘I love you’ to her before sending her off to work. A car crash, Seokmin. The last thing she heard her husband say was ‘I love you’ and she always knew it’d kill him.”

“That doesn’t mean—” Seokmin begins but is cut off when Myungho pushes him away and starts pulling up his pants, already irritated with the same old conversation.

“She lived every day regretting his words ever since,” Myungho growls, putting on his T-shirt as he starts walking away. “She always told me how guilty she felt for ever allowing her husband to say those words, even after knowing what would happen. Every time he said those words, every time they shone on her wrist, her heart would stop until the words stopped glowing! She says she didn’t think it would happen so soon. But now look at her.” He shakes his head, walking out the door as he mutters under his breath, “stuck in that asylum for life.”

Seokmin watches his lover walk away and he knows he can’t do anything but hurt at the man’s actions. But, no matter how much he hurts, Seokmin knows that he can’t blame Myungho for wanting to protect his love for all eternity. He looks at his own wrist and rubs at the place where once the same words that lace Myungho's wrist had been, remembering getting them covered up at the age of nineteen after watching his father’s breakdown at his mother’s death.

They were never soulmates and something inside his father had broken when he found his wife’s last words to him were not “remember to water the plants today, Taeshik”.

***

It takes a special kind of skill to burn a tablecloth with nothing but one single matchstick, Jisoo realises, as he’s rubbing ice over his boyfriend’s finger. Shaking his head at the man, he asks him to keep the ice on his finger for a while and asks him to go back into their bedroom. The man had come out to make a sandwich—at four in the morning—and had burnt his fingers. Though, how that happened is a story Jisoo doesn’t wish to know.

He pulls out the ingredients for a simple chicken salad sandwich when his phone blares announcing a phone call. Rolling his eyes, he receives it, because only one person would call him up at four in the morning. His brother, Soonyoung.

“Just because it’s 7 pm back in Korea,” Jisoo begins, not even allowing Soonyoung on the other line to get a word in, “doesn’t mean you can call me at fucking 4 am, Kwon Soonyoung.”

The younger man snickers on the other end as he seems to shuffle in bed, Jisoo just knows he has probably a tonne of laundry lying on it. “I didn’t think you’d actually answer the call, Joshi.”

Jisoo snorts and pours some homemade mayonnaise in a bowl and pulls out the boiled chicken from the fridge as he explains, “Jeonghan, woke up in the middle of the night to make a sandwich and ended up burning the table cloth and his own hand in the process.

“It’s so creepy that you say this in such a ‘matter-of-fact’ manner,” Soonyoung mutters.

“Hey,” Jisoo shrugs, adding some seasoning into the mayo-chicken mix, “he’s super lazy and super clumsy and the sooner I accept this the better it’ll be for the both of us.”

Soonyoung giggles at his words and Jisoo takes pride in his feat. Sobering down a little when the man stops laughing and silence settles between them. “You okay, Hosh?” He mumbles into the receiver, walking back into his bedroom with the sandwiches in hand.

“Just feeling a little lonely,” Soonyoung mumbles. And Jisoo knows how vulnerable he must be feeling, seeing as he’s admitting to it.

“Where’s Wonwoo?” The man asks, settling down beside his boyfriend, pointing at the phone to make it clear that he shouldn’t speak. “Isn’t he home yet? It’s seven already, right?”

He hears Soonyoung sigh and plump his head on the pillow; he can almost feel Soonyoung’s loneliness digging holes into his own heart. “His office hasn’t let out yet,” Soonyoung tells him—voice tight. “He’ll leave in about an hour.”

Jisoo aches to comfort his brother somehow. To tell him that it’s just an hour. That Wonwoo will be home soon and that he should just wait it out a little. But he knows that Soonyoung’s loneliness has nothing to do with Wonwoo’s office timings. And that it has everything to do with the charred words on his wrist. The words that stopped shinning almost a year ago.

He finds himself unable to respond and it is Soonyoung who has to calm his thoughts as he mumbles “I… I think… I think Wonwoo’s home now, Jisoo. I’ll talk to you later.”

His brother cuts the call after that but Jisoo knows it’s not because his husband just came back home. He knows Wonwoo hasn’t come back yet because he never heard the doorbell ring on Soonyoung’s side. And against his better judgment, knowing well that nothing is going to change between the pair, Jisoo wishes happiness to both men.

He’s aware of the pain they’ve been through and nothing hurts more than his inability to help them.

#caratwritersclub #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfic rec #seventeen fanfiction #fanfic #svt fanfic #svt otp #soonwoo #jihan #seokhao #soulmate #soulmate au #svt soulmate au #seventeen soulmate au #seventeen angst #ya'aburnee

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jjs-other-other-blog · 4 years ago

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Whatever You Imagined

Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (mentioned), Jack Kline (mentioned)

Pairing: Destiel, Saileen (mentioned)

Rating: T (there may be a few f-bombs though if that counts)

Warnings: None. I think.

Summary: Castiel is back. Which is great because Cas, whom Dean loves, is alive and well. It also means Dean has to talk about his feelings though which he hates. This makes for an interesting conversation. [post 15x19; canon divergent]

Words: 3k

It had gotten quiet in the bunker despite the relatively early hour. Dean was the only one still sitting in the kitchen, mindlessly staring at his phone and taking a sip of beer every now and then. It was more a force of habit than an honest attempt to get drunk though. Why would it be? Everything seemed to be perfect. That’s why he was sitting alone in the kitchen at 9 pm after all. Because everything was so fucking perfect. Not to say that he wasn’t happy with the very recent turn of events. In fact he was still brimming with excitement. At least on the inside.

Cas was back. After Jack had taken on the powers of capital-g God and skipped town to “be” in the flowers or whatever Dean had hoped of course. Hoped and prayed and cursed the whole freaking universe, but he had never gotten an answer until without any kind of warning and completely out of the blue Jack showed up back on the bunker’s doorstep with a certain angel of the lord in tow.

Sam had immediately surged forward to hug Cas and their wayward son and there had been laughter and tears from all three of them. Everyone except Dean who had felt frozen in place, his mind trapped in a never-ending loop of “CasCasCas”. That had seemed to be the maximum capacity for his slightly hung-over head, so he had just stared at his best friend without any specific expression or thought or feeling behind it. They had hugged eventually and Dean was pretty sure that, like the fucking idiot he was, he had said something along the lines of: “Good to have you back buddy.” As if the last time they’d seen each other the guy hadn’t declared his undying love for him.

Cas’ face had gone through a rather confusing sequence of different emotions before it eventually settled on a worn, bittersweet smile and his lips formed the words: “Glad to be back.”

Half a minute of awkward silence later Sam had taken charge of the situation and guided them all down to the dining room where Jack had presented them with a detailed, animated version of their otherworldly prison break which somehow involved a backdoor between heaven and the empty that was hidden in Abel’s (yes, thee Abel’s) heaven, but to be completely honest Dean had spent more time staring at Cas or – the other way around – avoiding Cas’ stares than listening to Jack.

After Jack had finished his story Dean had gotten started on making dinner for the sole purpose of escaping the room and whatever awkward staring contest he and Cas had been about to get into. They obviously had to talk to each other sooner or later, but just the thought of starting that conversation had almost sent Dean into an anxiety attack. Hence his escape to the kitchen.

The awkwardness had stretched all over dinner and even Sam and Jack had noticed by the time the clock struck seven. At some point Jack had left to get Cas settled into his old room and shortly after that Sam, too, had decided to call it a night and with one more curious look at him he had left Dean to sulk on his own.

And that’s how Dean found himself still sitting in the exact same position over an hour later. Logically he new that he should go talk to Cas. It wasn’t fair on anyone to just leave this topic unaddressed, but once again Dean found himself unable to move. Maybe Cas was exhausted, he should let him rest. Or maybe he didn’t even want to talk to Dean, maybe he was angry. Cas had put his feelings out there and Dean… well. Dean hadn’t really said or done anything.

Half of him feared that he might have messed up their bond permanently, but he other half doubted that Cas would hold his silence against him. Everything had happened so fast and Cas had left him with a lot of info to emotionally unpack. If anything, Dean thought, he should be angry. What had Cas been thinking unloading all of that on Dean and then just leaving him there!

The anger might’ve been unjustified, but at least it shook him out of his interior monologue. He pocketed his phone, set the empty beer bottle down in the kitchen and made his way towards his room. When he passed Cas’ door on the hallway though he stopped out of reflex. Staring at the brown wood he thought back to that day with Billie and the empty and to the time before that with Lucifer and how every single time he lost Cas it had sent him head first into a several weeks long downwards spiral. Now Cas was right behind that door and Dean still wouldn’t talk to him, shoving his feelings aside yet again. Because that usually worked out so well. Fuck. “Just grow a pair and do it!”, he reprimanded himself and before he could change his mind again, Dean had already knocked.

“Come in!” Cas’ voice sounded muffled through the wood. He took one last deep breath and then did as he was told. Cas was sitting cross-legged on his bed reading a book. Dean shot him a quick smile, then looked away and closed the door behind him. This was a private conversation. He walked a few steps into the room, then came to a hesitant halt, wringing his hands. Fuck this was hard. He hadn’t even said anything yet. When he looked up again Cas was looking right back at him. He seemed a bit confused as to what Dean was doing, but smiled anyway.

“Hello Dean.” Dean almost started to cry then and there. It had only been a few weeks since he last heard those words, but god had he missed it. The deep rumble of his voice, the earnest yet benevolent blue eyes, that posture which looked both relaxed and tense at the same time. The trench coat was missing, but Dean quickly spotted it hanging over the back of a chair.

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey Cas.” He paused. He was certain there had been more words in his head just a second ago. Cas tilted his head curiously, but without insistence. Dean was pretty sure that Cas knew what he had come to talk about and that the angel didn’t want to pressure him.

“Cas”, he said his name again: “We have to-” He closed his eyes and sighed. “We should talk.” He hesitated again, not knowing where he should start. Maybe addressing the smallest issue first might be a good idea. “I didn’t wanna say anything earlier. Sam was there and Jack and I haven’t told them… They don’t know what happened with the empty. Not the details at least and you just got back and to be honest, I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t know for sure.”

“It’s okay”, Cas said softly and put the book down on the nightstand: “I already told you, I never expected a response. You don’t have to say anything. I mean, I know it was a lot and very sudden and you don’t feel the same way, that’s alright-”

“Cas, I mean this in the kindest way possible, but please shut up.” Cas’ mouth snapped closed and he frowned. “Shit, I’m sorry. Sorry, it’s just-. You said a lot of things while summoning the empty. And you’re right, it was a lot and very sudden. I barely got a word in edgewise and then when you finished your speech and the empty-” He stopped again, his throat feeling unusually tight.

“You were gone, Cas. I barely had the time to process anything of what you were saying, much less come up with something myself. I just know that suddenly you were gone and I was left alone with that declaration of love - which apparently you feel for me. And I know you did all of that to save me, save the universe or whatever, but honestly. You can’t just drop all of that on someone and then leave!” He looked over at Cas again who wouldn’t meet his eyes and seemed more agitated by the second. He wanted to move on before he lost his courage, but Cas was faster.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I realise now that that wasn’t completely fair on you. I just didn’t see another way. We were about to die and I could not let that happen to you. I’m sorry that I burdened you with all of this and you should know that you don’t owe me anything. It just needed to be said and I am aware that – how did I put it? It’s something I know I can’t have. I never should’ve-”

“For fuck’s sake”, Dean muttered and rubbed his face: “Cas. You had your time, you’ve said your part. It’s my turn with the chick flick moment and this would be a lot easier if you would just let me finish, capiche?”

He nodded eagerly. “Yes. Yes, I uh. I “capiche”.” Cas sat up straighter as if to get up. That was when Dean realised he was still standing in the middle of the room like a lost sheep. He motioned for Cas to remain seated and looked around the room. The chair with the trench coat was still there, but Dean doubted he could get another two coherent words out while face to face with Cas, so instead he sat down on the edge of the bed. He carefully adjusted his position so that Cas was sitting a few feet to his right. He could smell the familiar scent of the angel now. Great, just what he needed. Another distraction. Well at least Cas was no longer in his line of sight, maybe he could do this.

“I probably shouldn’t yell and curse that much. I’m trying to say something important here and I wanna do it right. I wanna do right by you after everything you’ve done for me. You deserve that. I’m just really, really not good at this, so. Be patient with me.” He looked at Cas once more for confirmation and he nodded. Dean took another deep breath and stared at his hands. No backing out of this now, Winchester.

“Cas, I need to be honest here. Before the empty took you, the thought of you and me together as something other than best friends never even crossed my mind. You’re an angel and I’m, well, I’m me. I never thought that I would ever have somebody like you in my life at all. It had been just Sam and me for such a long time. And sure he’s my brother, I love that nerd. But to have somebody else, somebody who I wasn’t responsible for, who I could count on without being related to them by blood – that was new for me. I never had a real friend like that before. We spent so much time together and we’ve been through so much. I know I took you for granted way too often, but I always considered myself lucky to have you in my corner. And I thought… Well, I just assumed that you felt the exact same way. But then you summoned the empty and said all that stuff about me and at first I couldn’t process any of what had happened, it was just not right. Then after a few hours of at least trying to understand I just pushed it all away because there was no time. We still had Chuck to take care of. Save the universe and all that. Eventually Sam and I returned to the bunker though. He reunited with Eileen and with Jack gone, it was just me for a few days. I’m not proud of this, but I really didn’t take it very well. I kept myself busy drinking most of the time, I lost track of time. It didn’t really matter to me if it was 3 am or 3 pm as long as there was some kind of alcohol nearby. I don’t think I ever told you this, but you are one of the three most important people in my life, Cas, and I lost you. So I settled into the depression phase quite well. No denying that. And then the anger came and I would just pace the bunker for hours asking myself why the hell it had to be this way and why on top of losing you I also had to deal with the romantic feelings my dead best friend had had for me and I felt even more guilty. It didn’t make sense and it wasn’t fair. At some point Sam and Eileen came back though, so I at least tried to get better. They deserved to be happy without having to worry about me. I stopped the day-drinking. Got sober, more or less. That was when I started to really think about what you said. You mentioned it earlier. How “the one thing you wanted was something you knew you couldn’t have”. I started to wonder what exactly you meant by that. Did you want us to be a couple? Boyfriends? Live that apple pie life? Or would we have kept hunting, living our lives together Bonnie and Clyde style? Did you want us to raise Jack together and have family dinners on sundays? Hand holding in the park, making out in the back of the theatre? I don’t know. On the one hand I couldn’t imagine it. On the other hand I couldn’t stop thinking about it either. I became almost obsessed with the idea and it took me along time to truly figure this out. I had trouble picturing it in my head because, for one, I had never thought about it before. That maybe there was a possibility to relabel our relationship. Not because you’re a guy. Well, angel, but you know what I mean. It may come as a shock for you, but I’ve actually known for a while – and believe me, I mean a while – that I’m not straight. The way I was brought up though… It was barely acceptable to fuck a guy here and there, but dating one? That was unheard of. So on those rare occasions when I thought about settling down I always saw myself doing that with a woman and I never told anyone about the men I met along the way. Stupid, I know, but that’s how the story is supposed to go, right? Boy meets girl, et cetera. I know that gender works differently for you angels, but you look like a man and we call you “he” and “him”. I guess that threw me off. But still, I couldn’t stop thinking about us and I think that’s what really broke me at last. Because the more I thought about all the possibilities and the things that might’ve been, the more I also realised what I had lost. You said a lot of good things, but there is one detail you were wrong about, Cas. That “it” you thought you could never have? I don’t care what it is. I don’t care what exactly you had in mind. Cas, whatever it is you imagined – I want it. Maybe I always have. You – you can have me.”

Finally, Dean dared to look up again. He had tried to keep it together during his little speech, but now he could feel the tears burning behind his eyes and his heart hammering in his chest. Cas didn’t seem to fare much better. His eyes were glazed over and his bottom lip trembled.

“Dean”, Cas forced out. He opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. Dean felt his heart break a little at Cas’ pained expression and he noticed his hands were trembling. He got up from the bed to kneel in front of Cas and carefully took his hands in his own. Cas held on to Dean as if he were his anchor. He seemed so overwhelmed, lost even. Dean began to wonder if he had said too much.

“Listen, Cas. If – if you changed your mind. If this is no longer what you want-” He didn’t get any further. Suddenly Cas was kissing him and it was like a dam had broken. 12 years of repressed feelings and tension finally unloaded. Dean closed his eyes and kissed him back like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. Cas saying goodbye had felt like dying. Losing him was hell.

But now, in this very moment with Cas’ lips on his and his hands in Dean’s hair he felt alive, so alive and Cas was too. He was here with him and maybe they could just stay right here for ever. Maybe they would fall asleep in each others’ arms and sleep well past noon, they deserved the rest. Maybe he’d have to awkwardly come out to his brother the following morning and maybe he and Cas would have to discuss what this meant for their future. But none of that mattered to Dean right now. All that mattered was that they had a future. And let’s be real: It is kind of hard to think of anything else when an angel of the lord is kissing you senseless with his hands under your shirt.

#supernatural #spn #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel reunion #destiel fanfic #spn fanfic

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johanna-swann · 4 years ago

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Whatever You Imagined

It’s here, it’s queer. My Supernatural oneshot. Read below the cut.

Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (mentioned), Jack Kline (mentioned)

Pairing: Destiel, Saileen (mentioned)

Rating: T (there may be a few f-bombs though)

Warnings: None

Summary: Jack saved Cas from the empty. Which is great because Cas, whom he loves, is alive and well. It also means Dean has to talk about his feelings though which he hates.

Words: 3k

It had gotten quiet in the bunker despite the relatively early hour. Dean was the only one still sitting in the kitchen, mindlessly staring at his phone and taking a sip of beer every now and then. It was more a force of habit than an honest attempt to get drunk though. Why would it be? Everything seemed to be perfect. That's why he was sitting alone in the kitchen at 9 pm after all. Because everything was so fucking perfect. Not to say that he wasn't happy with the very recent turn of events. In fact he was still brimming with excitement, at least on the inside.

Cas was back. After Jack had taken on the powers of capital-g God and skipped town to “be” in the flowers or whatever Dean had hoped of course. Hoped and prayed and cursed the whole freaking universe, but he had never gotten an answer until without any kind of warning and completely out of the blue Jack showed back up on the bunker's doorstep with a certain angel of the lord in tow.

Sam had immediately surged forward to hug Cas and their wayward son and there had been laughter and tears from all three of them. Everyone except Dean who had felt frozen in place, his mind trapped in a never-ending loop of “CasCasCas”. That had seemed to be the maximum capacity for his slightly hung-over head, so he had just stared at his best friend without any specific expression. They had hugged eventually and Dean was pretty sure that, like the fucking idiot he was, he had said something along the lines of: “Good to have you back buddy.”, as if the last time they had seen each other the angel hadn't declared his undying love for him.

Cas' face had gone through a rather confusing sequence of different emotions before it eventually settled on a worn, bittersweet smile and his lips formed the words: “Glad to be back.”

Half a minute of awkward silence later Sam had taken charge of the situation and guided them all down to the dining room where Jack had presented them with a detailed, animated version of their otherworldly prison break which somehow involved a backdoor between heaven and the empty that was hidden in Abel's (yes,the Abel) heaven, but to be completely honest Dean had spent more time staring at Cas or – the other way around – avoiding Cas' stares than listening to Jack.

After Jack had finished his story Dean had gotten started on making dinner for the sole purpose of escaping whatever awkward staring contest he and Cas had been about to get into. They obviously had to talk to each other sooner or later, but just the thought of starting that conversation had almost sent Dean into an anxiety attack. Hence his escape to the kitchen.

And that's how Dean found himself still sitting in the exact same position over an hour later. Logically he new that he should go talk to Cas. It wasn't fair on either of them to just leave this topic unaddressed, but once again Dean found himself unable to move. Maybe Cas was exhausted, he should let him rest. Or maybe he didn't even want to talk to Dean, maybe he was angry. Cas had put his feelings out there and Dean… well. Dean hadn't really said or done anything.

The anger might've been unjustified, but at least it shook him out of his interior monologue. He pocketed his phone, set the empty beer bottle down in the kitchen and made his way towards his room. When he passed Cas' door on the hallway though he stopped out of reflex. Staring at the brown wood he thought back to that day with Billie and the empty and to the time before that with Lucifer and how every single time he lost Cas it had sent him head first into a several weeks long downwards spiral. Now Cas was right behind that door and Dean still wouldn't talk to him, shoving his feelings aside yet again. Because that usually worked out so well. Fuck. “Just grow a pair and do it!”, he reprimanded himself and before he could change his mind again, Dean had already knocked.

“Come in!” Cas' voice sounded muffled through the wood. He took one last deep breath and then did as he was told. Cas was sitting cross-legged on his bed reading a book. Dean shot him a quick smile, then looked away and closed the door behind him. This was a private conversation. He walked a few steps into the room, then came to a hesitant halt, wringing his hands. Fuck this was hard. He hadn't even said anything yet. When he looked up again Cas was looking right back at him. He seemed a bit confused as to what Dean was doing, but smiled anyway.

“Cas”, he said his name again: “We have to-” He closed his eyes and sighed. “We should talk.” He hesitated again, not knowing where he should start. Maybe addressing the smallest issue first might be a good idea. “I didn't wanna say anything earlier. Sam was there and Jack and I haven't told them… They don't know what happened with the empty. Not the details at least and you just got back and to be honest, I didn't know what to say. I still don't know for sure.”

“It's okay”, Cas said softly and put the book down on the nightstand: “I already told you, I never expected a response. You don't have to say anything. I mean, I know it was a lot and very sudden and you don't feel the same way, that's alright-”

“Cas, I mean this in the kindest way possible, but please shut up.” Cas' mouth snapped closed and he frowned. “Shit, I'm sorry. Sorry, it's just-. You said a lot of things while summoning the empty. And you're right, it was a lot and very sudden. I barely got a word in edgewise and then when you finished your speech and the empty-” He stopped again, his throat feeling unusually tight.

“You were gone, Cas. I barely had the time to process anything of what you were saying, much less come up with something myself. I just know that suddenly you were gone and I was left alone with that declaration of love which apparently you feel for me. And I know you did all of that to save me, save the universe or whatever, but honestly. You can't just drop all of that on someone and then leave!” He looked over at Cas again who wouldn't meet his eyes and seemed more agitated by the second. He wanted to move on before he lost his courage, but Cas was faster.

“I'm sorry, Dean. I realise now that that wasn't completely fair on you. I just didn't see another way. We were about to die and I could not let that happen to you. I'm sorry that I burdened you with all of this and you should know that you don't owe me anything. It just needed to be said and I am aware that – how did I put it? It's something I know I can't have. I never should've-”

“For fuck's sake”, Dean muttered and rubbed his face: “Cas. You had your time, you've said your part. It's my turn with the chick flick moment and this would be a lot easier if you would just let me finish, capiche?”

He nodded eagerly. “Yes. Yes, I uh. I “capiche”.” Cas sat up straighter as if to get up. That was when Dean realised he was still standing in the middle of the room like a lost sheep. He motioned for Cas to remain seated and looked around the room. The chair with the trench coat was still there, but Dean doubted he could get even two coherent words out while face to face with Cas, so instead he sat down on the edge of the bed. He carefully adjusted his position so that Cas was sitting a few feet to his right. He could smell the familiar scent of the angel now. Great, just what he needed. Another distraction. Well at least Cas was no longer in his line of sight, maybe he could do this.

“I probably shouldn't yell and curse that much. I'm trying to say something important here and I wanna do it right. I wanna do right by you after everything you've done for me. You deserve that. I'm just really, really not good at this, so. Be patient with me.” He looked at Cas once more for confirmation and he nodded. Dean took another deep breath and stared at his hands. No backing out of this now, Winchester.

“Cas, I need to be honest here. Before the empty took you, the thought of you and me together as something other than best friends never even crossed my mind. You're an angel and I'm, well, I'm me. I never thought that I would ever have somebody like you in my life at all. It had been just Sam and me for such a long time. And sure he's my brother, I love that nerd. But to have somebody else, somebody who I wasn't responsible for, who I could count on without being related to them by blood – that was new for me. I never had a real friend like that before. We spent so much time together and we've been through so much. I know I took you for granted way too often, but I always considered myself lucky to have you in my corner. And I thought... Well, I just assumed that you felt the exact same way.

But then you summoned the empty and said all that stuff about me and at first I couldn't process any of what had happened, it was just not right. Then after a few hours of at least trying to understand I just pushed it all away because there was no time. We still had Chuck to take care of. Eventually Sam and I returned to the bunker though. He reunited with Eileen and with Jack gone, it was just me for a few days. I'm not proud of this, but I really didn't take it very well. I kept myself busy drinking most of the time, I lost track of time. It didn't really matter to me if it was 3 am or pm as long as there was some kind of alcohol nearby. You are one of the two most important people in my life, Cas, and I lost you.

So I settled into the depression phase quite well. No denying that. And then the anger came and I would just pace the bunker for hours asking myself why the hell it had to be this way and why on top of losing you I also had to deal with the romantic feelings my dead best friend had had for me and I felt even more guilty. It didn't make sense and it wasn't fair. At some point Sam and Eileen came back though, so I at least tried to get better. They deserved to be happy without having to worry about me. I got sober, more or less. That was when I started to really think about what you said.

You mentioned it earlier. How “the one thing you wanted was something you knew you couldn't have”. I started to wonder what exactly you meant by that. Did you want us to be a couple? Boyfriends? Live that apple pie life? Or would we have kept hunting, living our lives together Bonnie and Clyde style? Did you want us to raise Jack together and have family dinners? Hand holding in the park, making out in the back of the theater? I don't know. On the one hand I couldn't imagine it. On the other hand I couldn't stop thinking about it. I became almost obsessed with the idea and it took me along time to truly figure this out.

I had trouble picturing it in my head because, for one, I had never thought about it before. That maybe there was a possibility to relabel our relationship. Now the next part may come as a shock for you, but I've actually known for a while – and believe me, I mean a while – that I'm not straight. The way I was brought up though... It was barely acceptable to fuck a guy here and there, but dating one? That was unheard of. So on those rare occasions when I thought about settling down I always saw myself doing that with a woman and I never told anyone about the men I met along the way.

Stupid, I know, but that's how the story is supposed to go, right? Boy meets girl, et cetera. I know that gender works differently for you angels, but you look like a man and we call you “he” and “him”. I guess that threw me off. But still, I couldn't stop thinking about it and I think that's what really broke me at last.

Because the more I thought about all the possibilities and the things that might've been, the more I also realised what I had lost. You said a lot of good things, but there is one detail you were wrong about, Cas. That “it” you thought you could never have? I don't care what it is. I don't care what exactly you had in mind. Cas, whatever it is you imagined – I want it, maybe I always have. You – you can have me.”

Finally, Dean dared to look up again. He had tried to keep it together during his little speech, but now he could feel the tears burning behind his eyes and his heart hammering in his chest. Cas didn't seem to fare much better. His eyes were glazed over with unshed tears and his bottom lip trembled.

“Dean”, Cas forced out. He opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. Dean felt his heart break a little at Cas' pained expression and he noticed his hands were trembling. He got up from the bed to kneel in front of Cas and carefully took his hands in his own. Cas held on to Dean as if he were his anchor. He seemed so overwhelmed, lost even. Dean began to wonder if he had said too much.

“Listen, Cas. If – if you changed your mind. If this is no longer what you want-” He didn't get any further. Suddenly Cas was kissing him and it was like a dam had broken. 12 years of repressed feelings and tension finally unloaded. Dean closed his eyes and kissed him back like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. Cas saying goodbye had felt like dying. Losing him was hell.

But now, in this very moment with Cas' lips on his and his hands in Dean's hair he felt alive, so alive and Cas was too. He was here with him and maybe they would just stay right here for hours. Maybe they would fall asleep in each others' arms and sleep well past noon, they deserved the rest. Maybe he'd have to awkwardly come out to his brother the following morning and maybe he and Cas would have to discuss what this meant for their future. But none of that mattered to Dean right now. All that mattered was that they had a future. And let's be real: It is kind of hard to think of anything else when an angel of the lord has his hands under your shirt while kissing you senseless.

#supernatural #spn #Destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #spn fanfiction #fanfiction #happy birthday dean #42

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uhgoodmoni · 4 years ago

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Nothing That Lasts Forever

A BTS Horror Fanfiction

Warnings: Major Character Death, Blood, Demons, Fighting, Verbal and Physical Abuse, Mention of marijuana, Death, Cursing, Fire, Unintentional Self-harm, Gore. Yoongi's injury

Ao3 link - Wattpad link - Soundtrack

Trailer - ch1 - ch2 - ch3 - ch4 - ch5 - ch6 - ch7 - ch8 - ch9

Chapter Seven: Joon’s Call

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INVOLVES HEAVIER TOPICS, as the author I got stressed writing this so if you get anxious easily then I don’t suggest you read any further. The next few chapters are very heavy, especially if you don’t like to see our boys hurt. Please remember that I have tagged Major Character Death. Please remember that this is an act of fiction and I do not mean any harm with my work.

Last warning: I - your author, genuinely cried writing some of the next chapter(s). I'm still not trying to spoil anything but from here on out the story gets a lot more serious and heavy. I know I said I wouldn’t put warnings and author's notes but I think that if you want to finish the story you should know it's not an easy ride. Anyway, good luck.

Yoongi's POV

I look back, as I head out the door. The sky is already darkening. From the clouds maybe. Or maybe my sense of time is jumbled. I don’t know. I pull the phone out, keeping an eye on the bars as I move across the clearing. I stare back to the cabin, the yellow light of the living room shining through the windows. Through a few trees. The time says one pm. I shudder thinking of how it felt like only moments ago that Jungkook and I awoke. The chill from earlier still clings to the air, the clouds from yesterday have returned.

I ignore the tug of the cold. The tug of branches. The tug of guilt for leaving them behind. I hike up the path, staring ahead and not knowing what’s in the trees. Keep moving forward. Keep moving forward.

My legs ache as I reach the top of the path. Still no service. Keep moving forward. It has to work, we have no other choice. It needs to work. I reach the top of the hill, the wind chill hitting my body and giving me a breath of fresh air. Cool air, filling my lungs and relief fills me. The air here is different.

My knees buckle, and I take a seat, taking in as much as the air as I can. It feels good. The air here. Refreshing. It feels almost normal. I feel almost normal.

‘Ding’

My eyes twitch at the sound. My cell phone again. Thank god. It works. It really will work. There’s service here. I lift it up to my face, the screen lighting up enthusiastically, only at 10%. Three bars, enough for more texts to come through.

Joons “Hey, how’s it going?”

Joons “too busy having fun to answer?”

Joons “don’t make me worry too much why isn’t Jungkook or Hoseok answering either?”

I inhale deeply, desperately unlocking the phone, pulling his text open, and pressing call. My hand flings the phone to my ear, grateful to hear the ringing sound. A tear slips down my cheek.

“Please please,” I mumble, my lips sticking together from dehydration and dirt. “Joon answer.” clenching the phone, my butt lifts from the ground. Praying that standing would give me better service. “God come on,” knowing that praying is to no avail.

The ring ends short, a whir on the other end. I glance out to the trees below. The city horizon a blur in the distance. Fuck. I realize. No one is gonna help us. No one will find us in time. We are utterly and completely alone. I should have known. The hope drained from Hobi’s eyes. How have I maintained any? My fist flexes against the cold case of my phone. Unreliable piece of shit. Shit.

“Yoongi you there?” Joon’s voice echoes from the speaker. My whole body unclenches. Breath falling from my lungs, finally I can breathe out. His voice. I missed his voice. He knows what to say. I need him to say them. He will know how to help. He will know what to do. Namjoon. He can help. Please help.

“I…” the sound flys from me, escaping into the air, that feels so normal. I’m too overwhelmed to speak. It’s not normal.

“Hey, are you okay? There isn’t service? I thought you said that there was wifi?” He continues, the cool breeze blowing my own words away. What do I even say? I’m not even sure what’s happened myself. I don’t know anything. I’m so confused. I don’t want to die. I don’t even know if Hoseok or Jungkook will be okay. If they even are okay. “Damn I get it when Jungkook doesn’t answer but didn’t think I’d be lecturing you.” My face contorts at this. Hearing him speak so normally. It’s not normal. It’s not. God, please.

I’ve missed his voice.

“Joon.” My teeth grind together, finally speaking coherently, but still choked up. I flip back to the trail towards the cabin. Slowly getting darker there. Not another night. No. We are leaving tonight. We can get help before it gets dark.

He gives a short huff, “Okay. I’m listening.” His voice is smooth, and I know he knows something is wrong. He knows. He always knows. Trying not to sound stressed, not to elevate the situation. But I know. I know he’s worried. I know he’s close to… “Yoongi.” I know. I know.

“Pleas…” It cuts, the call ends, bars depleted. I swallow all the moisture left in my mouth. I’m unable to see the screen through my tears, phone held out in front of me. An awkward groan escapes my lips. “No…” my hands crawl into my abdomen as I wretch over. Nothing comes from my mouth. My hand still grasping the thing that failed me. “MOTHER FUCKER” My palms hit the dirt, saving my face from kissing it. My shoulder pangs at the sudden movement.

I frantically wipe my eyes, glancing down to my phone, at 3 percent now. “What the fuck.” I whisper, pulling myself into a seated position. Tree’s shadows disappearing in the haze. Wherever the sun was, it had been going down. Time. I look to the clock. Eight pm. Lies and fucking bullshit. I don’t understand. Lies. I blink at my tears, falling, falling. Eight pm. Fuck. How can it be possible? Another moan crawls from my throat.

“Stupid motherfucker.” I whisper to the phone, staring down at it, laying in front of me. “FUCK.” My head lifts to the sky, voice shaking. My fingers slide across the grass, searching. A rock finds my hands. “FUCK,” I bring it down once. “FUCK,” Twice. “FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.” Over and over.

Rolling to the side, the stone has done its job, making the useless, even more… useless. My palms are scraped, one nail broken. I guess I should go back to them. I shouldn’t leave Hobi alone while Jungkook is incapacitated.

I shouldn’t have.

Picking myself up, my feet follow the trail back. Its getting darker and darker. My eyes are tired. The clock. Ticking. Not that it mattered. We’re fucked. Would it really matter if I made it back or not? One pm or eight pm. Too late.

“Yoongi!” A cry comes from ahead. It’s desperate.

Too late

“Yoongi!” My eyes lift to the yellow lights from the cabin windows. I don’t remember walking all the way back. “YOONGI” My eyes widen as I realize Hoseok is shrieking. Why did I become tired? Why did I slow? My hopelessness is getting the better of me. Fuck. I fling my feet ahead, dashing to the open door.

“Hoseok?” I speak into the chilled air. The living room is void of his presence. My eyes fall to the floor, Jungkook where I left him. Shivering and unconscious. Shit. Shit. Not again. I can’t see him like that again. “Hobi?” I call out into the house, all the lights still on.

“Yoon..” Jungkooks muttering makes me jump, but I quickly go to his side. He’s pale, hands cold as I grip them. I shouldn’t have gone. We should have figured something out together. His eyes flutter open, looking over me oddly.

I swallow removing my hands from his. “What’s something only you would know about me?” Now this question was starting to make sense. After Hoseok…”

With a blink, he repeats the same from earlier, “You talked to me when I was feeling sad” he releases a weak chuckle, “after Jin Hyung was talking about enlistment…” He starts with a frown.

My jaw clenches, interrupting him; “Something else.”

“What?”

“Something else, Koo.” I repeat firmly. He wouldn’t say the same thing twice… It’s not right. That’s something obvious to me.

“I…” His eyes glance over me again, scanning over slowly. “I can't,” He speaks clearly, sitting up to face me. My breath is surely hitting his nose but I feel no air from his lungs. His chest isn’t moving either.

“Koo.” My eyes widen, as a grin fills his face.

His head tilts slightly, “Who’s Koo?” it cooes, licking its lips. I flip, starting to push myself up, but a strong grip finds my wrist. It yanks me closer, squeezing, too tight.

“Ahh,” I cry out, pulling with my free arm at his tattooed hand. It holds me close. Staring me down. The A on his knuckle, completed. It isn’t Jungkook. That I am sure of. “Stop,” I whine, the hand maintaining strength in holding me to it. Why? Why is it doing this? This pain? This fear? The itch, the silence.

It blinks, pushing itself up from the ground, twisting my wrist up with him. “Where is he?” I spit up at him, still on my knees. “Where is Jungkook?”

It shows teeth, rotting, and a slimy green. “Who?” it chuckles, lifting me up to stand next to him. I wince as its nails dig into my wrist, reaching at my right hip with the opposite hand. “Koo?” It mocks, digging its nails there too.

“You fuck!” I cough, slamming my free palm against its arm. Nails piercing my side, I kick at him. “Stop, stop, stop.” I cry, looking desperately over my friend. Or really just something that looks like him. Kicking at his legs weakly. Even the real Jungkook is stronger than me, but this is a new strength.

“Stop stop stop.” It whines, faking its tone. “You…” I stare into his eyes, bloodshot, as its mouth hangs open, an unfinished sentence hanging in the air. “Fuck!” It screeches, lifting me into the air. My legs dangling, swinging at his body.

“Jungkook STOP.” Tearing at his wrist, I glance around the room, the lights flickering. The claws relieve themselves from my flesh, shoving his palm into my chest, my back making contact with the wall. Glass shatters around me, the gold-rimmed mirror hitting the floor with my body. “Aghah.” I give a groan, my wrist already weakened, catching my fall. I choke out a breath as the rest of my body finds the wooden panels of the floor. My lips purse together, no air in my lungs, a pressure deep in my ribcage. Broken? Bruised? The strong force of his push makes way to a pain in my chest. The glass, sharp beneath my fingers, as I feel around. Screwing my eyes shut, I search for a breath. But there is none. No air in the room. My hand presses into my chest, struggling to breathe, glass pressing into the print of my fingers.

“Jungkook STOP.” It screams right back, A deafening pitch, making me drive my forehead into the wood. My limbs spread out across the floor, hands fumbling at the wall not getting a grasp. I wince, my shoulder blades aching in pain already. The bad shoulder, already showing signs of pain I’ve felt over the years.

Before I get a chance to look up, fingers curl themselves in my hair, ripping upwards. I sob, staring up at an unrecognizable body, through the tears and the mishapeness. Breath finally finding itself painfully into my lungs. Air forcefully shoved down my throat as I suck in as much as I can.

“I don’t know who that is” The thing says plainly, a thumb crossing my forehead. Letting out a hack, I squirm to no release. With a firm grip on the back of my neck it lifts me to my feet once more. The bruises forming on my back tender as it presses me into the wall, hand snaking around my throat. Already struggling to breath I tug at his arm, tattoos blending in a mesh of flesh.

“What the fuck…” I gag, my tiptoes holding up my body. Blood streams from the ducts of his eyes, skin a ghostly pale. “Jungg..” It squeezes harder, the pressure just relieved forming again in my chest. “Wake” Kicking at his legs, “up.” No reaction, only increasing the pressure on my throat. Oh god. Please. Jungkook wake up. Still, tears stream down my face. Is he even there any more? The smirk on his face tells me no. If he is, his empathy would bring him back. He cares too much for others. Other’s tears bring a flood of his own. Why is this happening to us? Will I die? No, I can’t die. I don’t want to.

“Jungkook…” I struggle, “We have to go home.” blood stained eyes blinking, running them down over me in constant observation. “For our brothers, for the lives we lead.” With this plea the grip lessens slightly. He’s there? It has to be possible. “There’s so many people out there waiting for us to come home.” It smirks, tightening its grip once more.

Jungkook is gone.

Freely the tears fall, his hand clamping down. More and more. “Koo..”

At this rate I will be too.

I feel helpless. It’s strength is immeasurable. Still, it wasn’t instantly snapping my neck. Pain and suffering must bring it some sort of satisfaction. The tears that I let go. If only I could hold them in. Hobi might still be out there and I won’t be there to help him. He has to be terrified, what if he already is gone too? Why the fuck did I leave him? I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have.

“Hoba, I’m so sorry…” I blubber, barely keeping my eyes open.

From the side hallway, a body. Slowly I peer over, seeing Hobi, safe and alive. He’s sliding across the wall, hand over his mouth, tears streaming down his face. We make eye contact, him nodding slowly as he creeps closer, limping.

I squeeze my eyes shut, gulping. Shoving my legs out at Jungkook. No oxygen left in my body. Please. I kick and kick. Not really doing anything against the figure holding me in place.

“Let him go.” Hoseok screeches, taking a jump against Jungkook. All three of us fall to the floor. Gasping for air again. Still a shadow of a grip is left on my throat. Air returns to my lungs suddenly, and I try to look up at the others.

Jungkook, huffs, flipping on top of Hobi and punching him straight in the face. Hard. Too hard. I sniffle, barely able to see, but I shuffle my hands, reaching for a piece of glass from the shattered mirror. Jungkook’s hands form around Hobi’s throat who isn’t fighting back. The glass pricks at my palms.

My knees struggle to lift me up, but unbalanced I stand over Jungkook. He is gone. It’s not him. He would never hurt Hobi. He would never hurt me. He is gone. My hand tightens around the long glass, piercing my palm, raising it over him. It’s not him. I shake, crying hard, as I bring it down into his back. He’s already gone. I press it deeper into him, my palms screaming from the slits. It’s not him. You needed to get Hobi. I choke out, shoving the large limp body off of Hoseok.

“It’s not him.” I wail, pressing my bloody hands to my eyes. “Not him.” I curl back down next to Hoseok who is breathing heavily. I can’t look back up, not at him. Not at the body. But it is him. It was. He is still in there. And I took any chance of him getting back. I ended him. I killed him. I squeeze my hands, blood pouring from them.

I killed Jungkook.

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mageicalwishes · 5 years ago

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Summary: Baz takes Simon to see the stars, but they end up doing a lot more speaking than stargazing. "Simon Snow’s schoolboy fixation has finally found some real-world truth - I’m plotting. Although, this time I’m not focused on bringing about the Chosen One’s destruction. I just want to make him smile." Inspired by Carry On Sparks, Week 4 - Plot @carryonsparks (Even though this is literally 3 weeks late. I write so slowly!)

TW - There is a brief mention of what happened in the forest in Carry On, so suicidal intentions are mentioned. It's nothing graphic or anything like that, but I thought it would be best to mention it!

Words: 9,221

Baz

Simon Snow’s schoolboy fixation has finally found some real-world truth - I’m plotting. Although, this time I’m not focused on bringing about the Chosen One’s destruction. I just want to make him smile.

Two years ago today, back at Watford, Simon showed me the stars. It’s a day neither of us will ever forget. In all of our, admittedly, limited conversations about our relationship, he’s always maintained that, that was the day he felt something shift (Even if he didn’t fully realise it at the time). There, somewhere between our stiff beds and the infinity of space, something happened that changed us. That remade us. And I think it’s finally time that I repay the favour.

Unfortunately, though, I’m unable to just conjure up the universe with a flick of my wrist like he did (I’ve tried numerous times, to no avail), so I’ve had to concede to taking a more normal approach to replicating the magic of that night. I'm taking him on a date. Somewhere where the stars can shine down on him.

In all our time together, we’ve never actually managed a traditional date (What with all the mess at Watford, the absolute catastrophe that was our “Great American road trip”, and all of our recent avoidance), so really, it’s long overdue.

Only ... I'm not entirely sure that he'll actually be willing to go with me; given our current situation. But I suppose there’s little harm in asking - Things can’t really get much worse than they already are, and as they say … ‘Fortune favours the bold’.

“Snow,” I call, prodding at his thigh. “I need you to get up.”

He’s flopped, utterly lifeless, on the sofa again - His threadbare pyjamas stained and crumpled, and a ghastly stack of unwashed glasses and plates littering the floor around him, where his tail lays, limply.

It hurts to look at him like this; so far from himself. But that’s how it is most days. Simon Snow: the boy who was promised the world - promised glory and gold - and left with nothing, lying vacant and depressed in his living room. Some days are better, of course; but most aren’t.

After America, I had hoped that things may be a little easier for him. That maybe some of his regained zest would stay with him. But nothing substantial changed. Without the sun, and the space, and the danger, he fell right back into it, all too easily.

Bunce and I do our best to help him, of course - Offering our companionship, or dragging him outside with us for some fresh air (I’d even considered spelling him with a ‘Cheer up, buttercup’ a few times). But realistically, there is little that we can do. He’s traumatised. He’s hurting. And all the magic and good intentions in the world can’t soothe his pain (As much as I wish they could).

I try not to beat myself up over it, but it’s hard sometimes. I know I do all that I can, but my best efforts just aren’t good enough. They don’t make him happy. They don’t take away his hurt. I don’t know how to help him. So … I’m as good as useless to him now.

Hauling himself over, he scowls at me. His eyes flat and ringed with red - The light behind them having dimmed, long ago.

“For fuck’s sakes, Baz!” He gruffs. “Can’t you just leave me alone? I’m trying to sleep.”

He gets snappy like this, sometimes - When he's let himself stew in his feelings for too long. But it's alright. He always apologises afterwards, when the haze has cleared. And I’m not exactly above losing my temper, either - So I have no real reason to complain.

“I know, and I’m sorry but … I wanted to do something with you. Something time dependent. It’s already nine PM, and I really can't wait much longer, love."

“Yeah well, you’re the one who woke me up at seven AM, to go and buy you blood from the fucking New Forest, when there’s a perfectly good butcher down the road! You know don’t mind getting you what you need, but that was seriously taking the piss! So forgive me for being a little sleepy!"

I gulp, guilt prickling in my stomach.

I knew he was mad about that, but I’d hoped that he’d have forgiven me by now - Considering that I'd already let him take my car, and supplied him with a, frankly, outrageous amount of chocolate, as a sorry. Because while it is true that I sent him on a three and a half hour round trip back to Hampshire (under the false pretense that the blood there tastes better because it’s ‘free range’), I really didn’t do it to be a prat. I only did it to get him out of the house for a while, so that I could whip up a batch of his beloved sour cherry scones, without causing suspicion. And while there were probably less infuriating methods of Simon Snow removal, I really couldn’t think of any at the time - So I had to make do.

I just hope that when all is revealed he can find it in himself to forgive me.

“I know,” I sigh. “And I do appreciate it. I didn’t mean to take advantage, it just … really is better.”

Dropping his shoulders, his face twists with remorse as he reaches upwards, pawing at his neck roughly. For Crowley’s sakes, now I’ve gone and made him feel worse! Just brilliant.

“Okay,” he mumbles. “I’m just … tired. Sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s alright, I understand. I’m sorry too - For waking you up. But … if it’s alright with you, I’d still like to take you out tonight. I've got somewhere special in mind.”

“Why?” he asks, suspicious. “What’s so special about tonight?”

"You don't get any clues, Snow," I chide. "That'll only spoil the surprise. But, if you come with me, then I can show you. It'll be just us two, so you don't have to worry about getting dressed up, or anything like that. And ... you don't have to come at all, if you're not feeling up to it. But you may end up liking it, if you do.”

Gnawing at his lip, he tugs at the hem of his shirt, awkwardly.

“No. I just - I haven’t - I need to, like … get ready. I haven’t … showered. Or done my teeth."

As painful as it is to admit, that doesn’t really surprise me. He struggles to take care of himself, sometimes. I don’t know if it’s just because he forgets, or the effort feels too insurmountable, or … what? All I know is that he does. (I’m convinced that if Bunce and I didn’t keep him so well loaded with takeaways that he'd forget to eat half of the time). So, with a wordless shrug of agreement, I slide myself down onto the sofa besides him to wait (Clearly he’s rubbing off on me).

————————————————————————————

“Is this it?” he asks, as we pull into the carpark.

He’s been jittery the whole ride here - His leg bouncing nervously, and his bottom lip ruddied where he’s been chewing at it. Like he thinks that this is all some elaborate ruse.

“Well no,” I say, smirking over at him, as I undo my seatbelt. “This is a carpark, Snow. I had something a little nicer than this in mind, don’t you worry. I just need to go and set it up, first.”

“Set it up?”

“Don’t fret, you numpty. You can trust me. It’s nothing sinister.”

Chuckling quietly, I reach forwards - Pressing my hand against his knee, in what I hope is a reassuring gesture.

“Alright,” he murmurs, wriggling out of my touch, curtly (He still isn’t sure about me touching him sometimes - Says it makes him feel trapped). “Be quick then”.

I’m as quickly as I can manage (Although I definitely spend slightly too long fussing with my decorations). And soon enough, I’m pulling a blindfolded Snow behind me, our hands slotted together, loosely, as we stumble across the grass. The rough warmth of his skin against mine sending my heart aflutter.

“Baz,” he coughs, his voice creeping with uncertainty. “Seriously, where are you taking me?”

“We’re in St James Park, Snow. We’ve been here before. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“But … It’s late. What if we get mugged or something?”

“If someone tries to mug us, then I’m sure you’ll scare them off with a cocktail stick sword, or something. And if worst comes to worst, you pack a mean punch. Either way, you’ll save us,” I shrug.

Puffing out a slight laugh, he presses our palms a little closer together.

“So … cocktail sticks. We’re having a picnic then?”

“Hush, you,” I scold, miffed. “No more guessing. We’re almost there, so just wait and see, you impatient brute."

Pulling us to a stop, I falter. Looking at it with fresh eyes, it’s a lot. It’s an awful lot.

Besides a large willow on the edge of the lake, I’ve created a wonderful spread for us - All of his favourite foods sat in a wicker basket, in the centre of Bunce’s picnic blanket.

For aesthetic appeal, I’ve surrounded our space with an assortment of candles, held firmly in place with a ‘Stay Put’ (Since I imagine that setting ourselves alight would probably kill the mood). And I’ve spelled the raindrops, still clinging to the damp grass reeds, iridescent with a ‘Twinkle in their eye’. The glow of the flames dancing, ethereally, in their newly mirrored surface, so that the ground comes alive with a million watery fireflies.

But I want this. I want us to have this. So there’s really no benefit to backing down now.

“Alright,” I drawl, reluctantly dropping his hand, and taking a few steps away from him. “You can look now.”

Urgently, he reaches upwards, tugging the makeshift blindfold from his eyes, and taking it all in. His face transforming into some shade of panicked horror, immediately. Merlin and Morgana. Curse my flare for the dramatics! It’s definitely too much.

“Baz. Wh - What is all of this?” he stammers.

Tense, I twirl a lock of hair between my fingers, in a hopeless attempt to focus on anything other than what a massive cock up this whole evening has been.

“Well … I wanted to show you the stars.”

“The stars?”

“Yes, Snow,” I bite. “The stars. You know, the little twinkly things in the sky.”

I shouldn’t do that - The being rude to him. But for some reason it still seems to be my default defense setting.

“I know - I know what a star is. I mean … why?”

“Two years ago, today. Back at Watford. 'Twinkle, twinkle little star' … Ring any bells?”

“Oh,” he breathes.

“Yes. ‘Oh’,” I copy, my voice softening significantly. “I just - I wanted to repay the favour. I know that we had the truck in America. And, I know that this isn’t quite the same as the original. But … it’s the best I could do. We aren’t all supernovas, you know.”

“Yeah … No. I mean … it’s nice. I just - I don’t know.”

It isn’t at all convincing, but I do my best to let his slither of praise ground me.

Hesitantly, I step forwards, holding out my hand to him, in offering. He doesn’t take it this time, so I let it flop, grimly, to my side.

“Simon, we can go home if you’d prefer,” I try. “It was just an idea. Nothing an 'As you were' can’t fix.”

He gawks at me like I’ve sprouted another head (Which is ironic considering that he’s the one with the dragon appendages).

“No. I want to look at the stars,” he rejects, jutting his jaw out, determinedly. “I just don’t really … deserve it. I didn’t even, like … realise. I mean, how do you even know the date of that?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. “If you seriously don’t think you’re worthy of cheap finger foods and Fanta, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to revive some of my more creative Watford insults, because that is idiotic. You do deserve it. This and more.”

Staring down at the ground, as if ashamed, he tugs his lips upwards into a weak smile.

“And I only remembered the date because, at the time, I thought that, that was all we would ever get. That it was the closest we’d ever be to what I really wanted. So … I clung to every detail. It’s horrifically embarrassing, really. And painfully sappy. But … there we are. I didn’t expect you to remember, though. So please don't worry that you didn’t,” I reassure.

We’re slightly better at this now - The talking.

We had a huge fight in the toilets at Heathrow after America (Since there really was no point in pretending that I didn’t know what he was trying to do on that beach), that basically boiled down to ‘You never tell me things’ ‘Well, you never tell me, either’. So, we’ve been working on being a little more open with our communication, since then. I try to be honest and tell him how I feel (However humiliating it may be), and he does the same.

It’s clunky and unnatural, and it doesn’t always work (Obviously). But we’re trying. So it’s a start.

We haven’t gotten onto any of the more ‘heavy’ stuff just yet - The state of our relationship, the Mage, how afraid I am, how sad he is. Mostly we’ve just started fessing up to small things from our past - Like how lovelorn I was at Watford, or why he ditched his therapist. But, it’s only been a month. We stick to the past, right now, because the present is too painful (And I don’t really want to hear him say we have no future). But there’s hope. There’s a spark. There’s effort. So maybe one day we’ll get there.

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice noticeably strained. “Then … let’s do it. I want to stay.”

I grin, despite myself, and gesture towards the blanket.

“After you, Snow.”

————————————————————————————

“Holy shit,” he laughs, holding a hand out in front of his smile in an attempt to hide the mush of scone in his mouth. It doesn’t work, but I don’t really care (I’m disturbed). “They taste just like Watford’s. How the hell did you make these? Or did you steal them from Prichard?”

Biting down a smile, I arch my eyebrow up at him. Bright and smiling, he tries to copy me - Both of his eyebrows jumping upwards, clumsily. And I wish that I could tell him how amazing it is to hear him laugh again, but I don’t want to risk upsetting him. He’d probably just take it to mean that I only like him when he’s happier, which is just objectively untrue. I’d like him however he is.

“Oh please, petty theft is below a Pitch,” I breeze.

“Then how?”

“I bribed her with enough Champagne to bring down a Dragon, and she gave me the recipe. It was really very simple, Snow. I’m surprised you didn’t manage it yourself”

“What? Seriously?” he beams, the corners of his eyes crinkling, charmingly. “How much did it take? I offered her, like, half of my Goblin Gold for it, and she still wouldn’t budge!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. My bank probably thinks that I have a severe drinking problem now, but no matter. It’s worth it to see you smile.”

Darting his eyes downwards, his face flushes with heat.

“Penny would spell you silent if she heard you saying such sickly things, you know,” he complains, scrunching up his nose in disgust.

It’s all fake, though. I know he doesn't really mean it. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he loves it when I’m soft with him. One whispered 'Love' or 'Simon' is enough to make him melt, even now. It used to be enough to get him to kiss me too, but not anymore (Practically nothing is). Although I don’t really care - It’s still incredibly endearing.

“Oh I don’t doubt it. But, look … Bunce isn’t here. I’ve managed to lure you up here all alone, so I’m free to be as saccharine as I please, I'm afraid."

“Whatever,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Ah yes - Being nice to my boyfriend. Truly, I am a freak,” I tease. “Just … lay down, you nightmare.”

“Lay down?”

“Yes. It’s a very simple instruction, Snow” I deadpan, flopping myself back down onto the blanket, with a puff of laughter.

“Yeah but … why?”

“Because ... unless everything has gone loopy, the stars that I brought you out here to see are above you. So lie down and look. I’m not going to jump you, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” he says, carefully resting himself down on the blanket. “If you say so.”

————————————————————————————

He’s tucked up against me now, staring up at the stars, happily - His head resting, heavily, against my outstretched arm, and his right leg draped over mine. It’s a little uncomfortable, to be honest, but I daren’t tell him. He’d only move away, and I so desperately want him to stay.

Pointing up at a the sky above us, I draw his attention to a particular cluster of stars, and can't help but wonder whether they're the same ones that filled our room, or hung above us in America - Or if even they have changed, too.

“That one is Aries,” I explain. “The Ram constellation.”

“I don’t see anything,” he whines, pouting out his lips, childishly.

Rolling my eyes, I grab a hold of his hand and pull out his ring finger, directing it’s point to trace the stars’ outline.

“That’s just a random line.”

“Nope. It’s a Ram ... Although, I will admit that the resemblance is a little tenuous.”

He turns to me, smiling brightly, and my heart clenches at the sight of him, so close and carefree.

“It’s a line, and you know it,” he chuckles. “How do you even know so much about stars, anyway? They all look the same to me.”

“We have a couple of astronomy books back in our home library. My mother liked to stargaze,” I say, waving dismissively. “And … they remind me of you, so I like learning about them.”

“They remind you of me?”

“Yes. All of your moles are like constellations. I’ve always thought so. And, obviously, that night with the stars only reinforced the link.” God, I’m disgustingly sappy. How can he bear it?

“I see,” he sings, snuggling his head down against my chest. “Well … thank you for showing me.”

We lay together for a while, like that - His head moving with each rise and fall of my chest, and my shirt scrunched up in his fists. We don’t talk about all that much - just chatter about university and the new Nordic bakery Simon found just off of the Golden Square - but it’s nice. It’s normal. It’s us.

Smoothing a hand down his waist, I take a deep breath, readying myself for what’s next.

“Simon -” I start, my voice barely a whisper (Talking at full volume amongst the fragile calm that has settled between us feels far too disruptive).

“Hmm,” he hums, the vibration of his voice tickling against my skin.

“I need to tell you something. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

Instantly, I feel his body stiffen, every muscle pulled taut with tension.

“It’s nothing bad,” I reassure. “Or … I don’t think so, anyway.”

“What then?” he asks, looking up at me, his brow knotted with nerves.

“I just … I Love you.”

And with those three words, he pulls himself away from me, once again. Yanking his arms backwards, and wrapping them around himself in a defensive self-hug, as he shifts away.

“Simon?” I call, uncertain. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer; just yanks at his curls and shakes his head no. Fucking Hell. I’ve really messed up now.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … ruin things. I just wanted you to know. Please don’t - it’s alright.”

“No, Baz,” he trembles.

“No, what?”

“It’s not - I just - I don’t -”

Stumbling over his words, he jabs the heels of his palm into his eye sockets, in frustration. And I cringe, involuntarily, at the sight of it. It must hurt.

“Just … take your time, love,” I ease.

He sniffs, pitifully, then, and I think he may be crying. I’m on the verge, too - My throat thick with regret, and my eyes stinging, warningly - but I hold it in. Just. Crying would only make this worse, and it really doesn’t need to get any worse. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have forced my love upon him.

Hanging his head forwards, he gives himself a moment to recollect his faculties - His breath thick and shaking.

I wait, silently - Counting the stars above me in an attempt to ease my mind. Knowing that he’ll speak when he can - When he finds the words.

And sure enough, picking at the grass beneath him, he finally does - Sobbing and broken though they may be: “I just … don’t understand how you can anymore?”

“Understand how I can what?”

“How you can, like … love me.”

My heart clenches at the sound of him, so earnest and afraid. Of course. Even after everything we’ve been through - Even after all I’ve told him - he still can’t see that I do. Still can’t believe that I do. And it’s my fault, I know. I haven’t managed to tell him properly before now. Not in a way that he believed. Not in a way that he could let in and hold onto. I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve just dropped my pride and told him outright and simple, rather than messing about with poetics. I should’ve told him months ago. Years ago! I’ve known for long enough. All I needed to do was let him hear it. But I didn’t. And now it’s too late.

Helplessly, I reach out, cupping the softness of his jaw with my hand, and turning him to face me. He resists, slightly, but lets me do it. He refuses to meet my eyes, though - Staring down at the floor, blankly, a teardrop hanging from the tip of his nose.

“Simon, listen to me. I’ve loved you for years. There’s plenty of reasons why I can, and do … I love your kindness. I love your morality. I love your bravery. I love your stubbornness. I love your fierceness. I love your smile. I love your heart. I love your mind. I love getting to spend time with you. I love how when we sleep, you always leave a light on for me because you know, even though I’m too proud to admit it, that I don’t like the dark. Or how … you always leave me a bit of your food for me to try -”

He’s staring at me intensely now, his eyes squinted and scanning across my face.

“- I could wax poetic about all the parts of you that I cherish forever, if need be. But, to keep it simple, I love everything about you. Even if you don’t … necessarily understand it, it’s the truth. You just need to believe me. You need to trust me. I loved you then, and I love you now. Nothing has changed, in that respect.”

“I’m a disaster,” he mumbles, looking away, his brow furrowed, and deep, frowning creases forming besides his mouth.

“I’ll give you that,” I smile, hoping to lift the mood. “But I love disasters.”

“Baz,” he huffs, planting his head in his hands. “I’m being serious.”

“Hey, look at me -” He doesn’t. “- So am I. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“But, I - I mean, I can’t even do it back, properly. It’s not that I don’t - Don’t, like, you know. I just … I can’t do this properly. I thought, at the start, that maybe I could. But I can’t. We’ve been together for ages now, and all I’ve done in that time is be an absolutely terrible boyfriend to you! Even by my standards.”

“Well, you did try to warn me,” I joke, shuffling slightly closer to him. “But … you’re not a terrible boyfriend, Simon. Don’t be unfair to yourself. This is good. You are good. And … after all, I’m the one who sent you on a pointless trip to the New Forest this morning. So, I reckon, if anyone is a terrible boyfriend right now, it’s me.”

“But you - I mean, you deserve better,” he whispers. “I’m not enough for you, anymore. I don’t think I ever was, really. You’re … you, and I’m just me.”

“You’re more than good enough for me, you halfwit,” I scold, softening my tone “Simon, you’re everything I want.”

“No, but … look around us. You did all of this, and I … I haven’t done anything.”

“Oh, hush! You’ve done plenty. You’ve given me more than I ever could’ve hoped for. Even if you don’t see it.”

“But that’s the point!” he groans, yanking at his curls. “You should want more than that! What little I do, isn’t good enough. You’re just clinging onto when things were alright! But they’re not anymore, don’t you see?!”

I stare at him blankly, trying to figure him out. Why he can’t just accept what I’m saying, I’ll never know.

“Look … I’ll admit that things between us have been a little difficult, as of late. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, or that somehow you’re not ‘good enough’ for me. I want you however you are. And sure, I'd love if things were a little easier - For you, and for me. But there’s no rush.”

“Things have been 'difficult' for months now, Baz!” he cries, his voice bitter and defeated. “I’m so sick of lying to myself, and pretending that I’m going to get my happy ending. My head went wrong long ago! At this point it’s best if we just cut our losses, and accept that I’m unfixable.”

I clench my eyes shut, pained. The utter hopelessness in his voice, a bitter pill to swallow.

“You’re not 'unfixable', Simon. You don’t even need to be 'fixed'. Just … Listen to me,” I plead. “I understand why we are where we are, and I don’t mind. We just need to … work through it. What happened to you - I mean, Merlin, it’s your whole life! The Mage was despicable. He used you. He abused you. He stole your entire childhood, without even a second of thought over what it might do to you! But … what happened at White Chapel was awful. You shouldn't have had to watch that. But, it's so much more than that - Than him. It's everything. All the instability of your early years. The Humdrum. All the killing and the fighting. Whatever happened to you and Bunce at the end of term. How the Coven just … ditched you. Christ, even me, Snow! I mean, I wasn’t exactly compassionate towards you at Watford, was I? I tormented you. I just … everything that happened - That kind of trauma doesn’t just vanish overnight. It takes time. And I know that you’ve been told that a million times before, and you’re probably fed up of hearing it, but it’s true. It’s fine that you’re not … fine, right now. I don’t expect you to be. I don’t need you to be.”

Turning away, he shakes his head.

“But it's not,” he protests, his voice whining. “I’m no good to you like this. I’m no good to anyone, anymore. I’m not some superhero. I’m not some supernova. I’m just … nothing. I’m a burden - To you and Penny. All you do is go to uni and babysit me! And, we still haven’t … I mean, I can hardly ever even be kissed without getting all weird! What kind of fucked up boyfriend am I?”

“There’s more to life than snogging, Snow,” I chastise. “I enjoy your company, whether we’re doing … those sorts of things, or not. I’m not babysitting you, I’m spending time with you. And you’re not a burden. Needing help doesn’t make you some kind of problem. You’re our friend. You’re my - We want to help you.”

“Yeah, but … I just want to be normal again. I just want it to all be simple. This is - I’ve ruined this.”

“Not true,” I argue. “This isn’t ruined. You just … keep focussing on what we don’t have, rather than what we do.”

Reaching across the blanket, I grab a hold of his hand - Tracing my fingertips over the rough calluses there.

“This-” I enunciate, squeezing his palm for emphasis. “Is a lot more than we had two years ago. Nothing is ruined, it’s just, perhaps, not exactly what we’d expected.”

“Yeah but … it’s a lot less than we had when we first left Watford. I used to be able to … do it all properly. I don’t know what happened. I thought - I mean, it’s not your fault. I don’t know why I can’t just … do it.”

“I know -” I sigh.

Because he does have a point. Simon never really liked to be touched first - To feel pressured. But it used to be manageable. We could hug. We could kiss. Sometimes we’d even end up snogging on the sofa, for the better part of an hour. And as long as he was in control for the majority of the time, he could surrender himself to luxuriating in my affections, occasionally.

Nowadays though, even a chaste kiss on the cheek feels incredibly risky, so I rarely try to initiate anything. It’s better to let him decide when we can or can’t. There’s no need for me to be greedy about it.

And while I cannot deny that I miss it - being able to be close to him, in that way - I don’t mind. Not really. My whole life has been a practise in maintaining control over ‘powerful’ urges (Both Snow and non-Snow related), so I’ve had plenty of of experience in holding myself back. Screw the erotic gropefest that teenage me had always envisioned! As long as he’s comfortable, and he still wants this, then I’m happy to give or withhold whatever he needs. Being a little touch starved won’t kill me, but losing him probably would.

“- I understand that it’s frustrating, really I do. But … sometimes you have to take five steps backwards for each step forwards. And I appreciate that it hurts, but as long as you keep on walking, you’ll get where you need to be, eventually. If we carry on trying (And I mean really, actively trying), then I’m sure things will get a little easier for us soon, love. But you need to give it time. You need to give yourself time … That’s just the arduous nature of progress, I’m afraid.”

Sticking out his tongue in a fake vomiting gesture, he laughs - A little hushed and wet, but genuinely amused, nonetheless.

“Fucking hell! Don’t be so grim, Baz. You sound like a therapist!”

“Yes, well … there is a reason people pay to go and see therapists, you know.”

Rolling his eyes, he shoves his hands into my chest, jokingly.

“Yeah, and there’s a reason I stopped going to mine, smart-arse. Too much of that sort of crap!”

“I know, I know,” I laugh, wearily - Not trusting this brief flickering of emotional relief. “I don’t mean to be all preachy - God knows you probably won’t listen, anyway! But, as disgustingly cliche as it may be, it’s true.”

He pauses, sucking in a shaking breath.

“I know, but - I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t everything, Baz!” he explains, utterly exhausted. “I mean you just - And I didn't … you know, do it back. I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin it, it’s fine. You don’t have to say it back, Simon. That wasn’t the point. I just wanted you to know. I wasn’t counting on reciprocation. I don’t need that from you, it’s alright.”

“It’s not ‘alright’, Baz!” he snaps. “None of this is alright! Just … stop saying that! You always say that!

“But it is alright,” I assert, leaning towards him slightly. “I’m only saying it because I mean it! I didn’t intend to make you feel … obligated. I seriously didn’t expect you to say it back, or for it to be some huge ‘thing’. I’ve just … never managed to tell you, properly, and after America -” After seeing him lying there on the ground, lifeless and beaten, his wings twisted and covered in blood. As good as dead. “- I just needed for you to know. Everything is perfectly fine, I promise. I don’t care that you didn’t - I’m not upset by how you responded, Snow.”

“Well you bloody well should expect me to say it back! You should care! That’s the whole point! You’re supposed to want things from me. You’re supposed to expect things from me. You’re not just supposed to sit there and take whatever bullshit I give you, and keep on telling me that everything is fine and dandy, Baz!”

“I do ‘want’ things from you, Snow,” I sigh. “I just want them to be on your terms, when you’re ready. There’s nothing wrong with being accommodating. And … I’m only telling you it’s fine because it is! Just because something is somewhat positive, doesn’t make it a lie - You only think that it does. And, I’m sorry but … you’re wrong. I don’t mind that you aren’t ready to say it back - Whether it’s because you’re unsure of how you feel, or you don’t want to, or you just can’t. I want you to say it when you want to - Not before. I wanted to say it now, so I did. If you don’t, then don’t. Simple!”

He growls at that, just like he used to do when I’d insult him. Except this time I really don’t understand that objection.

“But - even if that’s true, it isn’t just that!”

“Then what?” I ask, exasperated.

I don’t mean to lose my temper with him, and I don’t really think I am (Not quite yet), but … I’m tired of arguing with him over even the smallest things. Everything I do is wrong. If I’m kind, he doesn’t believe me or accuses me of ‘babying’ him. If I snap, he takes whatever cruel thing that comes out of my mouth as my ‘true’ thoughts. If I hide my wants away, he has a problem with it. If I tell him, I’m pressuring him. All I do is lose. And while I know that I’m the one to blame, for being unable to figure out how to best be what he needs, I just wish that it would stop. I just wish that we could fix it. But we can’t. We don’t know how.

“Well, like … I see the look in your eyes when I pull away, or I shove you off, or I snap at you, or when I just … lay there. It’s like - You’re so sad, but you never say! And … I know that it’s my fault, but I can’t seem to stop myself from doing it, and I don’t know why! I don’t want to do it. I just - I just want to be normal again. And I want you to stop lying and saying everything is fine, when it clearly isn’t.”

“Snow, I’m not lying to you! I’m telling you that it’s fine because it genuinely is! How many times do I have to go over this? I don’t understand the problem.”

“The problem is that I just - I don’t believe you,” he huffs.

“But why not? I wouldn’t lie to you. I just … wouldn’t.”

“Because … it just - it means nothing to me, anymore, Baz! You got beaten down so many times in America, and all you did was keep on telling me that everything was fine, and reassuring me, and swearing that you were happy, when anybody who was paying attention could tell that you weren’t! So … how am I supposed to believe you when you tell me it’s alright now? How do I know you’re not just telling me what you think I want to hear, because you’re too afraid of me to tell me the truth?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Snow,” I drone. “I could drain you dry in a half a second, if I wanted to.”

And of course my insistence on being a petulant little git doesn’t help the situation at all - Only adding fuel to the, already, engorged fire. But it’s too late to take it back, now - So I let my little dig steep in the space between us. Rotten and unnecessary.

“Not like that,” he groans. “You know I don’t mean it like that! Don’t be such a dick! I just mean, like … it’s like you’re afraid of hurting me. You think that I can’t take the truth, so you keep on hiding it away from me, but you’re wrong. I can take the truth! I want the truth! I’m not - I’m not made of butterfly wings, and it pisses me off when you treat me like I am!”

“I don’t mean to … treat you differently,” I explain, taken aback. “I just don’t want to … pressure you, or make some idiotic mistake that’ll mess things up. But when I tell you things are fine, I’m not doing it to spare your feelings, I’m doing it because I mean it! All I’m doing is telling you the truth. I mean, what would you rather me do, Simon? You haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m perfectly fine, so what else is there? What, I mean - Do you want me to get mad at you over nothing? Because I'm telling you right now, I won't do it."

We’re both heated now - jaws clenched and words spat. And it’s just like old times, but it aches. It aches so bad. There’s no rivalry here, no facade, and no game. It’s just us - Fighting because we don’t know what else to do. And it’s so painfully real - so painfully vulnerable - that it near shatters my heart.

Tonight was supposed to be a relief, not a rematch. But here we are, once again - Right where neither of us wants to be.

“At least then I’d know you’re not being fake, just to protect me, or whatever it is you think you’re doing!”

And with that, he jumps up, and stomps over to the edge of the lake - Sitting himself down in the mud, away from me. End of conversation. End of argument. But there's no point backing down now. If we're going to do this, then we may as well do it properly, and get this whole catastrophe over with ASAP. So I trail after him, helplessly.

Dropping myself down besides him, the words come tumbling out before I can stop them - So desperate and broken. My mask well and truly dissolved.

“Simon, I’m not like that, anymore. You know that. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“No, Baz,” he whines. “I shouldn’t have - I know that you don’t want that. Neither do I. I just mean that … you’re allowed to, like, complain. You’re allowed to fight back. You’re allowed to tell me when I’m being a prat - Or when I’ve hurt you. None of that would make you a bad person. None of that would put us back where we were. All it would mean is that I know what you’re feeling. What you’re really feeling. I want to know. Even if you think I don’t.”

“You know what I’m feeling,” I plead. “I keep on telling you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, apparently unconvinced.

“Only sometimes. And half the time you ‘telling me’ is just you saying you’re fine when you’re not. I know it is. You’re hard to read, but even you slip sometimes,, and I can tell that I’ve hurt you, or that something is bothering you, but you just … don’t say.”

“No, but … even if things aren’t necessarily great, I’m still fine. I’m still okay. I’m still happy. I’m not lying to you, Simon. What would be the point?”

“I don’t - I mean, I don’t think you are ‘lying’, exactly. I just - I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m calling you a liar. I know you wouldn’t … do that. But I think, maybe, you honestly do think you’re fine (Which is why you say that you are), when you’re not really.”

“What?” I ask, glancing over at him. “I’m not sure that I understand what you mean. Can you - Can you explain?”

“I don’t know, Baz,” he winces. “I just - I’ve been speaking to Penny … about you.”

Shifting himself forwards, slightly, he stares, expressionless, in front of him - His gaze a thousand miles from where we are. And I wait for him to elaborate, but it doesn’t come.

“Okay,” I drawl. “And what did Bunce have to say exactly?”

“Um, well … I, like, tried to explain to her what I think you’re doing - You know, when she pulled me out for one of her ‘chats’. And I mean, don’t worry - I didn’t tell her any detail about your personal business, or anything. I just wanted her to help me understand. And … she said that you sound like you’re in … denial.”

“‘Denial’,” I repeat, confused (And, perhaps, a little defensive). “In denial about what?”

“How you are,” he explains. “I just mean … I think she has a point. I don’t think you’re, like … normal.”

Finally, he looks over at me, and I raise an eyebrow in question - Unsure of what to say.

“Shit. Not like that,” he moans. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. I’m just - I’m not good with my words. I just mean that ... while, you may be better on the outside, I think that inside, you’re just as bad as me.”

I pause for a moment, unsteady, trying to find my words. But, unhelpfully, the only one that my brain seems to be capable of supplying right now is ‘Fine’. Maybe they do have a point, after all.

“Snow,” I huff. “You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t want you to. I’m perfectly normal … mentally.”

“But you would say that! I really don’t think that you are, though. You’ve never been fine. Not the whole time I’ve known you, Baz.”

“That’s not true,” I insist. “I. Am. Fine.”

He looks at me like it’s a lie; but it’s not. I mean it. And while I will concede that perhaps I’ve had a few moments of … concern, compared to him I’m golden. He’s the priority right now, not me. Because despite whatever may have happened in the past, I’m fine now. I can cope. Whereas he … well, I’m not sure that he can.

“Then what was that night in the forest about? Hm?” He challenges.

I steel, suddenly - His words suffocating my body.

We both know what was happening in the forest that night, but we’ve never actually spoken about it properly (There was no need to - I coped). I was overwhelmed and I acted a little … rashly. A moment of weakness - Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not like I’d ever try to do it again.

“That was a blip,” I dismiss.

He scoffs - Dull and unamused. “You can hardly call that a ‘blip’, Baz. I mean ... what if I wasn’t there. What would you have done? -”

I don’t answer him, because I can’t. I don’t know for sure what I would have done. Maybe I would’ve … gone through with it. But maybe I would’ve snapped out of it - I always had before.

Mercifully, though, he spares me the discomfort of having to reply.

“- And even if it was a ‘blip’ (Which it isn’t), what about the night I found you in the catacombs? Or all the nightmares? Or all your family stuff? Or how stressed you get about school - How hard you push yourself? Or the whole vampire thing? Or everything that happened with … Lamb?”

I cut him off before he can continue (Since I really don’t need a list of all things I’ve been weak enough to let my hurt show over). “I’ve told you there was nothing with Lamb. He convinced me that he could help. And I was playing a part, just like I was supposed to - I didn’t mean to make it sound like …”

“I know,” he sighs. “I didn’t mean like that. I know that. I just meant - I mean, I could tell that you were beating yourself up over it - over what he’d done - but … you were only trying to help us find Agatha. You couldn’t have known.”

“Okay.”

“But … that wasn’t my point. Specifics don’t really matter. My point was that … you’re not ‘fine’. And I know that … I’m not either. But, I just wish that you didn’t feel like you have to pretend to be perfect and unbothered all the time, because of me. You should be able to get help, too. You should be able to … feel whatever it is that you’re feeling, without panicking about someone else seeing.”

“So … you’re saying that, really, we’re just as bad as one another?”

“Sort of. I mean … it’s not, like, a contest, or something. I just meant that, maybe, we’re both not exactly one hundred percent.”

I laugh, bitterly. “We match.”

“We match,” he echoes, nodding his head.

“But even if what you’re saying has some merit -”

“Which it does!” he interrupts.

Glaring over at him, I roll my eyes, but don’t object.

“- Which maybe it does. I don’t understand why you’re bringing it up now. How I am is irrelevant to my little ... confession. And it doesn’t affect my ability to be honest with you?”

“Okay,” he breathes. “Just … let me try to explain, then.”

“Okay,” I nod. “Go ahead, Snow. I’m listening.”

“I’m bringing it up now because … I don’t want you to hide yourself away from me, anymore. It’s getting us nowhere. I just want - I mean, I want you to try and … not to do that. If you want something, ask. If I’ve upset you, say. If I’m being unreasonable, let me know. Don’t just … sit there and take it because you think it’s the noble thing to do, Baz. Please. I know that I … do the same sort of thing sometimes, but I don’t want you to, as well. I just - I don’t know how to tell what’s real or what’s just something you’re doing to try and be kind - Or to, like, protect yourself, I guess?”

I gawp over at him, chest heaving unsteadily.

He definitely has a point. I’ve been walking on eggshells around him for months. Carefully skirting around all that I want - all that I feel - in an attempt to stop it from consuming me. From consuming us. Convinced that it would destroy us both - Everything inside of me far too large, and hungry, and frightening, to handle.

“I just think that, if I know that you’re being … open with me, then it will be easier for me to believe you. To … believe all the nice things that you say or do, rather than questioning why you’re doing them. Whether it’s ‘cause you want to, or ‘cause you think it’s because that’s what I need from you in the moment, or ‘cause now’s the only ‘safe’ time to do it. I know … you’re not lying when you say you’re okay, but I think maybe you’re oversimplifying things, or, like, hiding the bad bits of how you feel. I just … if you say instead, it might help us. You won’t have to be so … frightened. And I might find it easier to accept what you say at face value, you know? I don’t know … maybe it’s stupid.”

Exhaling, he stares down at the floor, gnawing at his bottom lip, anxiously - His words heavy on my mind.

And, swallowing my pride, I speak - My voice crackling with emotion: “It’s not stupid. It makes sense, I - understand where you’re coming from. And, given that, I promise that I’ll ... try to be a little more forthcoming about how I’m feeling - More accurately descriptive. Even if it isn’t, necessarily, what I think you might want to hear.”

“Really?” he asks, disbelieving.

“Really.”

“Good,” he says, lips sparking upwards into a faint smile at my offer.

“But … I’m somewhat apprehensive about it?” I break.

“‘Apprehensive’? Why?”

“Because I don’t want to end up accidentally pushing you further away from me. You’re already so … far, sometimes. Talking about how I feel really isn’t essential for me. I’ve always managed perfectly well without doing it, before -” He scrunches up his face, clearly objecting, but he let’s me continue uninterrupted, this time. “- I don’t mind being … cautious. I like being cautious. If I just blurt out every single thing I’m thinking or feeling, you may … get the wrong idea. And it’s not that everything I think about us is negative, or anything like that, it’s just … occasionally a little bleak. You already doubt that I’m committed to this - that I still want this - and I'm do everything I can to prove it to you, but I’m not sure that the message has gotten through to you. I want to stay. I want you to stay. I want us to be … together. And, I’m afraid that, if I’m entirely open, I may scare you away. That you’ll mistake my … desperation, for dissatisfaction or unhappiness, and think that I don’t want you. When I do."

He nods, understanding.

“The absolute last thing that I want to do, is to mess this up,” I continue. “And, I’m not entirely sure that what you’re asking for won’t end up doing that. I just … want you to be sure that this is really what you want, before we go ahead and commit to it.”

“I know,” he whispers, sliding closer to me and grabbing hold of my hands. “I don’t want any of that bad stuff to happen, either, but I’m sure that this is what I want. I want to try it. Avoiding how you feel isn’t helping either of us, but ... maybe this will.”

“You avoid things, too,” I argue. “I understand that you don’t want to seek professional help at this point, and that’s your prerogative - But you still refuse to talk to Bunce and I about how you’re feeling. How is that any different to what I’m doing? Surely that isn’t helping us, either?”

As the words pour out of my mouth, my stomach pangs with shame. I don’t know why I’m, seemingly, so keen on shifting the blame over to him. We were working towards a resolution, and none of this is his fault (I’ve never thought that it was his fault). But maybe I’m just too cowardly to admit that my attempts to help have only hindered us. Maybe I just don’t want to bear the viscous twisting of guilt alone. Or maybe I’m just an arsehole (It wouldn’t surprise me. As much as I try to be a ‘good’ person, I so frequently miss the mark. It’s a wonder somebody as righteous as Simon can even tolerate my presence, to be honest, yet alone enjoy it).

He doesn’t rise to the bait, though - Just sighs tiredly, and thunks his head down onto the edge of my shoulder.

“I know I do. And you’re right … that doesn’t help us, either. But - I promise to try and stop, if you do. I want to get better, Baz,” he chokes. “I want us to get better.”

Lulling my head over, I look at him - His Adam’s Apple bobbing, showily, and his boring blue eyes brimmed with tears. And, utterly overcome, I press a quick kiss to his hairline - Chaste and feather-light.

“I want that too,” I admit, mumbling against him. “So we can do it together. I’ll do my best to be open with you about the more … difficult things, and you do your best to reciprocate. Sounds simple enough.”

It really doesn’t, if I’m honest. It sounds about as much fun as pulling teeth. But if this is what he wants - if this is what he needs - then who am I to argue? Trying something is better than trying nothing, after all.

“With our track record, probably not,” he chuckles. “We really aren’t very good at this.”

“True,” I breath. “But I’ve always loved a challenge, Snow. Why’d you think I went after the one guy I couldn’t have?”

“Because you couldn’t help it,” he softens, pressing closer - The heat of his face against my chest, welcome in the dwindling temperature of night. “You’ve told me that much.”

“I know. But, Snow… if we’re going to do this, then I need you understand that whatever I say - whatever I think - I still like you as you are, right now. I still like us as we are, right now. I’d rather work with you through a rough patch, than lose you all together. I wouldn’t - I really wouldn’t be happy anywhere else. I choose you, Simon - However ‘you’ may be. Good or bad. Through thick and thin. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll … try to remember. And - I’m sorry … about today. I didn’t mean to mess it all up. I wanted to say it back, I just … panicked. I didn’t mean to - I never mean to ruin things. To ruin us. I really do want to be able to, like, love you properly … ‘Cause I do … love you. I - I love you, Baz.”

Endlessly pleased, I take his face into my fands, and turn him around gently - Meeting his eyes face-to-face. My heart soaring gleefully within my chest at the sight of him - His cheeks flushed and a sweetly shy smile spread across his face. Because there it is - Finally. It’s all out in the open now.

I love him and he loves me.

“You see that is more than ‘proper’ enough for me, Snow,” I beam, impossibly light. “So don’t go giving up on us yet. There will be plenty of time for us to figure out all of our … mess, later. But, I think that we’ve done more than enough talking for one day. So just … forget about all of that right now, and stay with me here. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice wobbling, slightly. “You - Do you wanna’ show me the stars again, then? I’ve forgotten which constellation is which, already.”

“Of course you have,” I laugh. “You’re a hopeless study, I’ve always said so. But yes - It would be my pleasure to reeducate you.”

And so, taking his shoulders in my hands, I roll us over so that he’s flat on his back - Holding myself up above him, and resting our foreheads together. Simon breaking into a smile, beneath me - Wide and bright and shining. And he’s a little bit of a mess - fat streaks of tears still staining his face, and his hair pulled into a wild matte - but it’s everything that I’d wanted. Everything that I’d hoped.

Simon Snow is beautiful when he’s happy.

“Just … one more thing.”

“Anything,” I smile, smoothing his hair backwards.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Basil ... you know what,” he coos.

And I do, so I give it to him without hesitation (We’ve already had more than enough of that):

“I love you, Simon Snow. Now and always.”

And he smiles … and smiles … and smiles.

#carry on #wayward son #snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #my fic

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