#Thomas was right to call you ‘Falling Star’ before the race | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ethan-torchio-angelo · 3 years ago

Text

Oh, love

Summary: It takes a year of trial and error, of love and heartbreak, for the two to finally realize there's no one else they'd rather be with. Or in which she becomes they're photographer for a summer tour and falls in love with the dark haired drummer.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: swearing, angst, sexual content

A/N: I just want to say a huge thank you to @ethanesimp for proofreading and hyping this fic up, thank you so much amore! This is the first piece I've written for any of the members of maneskin, and also the longest thing I've ever written! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

January

It’s a call in the middle of the day that begins it all. She’s been in a shoot all morning, running around snapping photos of a wanna-be teen idol. She’s been here many times, being hired to do promo shots for someone who never makes it farther than this. But this call, she knows it’s different. She’s heard the name, seen some videos, she knows this won’t be like the rest. She’s instructed to clear her schedule for the week and to be in Rome by the end of the day.

The cold air hits her as she leaves the building, suitcase and camera bag in hand. This is the moment she’s been waiting for since joining the company, the chance to become a permanent fixture instead of hopping from gig to gig. She’s told that they requested her specifically, that one of the band members saw her collection from a festival last summer and was dead set on booking her for their summer tour. It’s all new to her, the feeling of being the first choice and not second best. She barely hears anything that’s said on the plane by their manager, too busy trying not to freak out.

It’s only a few hours plane ride, but it feels like a lifetime. Thoughts run wild in her head as the seconds tick by, she can’t remember the last time she’d been this excited, or nervous, for something. She’s greeted by more people from their team as she steps off the plane, and is quickly ushered to the villa they’ve been staying in. She barely has time to process the beautiful new city she’s in before she’s hidden by walls of an even more beautiful place.

They give her time to relax and unpack, but clear instructions to not leave the property without security. Things have been crazy, she’s told, since their winning last year fans have become more clever with their tactics. She laughs at some of the stories, but heeds the warning all the same. She’s seen quite a few things that have shaken her to her core, so she knows to be careful and wary.

Music floats through the halls and into her room, the band practicing on the other side of the villa. The music fills her veins with a feeling she can’t quite place, but it’s a welcome humming that gets her blood pumping. She grabs her camera and follows the melodies, laughing at the jokes thrown around in english whenever someone messes up. She angles herself behind a corner just right where she can take pictures while still being hidden from the band.

Her heart races at the scene in front of her. It’s a family like she’s never seen. They all seem to orbit around each other, pushing and pulling each other into their atmospheres. She watches Victoria dance around the room, bass in hand, strumming the lines to an old song. Thomas lays on the floor with a notebook reading off words, Damiano repeating them as he draws on eyeliner. And Ethan, who sits at his drum set, twirling the drumsticks in his hand as he observes the scene before him.

She captures picture after picture of their dynamic, taking the most of Ethan, who seems to have a magnetic pull to him. She only pulls herself from the moment when she’s spotted. “Sai, qualcuno chiamerebbe questo strano comportamento.”

The words are warm against her ear, and she jumps at the unexpected presence. She turns around, laughing to hide her embarrassment, trying to translate the words in her head. She freezes when she sees it’s Ethan, trying to figure out when he slipped away from the rest of the group.

“Ah, niente italiano. Er, it’s unusual, what you are doing.”

Another nervous laugh leaves her lips, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be creepy. There’s something about the way the group is when no one is watching, it’s hard to ignore, it needed to be captured.”

He smiles at that. It’s soft and warm and she feels as if the world has stopped spinning. A song plays between their hearts as a silence falls over them. There’s a beauty about him that makes it hard to focus on anything but him.

A series of crashes followed by loud curses in Italian breaks the spell that they were under and Ethan pulls himself away from her to go and manage his friends. She uses this moment as an excuse to slip away and tour the rest of the house, ending in the kitchen where dinner is being prepared. She snaps a few photos of the chefs cooking, already envisioning the blog post they’ll go along with.

When everyone has made their way to the dining room a toast is made; to new adventures, to new friends, and to family. Sweet wine and light rain makes the time pass faster and the evening flows into night easily. The group parts only moments after midnight, long days ahead calling them to catch up on sleep now.

The month flows by with days and nights blurring together. It seems the studio is really the only place they call home, spending every waking moment in the room that houses their instruments. She stays with them through the long hours, snapping photos of the weird things they get themselves up to. Her hard drive slowly fills with collections of each band member, ones for the public eye and ones she sends to them to make them laugh.

The end of the month brings a party, something small to celebrate sold out tour dates. A night out to a local bar and far too many drinks. She dances with Victoria, who has become her best friend in the few weeks she’s been with them. Damiano and his girlfriend are not far away, but much more caught up in their own world. Thomas has disappeared somewhere, no doubt warming someone's bed for the night. But through all the commotion, she can’t stop watching Ethan.

He’s sitting at a table nursing the only drink he’s had that night, planning to take on the role of babysitter at the end of the night once everyones had too much to drink. He drums his fingers on the table, following the beat of each song that plays. He seems lost in his own world, content with being by himself. She moves away from Victoria, who easily finds another partner, and makes her way to the table.

“Sembri solo,” the words fall from her lips quietly as she takes a seat beside him.

He smiles at her, “Seems your little lessons are paying off.”

She blushes at that, not realizing he’d picked up on her daily lessons with their English tutor. “Only enough to not seem like a tourist.”

A small chuckle escapes his lips, and she wishes she could bottle the sound.

“But don’t change the subject. Tonight was about having fun, celebrating a big accomplishment. Yet you’re sitting here alone.”

He sighs at her insistence, “Sometimes we don’t need to celebrate everything so publicly.”

Something pulls at her heart. She can’t imagine having such a public life, but she understands how it must feel to never have anything to yourself. Before she knows what she’s doing, she places a hand on his arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze, a light tingle shooting between the two of them.

She pulls her hand away quickly, a small blush forming on both their cheeks. He offers her a small smile to make the moment less awkward, and she returns it.

The night ends not too much later, the rest of the crew having decided that warm beds would be much more comfortable than the crowded bar. She helps Ethan herd their friends home, laughing along with him at their drunken antics. Victoria jokingly calls them mom and dad as they help her to bed, and the blush that was plastered on her face earlier that night makes a second appearance.

It’s almost morning by the time she makes it to her own room. Ethan isn’t far behind her, realizing for the first time tonight that they share the same hallway. “Buona notte,” comes his voice from down the hall.

She turns to face him, catching herself stuck in his stare. She can’t quite place the look in his eyes, but it gives her butterflies all the same.

“Buona notte.”

February

February brings more time in the studio and less time outside the walls of the Villa. While winter in Rome is not like the ones you’d experience in colder places, it still brings a chill to her bones. She steals one of Victoria's sweaters after a night spent lounging under the stars, a small break from a busy schedule.

A fire had been lit and a bottle of sweet wine was making its way around the group. She’d set her camera aside for the evening, planning on enjoying a night without the calls of work. She doesn’t know when it happens, but suddenly she’s swaying to a drunken beat in the arms of Damiano who can’t stop giggling at her two left feet. The man had not believed her when she said she couldn’t dance, but was now biting his tongue as they moved around the courtyard.

As the night seemed to come to a lull, a game of truth or dare was proposed and all were in agreement. She finds herself sitting beside Thomas on the floor as Victoria begins the game, a stupid dare aimed towards Damiano that earns him a new haircut. The night drags on in a flurry of laughter and silly dares. By midnight half the group is wearing someone else’s clothes, and the others have barely any on.

She’s moved to be sitting by Ethan, who has an arm casually draped across her shoulder. It shouldn’t feel so electric, his skin touching hers, but it does and it’s the only thing she can focus on. Her heart feels like it’s almost beating out of her chest and the blush on her face isn’t caused by the alcohol in her system.

Damiano is the first to notice her situation, and starts poking fun at her whenever it was his turn to ask her something. It started off innocent enough, small questions aimed towards her love life, but it soon caught the attention of Thomas who was the first one to issue a dare towards the girl. This was how she’d ended up sitting beside Ethan, cuddled into his side. Ethan was oblivious to the things going on around them, until Victoria dared her to kiss him.

It seems as though time stops, the laughter fades and the silence becomes deafening. She turns towards Ethan, a mixture of panic and excitement painted on her face. He smiles at her, “We don’t have to, amore.”

“A dares a dare.” She shrugs at him.

A round of cheers raises up around them as the two lean in. It’s meant to be only a small peck, something good enough to count in the eyes of those around them. But as she goes to pull away his hand reaches up to tangle in her hair and he pulls her closer. Their lips meet again without any hesitation and it’s like the world lights up around them. Blame it on the alcohol, but if she were to die right now she’d be happy.

They pull away a second later, a small laugh leaving both of them, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm.

“Awe, they’re blushing! How cute!” Comes the voice of Damiano, further pulling a blush from the girl.

She grabs one of the pillows beside her and aims it at his head, laughing when she misses terribly.

The night fades into morning and they all climb to the roof to watch the sunrise. It’s a moment she wants tattooed in her memories forever. She’s got her arms wrapped around Victoria and the three boys huddle around them, alcohol still flows through their veins and they’re all singing different versions of the same song.

March

The beginning of spring in Rome is magical. Flowers start to bloom, mornings are coated in a light dusting of rain, and clothing starts to become less of a necessity. She takes photos of the band trapezing the streets. The Villa studio has become too familiar, moving instead to a studio in the city.

By now, a routine has been put in place. Mornings sipping coffee and eating fresh pastries while she laughs at the varying states of wake the band is in. Afternoons in the studio, recording their new album while she collects photos and videos for their ‘making of’. Evenings spent in restaurants and bars, eating some of the best food she’s ever had, and she swears she’ll never eat anything better.

She’s never fallen in love with a city like this before. Maybe it’s the city, or maybe it’s the people she’s with, but she swears she never wants to leave. It suffocates her in the best way possible, the feeling of being home. She hopes that when the tours over and her contracts up, that she’ll move here, maybe even keep these people she’s grown so close to in the past few months.

She’s thrown out of the daydream by Thomas yelling at her in a mix of italian and english for not paying attention. It’s the middle of the afternoon, they’ve taken a lunch break at a restaurant down the block, and Thomas is expressively telling a story. His hands are in the air and he’s almost knocked his wine glass over too many times to count.

Damiano sits across from her, fiddling with her camera, snapping his own photos that he presents to her proudly. She laughs at every one, but never discourages his actions. Victoria is on her left, Ethan on her right, both vying for her approval as they argue over something. She’s overwhelmed by the different directions her brain is being tugged, but the hand that snakes its way into hers calms her.

She looks down to see Ethan rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand, a soft smile grazing his lips as they make eye contact. She returns it, whispering a small thank you to the boy.

That night, she lays in bed, in the room she’s begun to finally call hers, thinking of the boy with stars in his eyes. She doesn’t know if it’s feeling like she finally belongs somewhere, or the wine that still coats her veins, but there’s something about him that she wishes she could become a part of. She wants to wrap herself in it and never leave. She’s falling for him, hard. Vaffanculo.

April

It is Victoria's birthday and everyone has decided that she must be princess for the day. Ethan and Damiano have been up since dawn making an extravagant breakfast, something that should be put in a five star restaurant. Her and Thomas had disappeared shortly after waking, returning with a stack of presents that was almost as tall as him, and the best bouquet of flowers she could find.

After decorating the patio with anything and everything they could find, it was a mad dash to Victoria's room to wake her up. She protested, claiming that sleep was more important than being awake, but at the mention of presents she was the first one out of the room.

It was a morning of happiness, and a much needed break from their hectic schedule. She recorded the entire day, from the dramatic wake up call to the celebratory sparklers that were set off that night, it was all captured.

After breakfast the princess requested a trip to the beach, and no one would dare refuse her. They found something private, a little hidden oasis an hour's drive from the villa. They spend hours there, switching between swimming and laying in the sun. She finds herself alone on the sand with Ethan at one point, watching the others like proud parents.

She tries not to think about how close his body feels to her, how she can feel the heat his body is radiating seeping into her, the smell of his body wash. He’s invading all of her senses and she’s trying so hard to focus on anything but him. “Let’s go on a walk?”

His voice is warm as the question escapes his lips. She turns to look at him and she’s thankful to be able to blame the sun for the blush on her cheeks. She nods and gets up to follow him, brushing off the sand that’s clinging to her bathing suit and wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

They disappear down the beach, walking side by side, a comfortable silence enveloping them. It’s not till they’re halfway down the beach that either of them speaks. “Are you enjoying your time?”

She doesn’t miss the hint of worry that laces his voice, and she’s quick to reassure him that she is. “Yes, very much. This is probably the best job I’ve had in years.”

He softly chuckles at her words, “Good. Good. We’re trying to make you feel like one of us, don’t want you running away.”

She’s grateful for the confession, glad that they don’t see her as just another person that works for them. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

He bumps her shoulder with his, a small smile forming on his face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They head back to the group soon after, realizing they’ve let the day slip away and need to leave soon if they want to make their dinner reservations.

A small vineyard hidden in the valley, they’ve booked the place so it’s just them, and ordered every bottle of wine on the menu to taste. They laugh away the night, enjoying plates of delicious food and letting their minds wander. A gorgeous cake is brought out at the end, half of which ends up destroyed thanks to an impromptu food fight. More presents are opened and Victoria starts tearing up, blubbering about how much she loves the idiots she’s surrounded with.

They walk through the dark streets of Rome, singing happy birthday loudly in every language they know. It’s unusually cold, but she’s somehow been wrapped in Ethan’s jacket, his arm slung over her shoulder. She’s holding Vic’s hand, Damiano and Thomas taking turns with her camera.

The air surrounding them is electrified, she looks up into the sky and thanks the stars for the life she’s living.

May

The summer tour is fast approaching, and nerves are starting to set in. The already high energy group somehow is bouncing off the walls even more, making for an interesting collection of photos. Nerves are starting to get the better of them, and she often finds one of them wandering around the Villa at odd hours of the night. She’s good at being able to channel her nerves into something else, focusing all of the energy on a new project.

One night though, it gets the better of her. She tosses and turns in her bed for hours before she decides that sleep isn’t coming. Instead of lying in bed willing her brain to shut off, she throws on a pair of shoes and heads for the front door, thinking a walk in the warm spring air will do her some good. What she doesn’t expect to find is Ethan sitting out on the terrace, cigarette in one hand and a book in the other, lost in his own world.

She doesn’t mean to catch his attention, hoping to allow him this little bit of uninterrupted peace, but he spots her anyway. “Buona serata,” He rasps, voice laced with the quietness of the night.

“Buona serata, Ethan.” She returns the greeting.

He motions for her to sit down in the chair beside him, closing the book and placing it on the table. “What’s troubling your mind tonight?”

She’s not used to the way someone can read her so well, but there’s something about Ethan that brings her comfort in the fact that he can. “Nerves, I guess. I’ve never done a gig this big, never spent so much time with one group. I’m used to being moved around a lot, still getting used to being a permanent fixture I guess.”

The words are heavy on her tongue, never having voiced her worries out loud before. He takes a long drag of the cigarette hanging from his lips, “La vita ci dà solo ciò che sa che possiamo gestire.”

“Some would think you were a poet in a past life.”

A small laugh escapes his lips, and he shakes his head. A comfortable silence falls over them and she wishes she could bottle this feeling to keep with her forever. He turns to look at her, and it’s hard to put into words the feeling that washes over him. He’s not sure where it comes from, the urge to kiss her, but it sends him spiralling.

He reaches his hand up to brush a few strands of hair out of her face, “Le stelle brillano più luminose nei tuoi occhi, amore.”

The words and his actions cause her heart to raise and her breath to hitch. They’re close now, the closest they’ve been since that night in February, and all she can think about is that kiss that they shared.

Neither knows who leaned in first, but suddenly their lips are touching and it is everything and nothing like they remembered. While the other kiss had been hesitant and brief, this one was full of purpose. Their noses brush and their breaths tangle together, he bits her lip for a moment and a small moan escapes her. He swears it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

He grabs at her hips, lifting her from the chair and placing her so she’s straddling his lap. She tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs softly, earning a groan from the man. The sound sends shockwaves through her and she rocks her hips against his almost involuntarily. His lips move from hers to the side of her neck, pulling small whimpers from her as he nips and sucks at the skin. It’s everything she’s ever imagined and more. The feeling of his body pressed to hers, the pleasure he can so easily give to her.

She moves her hands down to fumble with the hem of his shirt and that’s when he pulls away. “While I would normally love to do that here, how about we continue this somewhere more private?”

She nods eagerly and removes herself from his lap. He all but drags her inside the villa and towards his room. She trips over her own feet and they both laugh at her clumsiness, falling into each other as he tries to catch her but trips over his own feet in turn. He leans in to kiss her again as their bodies collide, this one sweeter and softer than the previous one.

The moment passes quickly and soon she’s being dragged through the halls again, only to be met with a half asleep Damiano standing in the doorway of his room. They stop in their tracks, jumping apart, trying to act like nothing was happening. “It’s rude to have a party and not invite everyone, you know.”

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, glad that he didn’t know what had been happening moments prior. Ethan is quick to explain that they were just having a cup of tea on the terrace and were now heading to bed, and thankfully the lie is believed. Damiano wishes them a goodnight, heading back into his room, and the two are left in silence in the hallway.

“Maybe we should go to bed,” he whispers to her.

Her heart sinks, but she nods her head in agreement and turns to walk back down the hall to her room. She’s not really sure how the night was going to end, but this was definitely not how she wanted it to; walking in silence next to someone her heart aches for, pretending that nothing had happened between them.

He walks her up to her door, still ever the gentleman, and places a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Buona notte, amore.”

The words should not sound as sad as they do, and she tries her hardest to keep the tears welling up in her eyes at bay as she watches him turn and walk away.

June

How do you go back to being just friends after making out with someone? Well, you don’t. At least, not fully. They dance around each other without knowing it, avoiding any contact that could lead to something more or allude to something else, but there are still moments where the world seems to slip away and it’s just the two of them.

The tour kicks off at a festival in Amsterdam. Blue skies and sunny days greet them as they get off the plane. They have a day to explore before their first show, and no one can decide how to spend it. In the end, Victoria drags Thomas off to do some shopping, Damiano plans a trip to a few museums with his girlfriend, and she is left with Ethan.

She’s not truly stuck with him, but she doesn’t feel like wandering a forgein city all by herself. Since the night in the Villa, they haven’t spent longer than a few minutes alone together, both refusing to acknowledge what had happened.

A trip to the beach seems like the best place to be, and within the hour she’s lounging in the sun listening to Ethan read a book. It’s peaceful, the sound of the waves and his voice lulling her into a half sleep. She’s got a drink in her hands, something sweet and fruity, and she’s sharing a cigarette with Ethan. It’s a scene she thinks one would find in a movie.

She rolls herself over so she’s laying on her back, staring up at Ethan who sits beside her. She places her hand on his leg and traces random shapes into his skin. Goosebumps rise in the wake of her fingertips, and he tries to stay focused on the book in his hands but finds it hard to do so. “You are very distracting, amore.”

She looks up at him innocently and she can’t help but admire him. His hair is tucked away in a bun, but a few pieces have fallen out and are flying in the gentle breeze. He’s only wearing a pair of swim trunks, broad chest on full display. He catches her roaming eyes as they make their way back to his face, a smirk slowly forming on his face. “Or maybe I’m the one distracting you, no?”

She smiles shyly and looks away from him, because yes, he is distracting her, and she’s finding it very hard to not kiss him right now. He chuckles at her, reaching his hand towards her face and turning it back towards him. He leans down towards her, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

All she can do is nod, and a second later his lips are on hers. It’s sweet and slow, she can taste the tobacco on his lips and it’s intoxicating. She moves so she’s sitting up, leaning into him more, the world around them fading out until all that is left is them.

A few days later they find themselves in a hotel room in Munich. There’s music playing and everyone’s laughing. Her camera hasn’t left her hands all night, every moment needing to be captured as they ride the after show high.

She’s in the middle of recording Thomas’ one man act when a pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist. She knows exactly who it is by the scent that invades her nostrils and sends her brain into overdrive. She lets out a sudden, loud laugh, as his fingers trace themselves up and down her sides, collapsing into his chest as she struggles to breath.

He picks her up and spins her around, letting out an equally loud laugh at her protests. He’s happy, and it’s something that looks better on him than any designer outfit he could ever buy.

He falls onto one of the beds, pulling her down with him. She lands beside him tangled in his arms, he’s looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. The world seems to silence around them as their eyes lock. Her smile softens and she reaches her hand over to brush an eyelash off his cheek, he catches her hand before she can pull it away and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently.

He looks ethereal in this moment, hair strewn all over the place, a wild look in his eyes. She reaches for her camera and brings it up to capture him, never wanting to forget this moment.

The streets of Prague are empty, save for the two of them walking hand in hand down them. It’s early, almost too early to be considered an acceptable time to be awake, but they continue on nonetheless. A wild craving for something sweet had brought upon their adventure, and with the look she was giving him, he couldn’t say no to accompanying her.

They had been sitting on the balcony of her hotel room, watching the sun starting to peak out over the horizon and sharing a cigarette when she had turned to him with a mischievous look in her eyes. “I want something sweet.”

The comment had earned her an offer to order room service, but she shakes her head at the idea, standing up and walking back into the room. “No. Something real, maybe a coffee too.”

He follows her in, watching her pull on a shirt to cover the bralette she had been sitting in. “È presto, amore. Let’s go to bed. We can order something when the sun is awake also.”

She smiles at his words, but makes no move to stop dressing. She grabs her wallet and room key before heading to the door, stopping to turn and look at him, a question in her eyes.

“Fine, I’ll come with you.” He says after a moment, throwing on his jacket and walking over to her.

It’s 7:30 in the morning, the sun is starting to make it’s daily appearance, and they are happy. The small bakery they stumble into is just opening for the day and they’re greeted by the owner, an older lady with the sweetest smile. She speaks in broken English, an obvious language barrier between the group of them, but no one seems to mind.

She orders herself a poppy strudel and a coffee, Ethan ordering a croissant and an espresso, before sitting down at one of the small tables. He sits beside her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. He presses a soft kiss into the crown of her head and she sighs in content.

Moments like this are what she lives for. She might only be here because she works for them, but somewhere along the way she’s become part of their little family. She looks over to Ethan who’s lost in conversation with the owner, and she whispers to herself, “Penso di essermi innamorato di te.”

She doesn’t know that he hears her, his smile spreading wider across his face.

July

The turnover from June to July happens mid concert in Stockholm. She swears she can feel it, the sudden shift, a slight change in the air. She’s running around in front of the stage capturing pictures of the band in what she’s come to call their ‘natural habitat’. There’s an indescribable buzz in the air as they perform, the crowd becoming louder and louder with each song.

She keeps catching Ethans eye and there’s something primal in the way he looks at her. During a song switch, while Damiano rambles to the crowd, he motions her on stage. He tells her to get closer to everyone, promising that they won’t bite, and she giggles at him. She does what he says nonetheless, capturing some up close photos of the band and a few great shots of the crowd.

All too soon the show is ending and everyone’s piling into the car, a small party taking place in the backseat. Damiano has music blasting from his phone, Victoria and Thomas are dancing along to the beat, and Ethan is belting out the lyrics. She watches the group of them, laughing so hard her sides hurt, and she’s never felt more at home.

When they get to the hotel he’s quick to pull her towards his room, thankfully void of a roommate for the night. The second they get into the room, his lips are on hers. He pulls her close to his body and her hands tangle themselves in his hair. It’s nothing like any of their previous kisses, it’s heated and fast, every thought trying to be conveyed by the fever of it. She pulls back slightly to catch her breath and he leans in to whisper in her ear, “Join me in the shower?”

It’s not so much a question as a statement, but she nods her head eagerly, quick to follow him into the bathroom. He strips himself of the few clothes he’s wearing (most having been thrown off during the show), before turning to her. He reaches his arms out towards her, pulling her close to him and tugging on her shirt. She barely registers him pulling off her clothes, too focused on his body in front of her.

She’s never seen him so bare, and she’s having a hard time focussing on anything else. It’s not until her body hits the warm water that she snaps back to reality. He looks wild, eyes blown with lust, a wicked smile on his face. She firmly plants her lips on his, moaning into the kiss as he grabs at her. His hands are skilled and know every way to pull those delicious sounds from her lips.

It’s quick and dirty, and it is everything she has ever imagined it would be.

An hour later, she’s tangled up in the sheets of his bed, his entire being engulfing her as they watch the stars outside the window. She wonders if they are watching them too.

Paris is the city of lights, a statement she’s never been more sure of. The streets are lit with every light, shining brighter than the stars. She’s in a permanent state of bliss, after the night she shared with Ethan. Their relationship is hidden from the public, living in stolen moments and nights in hotel rooms, but she’s never been happier to be someone's dirty secret.

The band is electric on stage, something about the city they’re in taking their performance to a whole new level. The show goes on longer than it should have, but none of them even care when their manager comes over to reprimand them. They hang around to greet fans and take photos with anyone and everyone, and it’s not until security has to kick them out that they finally leave.

They find themselves in a bar, not sure what part of the city they’re in, but no one cares when the night feels like this. They drink expensive drinks that they can’t pronounce the name of, dance to songs they don’t know the words to, and feel more alive than they’ve ever felt. It’s like the world turned itself up to 11 just for them.

She dances with Ethan, not caring who sees because the night is theirs and no one cares. She kisses him in the middle of the dance floor and he pulls her into a vacant bathroom. It’s hot and heavy and the smell of alcohol envelopes them, but they couldn’t care less. Is this love? They don’t care. They’re young and dumb, and well, you only live once.

Back at the hotel they spend the night wrapped in bedsheets on the balcony, a bottle of champagne and a pack of cigarettes shared between the two of them. He points to the stars, a stupid grin on his face, “Le stelle brillano solo per noi.”

She snorts, throwing an abandoned pillow at him. He grabs her arm and pulls her into him, tickling her sides until she’s begging him to stop, tears staining her cheeks but a laugh like no other leaving her lips.

As the night bleeds into morning, and both are hazy with sleep, he whispers to her, “Sei il mio universo.”

They walk down the streets of London, his arm slung over her shoulders as she rambles away, both blissfully unaware of the few fans snapping photos down the street. They don’t notice the group of girls following them, cameras and phones in hand, capturing picture after picture of the couple.

By the time they reach the shop, the photos are already out into the world.

As they order, reposts and comments start flowing, and their phones start lighting up with notifications.

Before they can pay, she’s crying.

Rule number one of being in the public eye; never look at the comments, distance yourself from social media as much as possible, it will never end well.

The final stop in Rome was supposed to be a welcome home. A big celebration was to occur after their last concert, but now, it’s nothing more than finding the quickest way back home. She sits in one of the dressing rooms the entire show, waiting for it to end, scrolling through her social media.

She knows she shouldn’t be, that’ll all it’s doing is hurting her, making her feel worse. But she can’t stop. The comments aimed towards her and the drummer are terrible, and she wishes she could just delete herself from existence. They aren’t even dating, at least not officially, but she’s been deemed the girlfriend from hell. She’s unknowingly stolen something that never belonged to anyone to begin with.

Damianos girlfriend is in the room with her, telling her of her own horror stories dealing with fans, and she knows she’s just trying to help, but she really wishes she would just shut up. She loves the girl to death, she’s been a blessing this entire time, but she feels her mind is too far gone to be saved from the madness.

It’s only a few minutes later that the band wanders in, the usual after show high replaced with a sudden heaviness. Ethan comes to stand by her after putting his things away and pulls her into a tight hug. “Amore mio.”

He’s sweaty and could definitely use a shower, but the hug is comforting. She rubs his back soothingly, knowing this is just as hard on him as it is on her. Their management team has told everyone to remain quiet about it, disappearing from the internet until further notice while they figure out how to manage the situation. It’s maddening, the inability to speak out and protect her. He wishes he could snap his fingers and everything would be fixed, but he knows nothing is ever that easy.

They make their way back to the villa in silence, the car filled with a strangeness. She’s sandwiched between Victoria and Ethan, leaning on the bassist's shoulder, watching her play a game on her phone. It’s not how anyone wanted to end the tour, but the world is a strange and cruel place. Everything good always comes burning down.

August

There’s a party at the villa one night. Things have calmed down enough that she doesn’t spiral every time she looks at her phone, but there’s something in the way Ethan acts around her that makes her uneasy. She’s standing out on the patio, trying to avoid the questioning eyes from everyone in the house. She hasn’t spoken to Ethan all day, and the alcohol coursing through her veins makes her even angrier than she knows she should be.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him walk out the door beside her, a small scoff leaving her lips as he tries to speak to her.

“Couldn’t be bothered to talk to me all day, what’s changed that you’ve decided to grace me with your presence?”

He looks at her, stunned. “I don’t get what you mean.”

She scoffs again, placing her glass on the table across from her. “Since London you’ve done nothing but ignore me. I get that this wasn’t easy for you, but it wasn’t exactly a cake walk for me. I needed you, Ethan, and you left me.” Her voice is raw and scratchy, the feeling of wanting to cry tickling the back of her throat.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how Dami does it, how he can deal with the comments and messages. My brain won’t shut off, I can’t stop thinking about how if I had been more careful, I could’ve protected you and none of this would’ve happened. I feel stupid for thinking I could have. I hate seeing you like this, I wish I could take you away from all of this.” His voice slowly lowers, till it’s nothing more than a whisper, words meant only for her.

“I was never what you wanted, was I? This was just all some stupid game to you. I was just someone you could use to get off.” Her voice is laced with pain, a small crack coming out as she speaks.

He shakes his head, laughing slightly, and turns to look away from her. He walks a few steps before turning to face her again, “No. No, you were exactly what I wanted. You were everything to me. We were the same type of crazy.”

“I don’t understand Ethan, then what was the problem? This feels like a confession and a break up all in one.” She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, watching as he pulls a cigarette out from his pocket and lights it.

The familiar sight creates something warm in her chest, memories of summer nights like this flash through her mind. Spending the evening sitting on the balcony of different hotel rooms, sharing a cigarette between the two of them while they let the events of the day soak in. She’d give anything to go back to one of those moments. He blows a breath of smoke out and starts to speak again, “I don’t know, amore. I don’t. I want to tell you I love you, to hold you and call you mine. But I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t.” It’s not a question, but a statement.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t turn this into something it’s not. I want to, believe me, I do.” He steps towards her and reaches out his arms, “But we both know we can’t.”

She doesn’t know where the tears come from, but they’re there, pooling in her eyes. It’s only been a few months since they’ve met, there were no promises to be anything more than a summer adventure, but this doesn’t feel right. Her heart should not be breaking at the thought of losing someone she barely even knows.

He stops when he notices her state, reaching out to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks. “Merda. Merda! This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”

She looks up at him through clouded eyes, “Then how was this supposed to go, Ethan? Breaking my heart wasn’t supposed to hurt me this bad? I was supposed to smile and tell you that I'm not madly in love with you and these past few months meant nothing to me?”

His heart breaks slowly at her words. He never meant for the night to go this way, and he wishes he could just pull her into his arms and tell her he loved her, that everything could be okay. But he can’t, so he pulls away from her, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

They’re the only words he can manage to get out without breaking down. He takes a second to watch her, memorize all the features of her face, before turning around and walking away. It’s a sight that rips her heart out, watching his form disappear back into the house. She knows this is it, the goodbye she’d been preparing for these past few weeks, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

Before she can help herself, she’s calling after him. “Being in love isn’t a weakness, you know!” But the words fall upon deaf ears.

Vic finds her standing in the same spot an hour later. She’s got a smoke lit in her hand, the third one from the pack. She hasn’t touched her lips to any of them, but the smell and the feeling of holding it brings her comfort. She was never really one to smoke, but she found it entrancing to watch Ethan do it, and right now, it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. It’s silly, how something so small can mean so much.

Her heart aches in the most unbearable way, but she can’t bring herself to do anything about it. Vic doesn’t speak, just stands beside her. She doesn’t need to ask to know that she is well aware of the events that have just unfolded, she’s just grateful for the company.

September

It’s stupidly hot in London for the time of year, but mother nature loves her unexpected heat waves. She’s home now, having left Rome shortly after the fight with Ethan, assuring their manager that she would be able to edit and upload all of the photos and videos from the comfort of her own flat.

Vic and Thomas had driven her to the airport, had walked her all the way to security and hugged her tightly before letting her go. She’d promised to keep in touch and Victoria had made her pinky swear that if she was ever in Rome again, she’d come visit. The flight was short, and she was glad the time difference was only an hour.

Her sister had picked her up and dropped her off at her flat, and she’d immediately collapsed into bed. That was three days ago, she’d barely moved since. Someone had caught her at the airport and the photos were everywhere, articles upon articles had been released, she’d had non stop messages from everyone, but all she could bring herself to do was turn her phone off.

Her photos make it to the front of magazines, her articles getting featured all over the globe, she’s made a name for herself. She gets emails from prospective clients wanting to book her in at shows, her boss sending her information for more high end gigs, but all she can think about is her drummer boy.

Her phone still sits turned off on her desk, she refuses to turn it on for anything, resorting to using only her email, but she knows everything that’s going on with the band. She’d been asked to join them again in a few months, to become a permanent part of their team. She hasn’t been able to reply.

She gets panicky thinking about seeing him again, about the things people will say if she’s caught in the same country as him. She’s stopped receiving death threats, but there’s still comments that creep in, fans thanking whatever gods made them seperate.

Victoria tries to reach out every few days, worried about the state of person she’s become, but she can’t even manage to type out an I’m okay. The world seems to be too fast and too slow, too bright and too dark, too much and not enough. Her heart aches and it’s a pain so deep she thinks she’ll never be okay again. Love is a cruel, cruel creature.

October

She finally brings herself to go back to work at the beginning of the month. She books herself in for a small band, someone no one really knows but she hopes they will one day. She’s in Amsterdam now, trying hard not to think of the memories the place brings. The band is good, the music heavy and the beat strong. They find a way to tell a story that leaves everyone with a soul searching question by the end of the night. Do you know who you are?

She’s only with them for a few nights, a short gig, but something she needed to get the ball rolling, to remember why she was doing this in the first place. After submitting the photos and writing an article that sends another wave of offers her way, she takes a few days to explore the city. It was wonderful before, when the air was warm and it felt like there was magic enveloping the city. But now, with the change of seasons, it’s even more beautiful than she remembers.

She walks the empty streets one night, huddled in the safety of her hoodie, camera in hand, and captures moments. A couple standing under a street light, a cafe closing for the night, kids running. It’s not until she hears a laugh she’s all too familiar with that her heart stops and her blood turns cold. She turns, ever so carefully, hidden behind the side of a building, and sees him.

He’s beautiful, even more than she remembers, and he looks happy. He’s walking with two girls, the resemblance making her sure it’s his sisters, but in this light she can’t be sure. She’s never met them, but he talked about them often, and she felt a pang in her chest for the homesickness he must have felt.

She tries to run, tries her hardest to get away, but she’s in an alley that leads nowhere and he’ll for sure be able to see her no matter what. The voices of the three get closer and she starts to panic, but there’s nowhere to go and she knows she’ll have to pull on her big girl pants and face him. But her heart won’t stop beating so loudly and she’s afraid she’ll break if he looks at her.

She pretends to be busy with her camera, focusing all of her attention on settings she knows are perfect, but a voice carries it’s way to her ears. “Hey stranger.”

It’s soft and it makes her knees weak and she hates herself for it. She looks up at him and his expecting eyes and her heart breaks all over again. She can’t help it, but suddenly there are tears running down her face and she can’t breathe. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

He places a hand on her shoulder but she pushes it away, “No it’s not.” She says between breaths.

“I shouldn’t be here, I should not be here. I have to go.”

She turns to leave, but one of his sisters stops her, “Let us walk you home, please. My brother may be a dumbass, but we have good genes. Let us make sure you get back safe.”

She doesn’t know why the words calm her, but she nods her head and lets the girls lead her in the direction of her hotel. The twins, Eleanora and Lucrezia, talk to her in fits of italian and english, trying to keep her brain occupied. But her whole body is on high alert, too aware of the man trailing behind them and how much of a fool she must look like. She feels like a mess, like someone drowning in a foot of water, but she can’t help it.

They walk her into the lobby of her hotel, the girls wish her a goodnight before shoving Ethan towards her. She doesn’t want to talk to him, and he must see it in her eyes because he tries to leave. But his sisters won’t let him, they stand tall and he looks like a child being scolded by his parents.

“Can we sit?” He asks, pointing to a couch.

She doesn’t want to, she wants to run up to her room and cry, but she nods. They sit and it is silent. Her stomach is in her throat, her eyes hurt from trying not to cry, but she sits and she waits. She studies his face, the crease in between his eyebrows that only forms when he’s confused or thinking, she wants to reach over and smooth it out. He turns towards her and catches her staring, a small smile forming on his lips.

He takes her in, allowing himself to really look at her for the first time in months, and something in his heart breaks. How did he ever let her go? Why was he so stupid to ruin something so beautiful?

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. “I’m so sorry, amore. I know I can’t say it enough, I know it’s not as easy as that, but I’m sorry and I love you. So much it hurts.”

The words hit her like a truck, they knock the air out of her lungs and the tears she was trying so hard to keep at bay start falling down her cheeks. She stands up so fast she gets light headed, “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

She turns and starts walking towards the elevators. He calls after her, but she’s determined to leave, to get away. He runs after her, catching her right before the doors of the elevator close, and he wishes she didn’t look so broken. The doors slip close and she is gone and he feels like he could break something.

Her room is cold and she wishes she was home in her flat. She throws herself into the shower, the water burning her skin, and she sobs. She sobs so hard her body shakes, she screams and hopes no one can hear her.

He’s still standing by the elevator, crying now, too. His body aches in a way he’s never felt before and he hates that he isn’t holding her right now. He knows he messed up, he beats himself up for it everyday, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be okay, but he has to do something.

November

The ground is covered in snow. It is peaceful and quiet. He’s not used to this, the cold and the snow, but he understands the appeal. He’s standing outside her flat, or at least what he hopes is her flat, Victoria wasn’t exactly sure which one was hers. He’s bought her favourite flowers and he’s prepared to pour his soul out to her.

He paces outside her door for what feels like hours, trying to get himself to knock, but before he can, she opens the door. “Ethan?”

Her voice is soft, his heart sings at the sound of it. He turns to face her and the sight before him takes his breath away. She’s wearing a dress that shows off everything he loved about her, a coat thrown over her arm, she looks like an angel on earth. “Do you have a moment?”

She’s running late for dinner with her sister, but she’s afraid if she says no to him, she’ll never see him again. She hasn’t forgotten that night in Amsterdam, wishes she would have been brave enough to stay and talk, but she can’t change the past. “Yes, yes. Come in.”

She lets him into her flat, taking the flowers he hands her, and brings him over to her couch. “So.”

The script he’d had prepared in his head is suddenly gone from his memories. “I’ve thought this through a thousand times, planned this out a million different ways, but I can’t figure out the right words to say. I’m sorry, amore mio. I can’t say that enough. I never should have left you, shouldn’t have let things happen the way they did. Loving you was easy, and I think that scared me.”

She takes a deep breath, not sure what to say. She feels tears bubbling in the back of her throat and she hates that this is her response to everything revolving around him. He notices the shift in her, can tell she’s about to cry, “Amore mio, please don’t cry. I’ll start and then neither of us will be able to do anything else.”

She laughs quietly at his words, “I don’t think there are any tears left inside of me. I cried them all for you.”

His heart breaks at her confession. He moves closer to her and wraps himself around her. She hates how easy it is for her to melt into his touch, but she enjoys the comfort of it. “Tell me how to fix this. Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me. I’m yours amore.”

“Please, don’t leave me again.” The words are barely more than a whisper, but he hears them.

He pulls her tight to his chest and holds her. She doesn’t care about anything else but this moment and him.

She wakes up the next morning in her bed. The sun is streaming in through the windows and she can smell Ethans body wash laced in the fibres of her bed sheets. She rolls over, expecting to see him beside her, but is met with an empty bed. Her heart sinks, afraid that everything he’d said was too good to be true, that he’d left her, again. But the sounds coming from her kitchen prove her wrong.

She gets up, quickly changing out of the dress she was wearing the night before, and follows the sound of clinking dishes. She’s greeted by the sight of a shirtless Ethan, back turned to her, hunched over her stove. There’s the smell of coffee brewing and something soft playing from the radio. If she doesn’t think too hard, she can almost imagine this being a daily occurrence.

He turns around when he hears the floorboards creak, a smile on his face, “Buongiorno amore mio.”

“Buongiorno.”

He hands her a cup of coffee and plates the pancakes he’s made. She smiles at the domesticality of it all. He sits down beside her on the couch and they eat in silence, leaning against one another. Afterwards, she washes the dishes and he dries them. Neither one of them says anything until the sun is high in the sky and they are laying in bed together. “I love you.”

It is the first time she’s said it in such a permanent way, she recites it like it is a fact written in history books. He looks down at her, she’s curled up on his chest, a hazy look on her face. He reaches down to tuck her hair behind her ear and leans his head towards her, “Ti voglio bene.” He seals the statement with a soft kiss.

It’s light and barley there, she chases after his lips as he pulls away, and he chuckles in a way that sends butterflies into her stomach. She places herself on his lap, weaving her fingers into his hair as his tether to her waist. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He stares at her, memorizing all of the features of her face. He loses himself in thoughts of days spent exactly like this, of a life he hopes isn’t just a dream. He flips them over carefully, laying her down on the bed. He hovers over her, arms on either side of her head, “I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

December

“Move in with me.”

It’s early in the morning and they’re sitting in bed sharing a pot of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, she’s leaned into his side, and he whispers those words.

She hasn’t yet told him about the offer from the band's manager, to become their permanent photographer, but it seems like the perfect moment to. “Yes.”

“Really?”

She laughs at his shock, “I was offered to come and work for the band full time, I haven’t replied yet. But I want to take the job.”

A goofy grin makes its way onto his face, “Do it! Right now. Tell them yes, come and stay with us. Be my girlfriend?”

He’s rambling and he doesn’t care. She smiles at him, her heart bursting with love for the man. “Okay, yes! Absolutely!”

Christmas is celebrated in their apartment in Rome. The band is there, her sister flies out and his family comes too. It is a day filled with love and laughter. They eat a grand lunch that they spent the previous day cooking, his mom brings a homemade panettone. They exchange gifts in the evening, and it is everything she’d dreamed of.

On New Year's Eve they make a trip to the villa. They sing songs and drink expensive wine. Fireworks light up the sky brighter than the stars. They sit out on the porch and tell stories of things that seem so far away. He’s sitting beside her, hands intertwined. He tells her about all of the things he wants to do in the new year and she is mesmerized by the way he talks.

There will be a moment in time when the world stops spinning and everything goes quiet, and she thinks that if that were to happen now, it would be the perfect way to go. Surrounded by the people she now calls family and the person she loves most in the world.

Fireworks go off in the distance, someone shouts out a drunken happy new year! and as time flows from one year to the next, she realizes that this is all that will ever matter.

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muffinbeliever · 3 years ago

Text

When the Stars Align [07]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Soulmate!Reader

Word Count: 4717

Warnings: language, sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), ANGST, but also cute date fluff, Lisa Braeden (yes this is a warning), crying, body insecurity

Summary: Soulmate!AU– Everyone has the first words their soulmate says to them tattooed on their wrists. You and your cat are living a normal life in Fort Collins, Colorado when three men come bursting through your door, completely changing your life. Reader-insert story. Starts around S06E08, but Sam has his soul, and it doesn’t really follow the series from there

A/N: HELLO !!!! i apologize for the delay my classes have been swamping me with work and i already had writers block but i finished this chapter like five minutes ago and i'm desperate to post it and see what you guys think ! please be sure to leave comments and likes as always <3

Masterlist | When the Stars Align Masterlist

Sunlight illuminated Dean’s face that you admired as you drove along the open road. The windows were down, a light breeze flowing through the car. Occasionally, Dean would catch you staring at him, but you didn’t mind and neither did he.

You giggled when you noticed a familiar neon sign and the red leather booths that peaked through the window, having been here only a couple of hours before.

“What?” Dean looked over at you, nervous as he didn’t know why you laughed. You shook your head, before replying.

“I just really like this place,” you said, refraining from telling him about your earlier excursion with Thomas, not wanting it to ruin the moment. He gave you a soft smile.

“I remember,” he said, his eyes shining with fondness, “You mentioned that you come here a lot when you were showing me around.” Your heart soared at the fact that he remembered the small detail.

He parked the car, before quickly getting out of the car, jogging over to your side to open the door before you could even register what had happened. He extended his arm and you giggled at his silliness before getting out of the car. He closed the door behind you, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back, gently leading you towards the diner.

There weren’t many people and you were grateful, hoping to have a quiet dinner with your soulmate and get to know him a bit better. He grabbed a booth snuggled against a corner of the room, gesturing you to sit down. You took one side of the table and he took the other side.

Two menus were placed on the table, and the dark-haired waitress flashed Dean a smile. She looked a couple of years older than you and her black jeans and tight shirt hugged her curves, her tied apron accentuating her slim waist. Her hair fell in gentle waves, framing her face in a way that yours never did.

“My name is Carmen, I’ll be serving you tonight,” she said directly to Dean. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, and you caught Dean glance at you.

“Can I start you off with anything to drink?” She asked, and Dean nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll have a Coke, please. Sweetheart, what about you?” He asked you kindly.

“A water, please,” you said to Carmen. Her eyes roamed your face and clothes, and she gave you a smirk.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she said, winking at Dean before walking away, her hips swaying with each step. There was a familiar sinking feeling in your chest that reeked of self-doubt.

Who did you think you are? Bagging a guy like Dean Winchester? Obviously, you weren’t terrible to look at, but you sure as hell weren’t a head-turner. Guys didn’t double take when you passed by nor did they try to pursue you. The only exception was Thomas, and you were sure that it was more of a friendly attraction than romantic.

You picked up a menu, not even sparing Dean a glance, trying to focus on what you were going to eat. Despite having eaten here many times, you were surprised at the selection they offered. Most times, you got a salad, sometimes switching it up with a burger, but the prospect of a pastrami sandwich sounded especially inviting tonight. You were debating ordering the pastrami, but decided that it probably wouldn’t look very attractive to eat. Besides, you were already self-conscious about your body, might as well try to eat healthily. Out of the corner or your eye, you saw Carmen approach your table, placing down the two drinks and straws.

“Have you decided what to get, sugar?” Carmen said, flashing a smile at Dean, not that he noticed. He was still looking at the menu, preoccupied with the dozens of choices to choose from.

“Yeah, uh… I’ll get the double bacon cheeseburger with fries on the side,” he said, before looking up and handing her his menu.

“And you?” She asked in a bored tone.

“I’ll get the chicken salad please, dressing on the side,” you said and she wrote it down before leaving. Dean gave you a look.

“Salad? I thought you liked burgers,” he observed, and you felt your heart sink. You didn’t want to be a salad girl, but here you were. You chastised yourself, this is Dean. He doesn’t care if you eat a pastrami sandwich.

“You’re right, I’ll be right back,” you said with newfound courage before getting up from the booth and walking over to the counter. You were able to call out to Carmen.

“Actually, can I have the pastrami sandwich with a side of fries instead of the salad?” She scoffed.

“Figures,” she muttered, “You don’t look like the salad type.”

Her bitchy tone cut through your heart like a knife. You were taken aback, unable to think for a second. You tried formulating a response, but she was already gone. You looked over at Dean who was typing away on his phone, probably texting Sam. You were defeated once again by a beautiful woman.

You made your way to the table, sitting down, lost in your thoughts. Dean’s phone was put away and you were staring at the table. Thinking for a second, you got up, and a look of confusion flashed in Dean’s eyes, but it was gone when you slid into the booth right next to him.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Get a little lonely over there?” He joked and you rolled your eyes before snuggling closer to him, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Just missed you was all,” you mumbled into his shoulder and he kissed the top of your head.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he said, “but I can tell something is wrong.” He gave you a knowing look.

“Carmen is pretty,” you admitted, hating that you were being petty.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he said, and you scoffed, pulling away to look at him.

“I’m not jealous,” you said, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

“I was just… I was making sure that… I…” you stammered before sighing, your shoulders falling in defeat.

“Yeah, okay maybe I was a little jealous. But clearly, we’re here together and she just kept staring at you, and don’t even get me started on how she talked to me.” You could feel yourself sinking deeper into your thoughts, hating that your stupid insecurities were about to ruin the date.

“What did she say to you?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing. You shook your head, debating on not telling him, but his deep green eyes were full of concern and worry.

“Just that I don’t look like the salad type,” you said, lowering your head in embarrassment. A hand came up to cup your cheek and your eyes met his once again.

“That’s bullshit. You’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m only yours, sweetheart,” he said, sincerely, before pulling you into a gentle kiss. It was scary how easily that calmed you down. You had struggled with insecurities for the majority of your life, and it usually took a couple of days, if not weeks, to pull yourself out of the dark hole in your mind, but one kiss from Dean, and all of the sudden, your heart stops racing and your thoughts slow.

Your kiss was disrupted by a clatter of plates on the table. Carmen didn’t speak a word to either of you and she was about to leave when Dean called out to her.

“You’re going to apologize to my girlfriend and then we’re getting a new server. You have no right to speak to her like that,” Dean defended you, an angry look on his face.

“Dean,” you whispered, a bit embarrassed by how this was going. She wasn’t exactly wrong, you weren’t supermodel-thin nor did you have amazing curves that drove men wild.

“Sorry,” Carmen said, not sounding sorry at all, before spinning on her heels and walking away from the table.

“Bitch,” Dean muttered, his eyebrows furrowing as he noticed you were lost in your thoughts, a small frown on your face. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head before you turned to look up at him.

“Let’s just enjoy our date,” you said with a hopeful smile, and he nodded. Forty minutes, a pastrami sandwich, and a double bacon cheeseburger later, you were giggling like a schoolgirl, enamored by the man sitting next to you.

“Sammy was sitting on the handlebars while I rode us to the hospital!” Dean exclaimed and you laughed at the story. He snatched a fry off your plate and dipped it in ketchup before shoving it in his mouth. You were acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his thigh that was pressed against yours. Caught up in his green eyes, you didn’t notice a man approach the table.

“How was the food?” You jumped, shocked at his sudden appearance. It was the manager, John or Jacob or something with a ‘J’. He came over after you complained about Carmen, apologizing for her behavior and telling you that he would be serving you for the rest of the night.

You beamed at him, completely satisfied with the pastrami sandwich that was now happily sitting in your stomach.

“Great!” Dean responded, flashing him a smile. The manager returned the smile before continuing.

“Because of your unpleasant start to the evening, dessert is on us. We have root beer floats, ice cream sundaes, and a variety of pies,” he listed, and you immediately looked at Dean whose eyes lit up.

“We’ll take a slice of apple pie, please,” Dean responded right away, his hand squeezing yours in excitement. You giggled at the smile on his face. The manager nodded and left the table, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. You looked up at him, admiring the freckles dotting his face. He gave you a soft smile that you returned and you leaned in for a kiss. It was a chaste kiss, not one of need or lust, but adoration and love.

Throughout the months, you have accepted that you had fallen for the oldest Winchester brother. There was the obvious fact that he was your soulmate, the one person in the world made exactly for you, but you knew that even if that weren’t the case, you would have still been in love with Dean. You loved his wit and charm, often catching yourself imagining his flirtatious winks. Not only was he gorgeous to look at, but he didn’t flaunt it like other men did. Sure, he knew he was attractive, but you at times, you sensed deep-rooted insecurities from him, which you thought was ridiculous since he was basically built like a Greek god. He was selfless to a fault; always putting everyone before himself. His loyalty to Sam was admirable, and you had no doubt that he would do anything for those he loved.

The manager placed a giant steaming slice of pie between the two of you, two forks on the side of the plate as well as whipped cream. You expected Dean to dig right in, but he looked at you expectantly. The scent of the spiced apple filled wafted from the plate and made your mouth salivate. Dean picked up a fork and detached a large piece from the tip of the slice. Before you could even register his actions, he brought the fork up to your mouth and pressed it against your closed lips. You accepted it without question, humming as the warm treat hit your tongue.

“That bad, huh?” Dean joked with a twinkle in his eye. You smiled at him before returning the favor. Your fork didn’t grab nearly as big of a piece as his did, but you focused on the way his lips wrapped around the fork. His tongue swiped at his upper lip, not wanting to waste a single crumb of pie.

Heat pooled in your belly and you clenched your thighs together, remembering just how much of an expert he was with his tongue. He groaned, his eyes closed as he savored the pie, and the sound shot straight to the apex of your thighs. You let out a small whimper, and his eyes flashed open. His green eyes swept your figure, taking in your squished thighs and flushed neck before smirking at you.

“Later, sweetheart,” he promised, his fingers dancing on the top of your thighs. You could feel his warmth through your jeans, sparks of electricity shooting through you with every touch. You shuffled closer to him, wanting your bodies as close as possible.

“You want some more?” He offered to you and you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Dean got another piece of pie and shoved it in his mouth. You looked at him, confused, and he smirked at you once again before pulling you into a searing kiss. You let out a soft moan as his tongue played with yours, the taste of apple pie fresh in your mouths. His hand tightened around your thigh at the sound. He was the first to pull away, breathless.

“Let’s get this to go, ya?” He suggested with a wink and you giggled, nodding. You were lost in his smile, noting the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his full lips turned up. He waved the manager down and asked for a box and the check. You placed the pie delicately in the take-out box as Dean set down enough cash to cover for the meal and tip.

You slid out of the booth first, pulling your leather jacket on and Dean’s hand rested on the small of your back, leading the both of you out of the diner. As you expected, the air was crisp and chilled. He opened the door of the Impala for you, making sure you were safely inside before shutting it. You watched as he jogged over to the driver's side, sliding in next to you. Grateful for the long bench, you shifted closer to Dean and his hand came to rest comfortably on your thigh.

The soft sounds of Bon Jovi whispered through the speakers, barely noticeable unless you strained your ears. The windows were closed this time due to the slightly colder weather, but you were warm with Dean beside you.

There wasn’t much talking on the way home. You sat in a comfortable silence, occasionally feeling his eyes on your face, but every time you looked at him, he was looking away, a smile on his face. After the third time, you huffed and grabbed his hand from your thigh, interlacing your fingers with his. He looked at you, surprise written on his face, and you gave him a triumphant smile. He brought your interlocked hands up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your hand.

Before you knew it, the familiar light of your street came into view and he pulled his car up in front of your house. You didn’t want to let go of his hand, so you slid out his door after he did, holding the box of pie in your other hand. The crickets were chirping as you walked up to the front door.

‘Later, sweetheart,’ came the echo of his voice throughout your mind, and you pulled him into the house, roughly kissing him once the door was closed. His arms came to your shoulders, gently pushing off the sleeves of your leather jacket. You struggled a little bit, not wanting to drop the pie in your hand, before Dean took it from you, setting it on the small table next to your door that usually held nothing but a small succulent.

He pulled off your shirt in a swift motion and his lips began traveling down your neck, occasionally sucking and licking sensitive spots. You gasped as he nibbled your earlobe.

“So responsive,” he murmured and an involuntary shiver ran through your body. His leg gently pushed your legs apart and his thigh pressed against your covered core. His hands gripped your waist, and you ground against his thigh, the friction of your jeans rubbing against your sensitive bud in a deliciously perfect way.

“Good girl,” he praised, continuing his trail of kisses from your neck down to the tops of your breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered to himself, staring at your flushed chest. You were wearing a simple bra, nothing fancy or particularly sexy, but Dean made you feel like you were in expensive lingerie, draped in the finest lace and silk in the world. You moaned wantonly, begging for more. You picked up the rhythm, moving faster against his thigh. He watched you with lust-filled eyes, devouring you. The pressure between your legs kept building until it finally peaked, and you came with a loud moan. Dean placed gentle kisses on your sweaty forehead, relaxing you as you came down from your high. His leg came down, setting your feet gently on the floor. Your legs felt like jello, occasional spasms wracking through them.

“Maybe we should move this to the bedroom,” you suggested, not wanting the night to be over. He picked you up in his arms and carried you bridal style into your room. He gently tossed you onto the bed. He peeled his clothes off and you wriggled out of your tight jeans and soaked underwear. Your hands went behind your back to unclasp your bra and you flung it off the bed, hearing it land on the floor with a soft thud. You laid back down on the bed, fully naked and ready for Dean.

His eyes swept over your naked body and you spied his cock straining through the fabric of his boxers. He quickly discarded his underwear and laid on top of you, his firm chest pressing against your naked breasts. You could feel him hard against your stomach and you snaked a hand between the two of you, wrapping your hand around his shaft.

Your thumb wiped across the slit, catching the beads of precum that were leaking from his tip. His breath caught and you slowly pumped him in your hands. One of his large hands came to rest on your right breast, his thumb brushing against your pebbled nipple. The other hand dipped into your wet folds, collecting your juices on his digits. You watched him suck them off his fingers before they were venturing into you once again. You whined, not wanting to wait another second for his cock to be inside you.

“Please,” you said, squirming beneath him. He had one hand lazily circling your clit and the other pinching and tugging at your breasts.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, power dripping from his words. You searched for more friction, but couldn’t find any.

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “I want to feel you inside me please. Fill me up with your big cock.”

“Fuck, baby,” he swore under his breath, before lining himself at your entrance. With a single thrust, he was completely unleashed in you, and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan. He groaned into your neck, still not used to your tightness and warmth surrounding him. When you were adjusted to his large size, he began moving inside you.

His cock dragged along your walls with every thrust, emptying you and filling you repeatedly. Your legs hooked around his back, driving him deeper into you, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. Your moans bounced off the walls, as did his low grunts.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he demanded, his fingers working your clit once again. Your eyes clenched shut as you came around him with a scream. He pulled you into a bruising kiss and his thrusts became sloppy as he raced to catch his release, pulling out of you and spilling himself on your chest and stomach. Spent, he rolled next to you, the two of you heaving to catch your breath.

“Wow,” you whispered once your racing heart began to slow. He turned his face towards you, grinning.

“Yeah,” he agreed, before climbing out of bed to get you a damp towel. The two of you cleaned up in silence. He pulled on boxers and you pulled on underwear and his t-shirt, switching the light off before falling back into bed. His arms rested around you, your chests pressed against each other.

“Thank you for taking me on a date,” you said, catching his eyes with yours, “I’ve never been on one before, but I’m glad I waited for you.” You felt his body tense and his lips pressed tightly together.

“Sweetheart,” he started, and you saw regret fill his eyes.

“I should’ve waited for you. I wish I did,” he admitted, his voice tense. You shook your head and tried to press closer to him, but he pulled away.

“Dean,” you asked, confused, but it was his turn to shake his head.

“I never thought I’d meet you. I always thought this—,” he gestured towards your body, “you— I thought it was impossible. The life I live is not made for soulmates. I never imagined myself living a normal life with my soulmate. I couldn’t even bear the thought of it. So I didn’t.”

He ran a hand down his face, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. You tugged at his hand, wanting to see him.

“I know that you have more experience than I do, Dean. That doesn’t bother me,” you tried to explain, but he pulled his hand away from yours.

“You don’t even know half of it,” he snapped back, and you pulled back at his sharp tone.

“Then explain it to me,” you demanded, knowing that this conversation had been boiling for a while and that it was only a matter of time before it reared its ugly head again. Dean must’ve known it too, because his eyes softened and he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“At first, it was just a bunch of one-night stands,” he started, and you laid stiffly, afraid that he would stop talking if you moved.

“I spent a lot of nights picking up girls in bars. I would flirt with them and take ‘em home. I’d show them a good time and leave before they’d wake up in the morning. It went on like that for years. I didn’t think I’d ever meet you. Hell, I didn’t even know if I’d be alive to meet you.

“But then I met Lisa, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to spend another night with a girl. I ended up spending a whole week at her place. I knew she wasn’t my soulmate. I knew that her soulmate died in a car accident years before. I knew that the universe didn’t perfectly make us for each other, but at the time, I didn’t care. Sam and Dad were on a case and I was alone.

“I thought about her a lot during my time on the road. I wanted to cling onto something— I needed to cling onto something. Years passed, and I still didn’t meet you. Me and Sammy ended up working a case in her city. I met her son.”

Your breath hitched. Her son? Dean turned his head towards you at the sound and saw the panic flash across your eyes.

“Oh no, Ben wasn’t my kid. I swear,” he tried to reassure you, but you didn’t feel comforted at the thought, you merely nodded, gesturing for him to resume his story.

“The apocalypse was approaching, and I was scared. I was weak and scared. I didn’t think I’d make it, and I had accepted the fact that I wouldn’t meet you before the world ended. I thought Lisa and Ben were all I had. I dreamed about her, quite a bit, really. I dreamed about having a life with her, mowing the lawn on Saturdays and picking Ben up from baseball practice. I visited her again before the whole Lucifer-Michael showdown happened. I told her that I’d made arrangements to keep her and Ben safe, and she asked me to stay with her, but I knew that I couldn’t. I had to be there for Sammy. For Bobby.

“But then, Sam was in the cage. I was lost and broken. So I did the only thing that I could think of. I left the hunting life and moved in with Lisa.” His words pierced you like a knife, your heart shattering into pieces. Tears pooled in your eyes.

You weren’t exactly sure why you were upset. It wasn’t his fault that the two of you hadn’t met at the time. It wasn’t his fault that he met Lisa before he met you. It wasn’t his fault that he sought comfort in her when you weren’t there for him. You knew it was no one’s fault, just circumstance, but that didn’t keep you from feeling a sting of betrayal.

“How long?” You whispered, knowing that if you spoke any louder it would crack and you would burst into tears. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know the answer. He was silent for a moment, and you thought he wouldn’t respond.

“A year,” he said, his voice hoarse, seemingly filled with regret, concern, and pain. Your stomach dropped. A year? He spent a whole year with her. A whole year with her and her son. Their son. It didn’t matter that Dean wasn’t Ben’s biological father, you already knew that Dean loved him like his own. You let out a shaky breath, preparing yourself to ask the question that had been floating around your mind ever since he started.

“Did you love her?”

You couldn’t even meet his eyes. You looked anywhere but him, your eyes roaming over your ceiling instead of the green eyes that were staring at you. He was quiet, and you closed your eyes, feeling tears spill down the side of your face.

“I thought I did, but I don’t know anymore,” came his whispered reply. “In some ways, it probably was love. But not the kind of love that would survive. I couldn’t live a life without hunting. She couldn’t live a life with hunting.”

You winced at his words. The implication that if they were able to compromise, he wouldn’t be laying next to you right now, but next to her. You wished he had just said yes. Maybe it would’ve hurt less.

“Okay,” you said because there was nothing else to say. You contemplated kicking him out of the bed, but you still loved him, and you knew that it would just pain you more. You turned over on your side, your back facing him. You pulled the covers up, wanting them to swallow you whole. There was movement on the bed and you heard the shuffling of sheets, feeling Dean’s warm body come close to yours to hold you, but you tensed up.

“Please don’t,” you whispered, and he stilled before respecting your wishes, retreating back to his side of the bed. You gripped a pillow against your side, hugging it for comfort. You tried to keep your sobs silent, but there was no use hiding them.

You cried for your pain and hurt, wanting to hate Dean, but you couldn’t. You cried for the love lost between the two of you. You cried because you didn’t know if he even wanted you. But most of all, you cried for Dean. You cried for the burdens he’s endured and that you couldn’t be there for him during times of hardship. You cried because you knew that it wasn’t Dean’s fault, yet here you were punishing him because you were really punishing yourself.

As your tears slowed and your breath became steady again, you were exhausted. You were already drifting off to sleep when you felt Dean’s fingers in your hair and a gentle kiss to your forehead. Too tired to argue, you snuggled into his body and let sleep take you away.

Taglist: @akshi8278 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @lanea-1 @slamminmine

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x soulmate!reader #dean winchester x y/n #reader x dean #reader x dean winchester #y/n x dean winchester #y/n x dean #dean winchester angst #dean angst #dean winchester fluff #dean fluff #supernatural #supernatural series #muffinbeliever

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years ago

Text

gold dripping down your wrist (2/8) | r.b.

summary: His breath flutters against your skin, and you wonder if he feels your heart tripping over in your chest. Or, despite every instinct telling him to run, Reiner gives in.

WARNINGS: ptsd nightmares, swearing, slight angst, otherwise,,, hmmm relatively unscathing besides a whole lot of yearning. dont worry next chapters will be sad as hell! pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 5.4k

a/n: hehehe biting my lip like a chad for isabel ( @luciilferss )

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Shooting up in a silent scream, your hand flies to your neck as the last remnants of your nightmare dissipate. Breath coming in sharp, rapid inhales, you glance around the barracks and find no one else awake. Soft snores fill the room, and you shake your head to yourself, rubbing at your eyes.

No good to fall back asleep, now.

Your entire body covered in cold sweat, you pluck at the front of your shirt, fanning yourself out as you swing your legs off the bed. A chill travels up your pants and through the holes of your shirt as you glance out the windows. Lunar light is streaming through but the moon itself is already fading. You get up, meandering over to the windows to look out. Some of the Scouts are on guard duty, as always, but other than that—tranquility.

So weird to think they have that when outside the walls, it’s a lawless land.

Leaning forward, you move until your nose nearly touches the glass, and someone else in the room shifts with a grunt. You look over your shoulder, trying to decipher the shadows when a rough voice calls out right next to you.

“Creampie?”

Slapping a hand over your mouth so you don’t scream, you look down. Reiner.

“What are you doing up?”

“Did I wake you?” you question warily, and he leans into the moonlight, squinting at you as he rubs at his face. Shaking his head briefly, he studies you with a narrowed glare and you almost want to shift back into the shadows at the perpetually annoyed expression on his face but you’ve learned that he just looks like that. “You can go back to sleep.”

“Are you cold? You look like you’re shivering.”

“No, I’m okay.” Liar. You think even your bones are chattering.

He sits up, tossing his blanket off. “I can get you another blanket from the supply closet,” he mutters wearily. Standing, he pushes himself up and nearly into your personal space but he stops right in front of you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “C’mon. Back to bed.” He flashes a quick smile before brushing past you and words bubble inside your throat as you turn to watch him sink back into the darkness.

You whisper after him: “I had a nightmare about Marco.”

It is all it takes to make Reiner freeze. He turns around immediately, and you see his eyes before anything else. Wide with guilt, with grief. You lower your own head in shame.

“I’m sorry. I know I should try to move on, but he died all alone. It’s all I can think about. He must’ve been so scared” Keeping your tone as quiet as you can, you turn your face back to the night as he returns to your side. You stare at the stars and point absently at the one twinkling down at them both. “This older kid at the farm used to tell me all that every new star is another soul joining the heavens. Do you think…” Your arm falters and a weak sigh pushes past your lips as Reiner catches your falling hand in his own. You feel the calluses on his palms against your fingers as you swallow tightly. “Maybe that one is Marco?”

Your fingers interlace with Reiner’s as he wraps an arm around your waist, and you let him pull you towards him as he presses a rough kiss against your brow. The motion makes your entire being freeze in motion as he sighs, lowering his head. His breath flutters against your skin, and you wonder if he feels your heart tripping over in your chest. The tip of his nose brushes along your forehead, before he lets go of your hand, and you feel like ice digs into the fingers when his heat leaves. His arm around your waist falls and your head ducks.

The moment’s passed.

“That’s a good way to see it.” Stepping away, you watch his figure slouch, the way his shoulders cave in, and you can’t help the next words that come out.

“I miss him. All the time. Him. And Thomas. Mina. Like they’re watching me on my shoulders, weighing me down. I can’t see them,” you continue, “but I feel them. All the time. I’m doing everything wrong and I’m letting them down.”

“Hey, don’t think like that,” he commands sternly, eyes flashing up to meet yours. It’s chilling, how much you’re inclined to believe him, but you don’t even nod as he grasps your shoulder. “You did what you could, alright? You just keep going, one foot in front of the other. You were one of the best in our class.”

“I wasn’t even top ten,” you snort.

“Grades doesn’t make a soldier. Annie should’ve told you that it was all bullshit,” he says and you wince to yourself, lips pressing together You know he’s partially right, but you don’t have the strength to argue the rest. Guiding you back to bed, Reiner gently pushes you back down onto the cot and you fall back, lacing your fingers over your stomach.

Craning your head up at Reiner, you look at him looming over you, silhouette outlined in silver. He stares down at you, his expression shrouded, and you wonder what he’s thinking in that mind of his.

Your hand lifts from your stomach, and taps on the open space beside you. A soft thump-thump, like your pulse, like an invitation.

He turns away to glance back at the bed, and the moonlight hits his pale face blindingly. Squinting, you try to discern what emotion plays at his face as a sinking sensation begins to drag at your insides.

He’s going to walk away, a voice inside crows. Who do you think you are? Seducing the guy you have a crush on? As if.

You want to take it back. Excuse it as a moment of weakness. A brief, Can we forget I just did that? They could just move on with their lives knowing some lines are better left uncrossed.

But then, there is a weak: “This one time, alright?”

Every word turns to dust in your mouth.

He turns back to you before you can respond and crawls into the space next to your own. Your heart lurches in your chest as he settles beside you with a silent groan.

He lifts an arm and you scoot closer, your head resting on his shoulder. Ear pressing into his chest, the soft thunder of his heart fills your entire body as he pulls you tight. Glancing up at him, you watch as his eyes slide shut tightly.

Your own face crumples and you bury it in his chest. “She’d say,” you continue on quietly, “that the the brightest stars were the fiercest warriors.” He stiffens as you twist the fabric of his shirt in a tight fist and your stomach twists as you try to find the words. The shadows are closing in on you, and you can only anchor yourself to the arm swathed around you as you whisper his name. “I was pretty much all alone after she left to find work a few years back. It’s part of why I joined the corps, but I heard she’s back there, now, and—”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me.”

What?

Head jerking up to look at him, you meet a strong jaw clenching in a sharp scowl. His hand on your arm traces smooth circles and a drowsiness begins to flood your senses as he lets out a soft groan, rolling onto his side and pulling you flush against his chest. A leg slipping between his, you tilt into his chest as his arm wraps around your waist and it’s so tight you can barely breathe. Your arms crushed between their chests, your fingers twist the collar of his shirt and your nose brushes his chin when you shift against him.

“It just makes all this harder,” he explains hoarsely.

A heat blooms in the small distance between their bodies as you nod. You understand.

The wooden bedframe creaks beneath their weight as the hand on your back migrates to your shoulder blade and he buries his face in the plane of your shoulder. The searing skin of his temple against your jaw and your stomach in knots, you nuzzle yourself closer.

“I really am sorry for waking you,” you whisper, freeing your arms so you can loop them around his neck, thread your fingers in his hair but he doesn’t acknowledge your words. Their every breath is shared, and you swear their hearts are touching through the thin walls of their skin and sinew.

A gentle wave crashes over you when he hooks his fingers onto your shoulder, so unbearably close that you wish he’d either come closer or push himself away. You want to sink into his chest, hold onto him for the rest of the night as your eyes begin to flutter shut. His arms tightening around you, you think for a moment, you can finally relax. He’s just so warm.

“I know since Annie joined the MPs, there’s a sort of emptiness in you. You miss her. I get that.” Reiner lifts his head, arms withdrawing a bit. “I’m okay with you using me to fill whatever space she used to, but I can’t—” You hear a soft inhale above and you look up. You wonder if he can feel your racing heart under his palm. He’s already looking at you, and when your eyebrows rise in silent question, he shakes his head and looks away, lips curling into a scowl you barely see in the darkness. “I can’t.”

You can’t what, Reiner? Why won’t you look at me?

Then, he shivers, eyes shutting tight as he ducks his head again, and his cheek presses against your temple. Your eyes widen when his arms seem to pull you infinitely closer. “Shit.” More softly to himself: “Never mind. I’ve gotta go back to my bunk.” His breath is warm against your skin. A shudder shoots through you. “I can’t sleep in your bed.” A squeeze of your waist. Your leg slides against his thighs and he only hugs you tighter. “This isn’t right. I shouldn’t—”

“I’ll let go in a minute,” you tell him softly.

Hs hand flattens along the top of your spine, spreading as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t catch you. Cradling your head, his hand burns your skin.

When you wake up, it is alone to a mattress underneath your back, but Reiner waits until everyone leaves the room before he kisses your cheek good morning. It’s a one-time occurence, you know, but still, it’s nice.

Walking towards the edge of the internment zone, Reiner spots the newspaper cart milling with people, no doubt buying the new papers relaying the Marleyan victory in Fort Slava. The crowd is cheering to one another and his hands roll into fists as the line shifts forward. Meandering nearer, he can’t help but think of Paradis.

It was nothing like the hell they’d described. There were just tall walls, and people. Sure, they were behind a couple of years, technology wise, but they were relatively the same.

One thing that’s different though, was that there had never been the need for papers within the Walls. And if there was news to relay, you would come with the fresh news from Section Commander Miche, or Captain Levi. He’d always read your face as you gave the news—if your eyes still had a spark in them, that meant it had to have a hint of good news.

And you had been so relieved once you reached Utgard Castle you had hugged him so tight that he couldn’t breathe when he caught those eyes glimmering in the dawn. He remembers holding you tight against him with his ‘uninjured’ arm and the way you had just…

You had gone to him first. Not Bertholdt, not Connie.

Him.

And he had gone to you first, when he had seen you swaying in your seat atop a horse who hung his head low. He couldn’t even remember anything else, except seeing you and breaking away from his group, galloping towards you and Bertholdt. You were bloody, a corpse sitting up—his entire body had felt his heart drop into the depths of his stomach, the seizing in his gut. Even after he had thrown your confession into the dirt, stepped on it, told you it couldn’t be—he had betrayed that all in an instant seeing you with Death’s hand on your shoulder.

Shit.

He used to be so much stronger. How else could he still let you go for a mission that’s brought him nothing but ghosts?

“Excuse me.” The words pull out of his mouth as soon as he feels someone collide with his arm. Something falls and his hand shoots out to catch it before it can crash to the ground, his other hand grasping onto their bicep. Paper crunches and he straightens up, immediately finding who he bumped into. Purple hat shrouding a ducked head, she doesn’t look at him, frozen in space. You, he thinks dazedly. You again. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he continues quietly. “Are you alright?”

A short nod, and then she breaks off, clamping a hand over a plum sleeve where a white armband rests, taking off past him, back deeper into the interment zone. Reiner glances down at his fist, at the paper still clutched tight in his own fist, and his head shoots back up to search for the figure.

Gone. Shit. How did they even disappear so quickly? The road behind him stretches for a distance that would take more than two damn seconds to cross.

Fitting a palm to his brow, Reiner’s expression tightens as he looks down at the paper and he sighs, whipping it open to the sight of their so-called victory.

He’s seeing things. He’s… he’s just tired, and tormented. That’s all. Even the letters of the paper look a bit strange to his straining eyes, and he sighs, lifting his head again to look at the empty road behind him.

“This is really crunchy,” you mumble. Krista smiles, pleased. Swinging the axe you’d been using to chop wood into the stump, you swallow and set a hand on her blonde head, rubbing it fondly before taking another bite. “Where’d you get this? We haven’t gone to town this week.”

“Bertholdt, Connie, Sasha and Armin went to go pick some fruits surrounding headquarters while Eren trains. I thought I’d bring some back for you gys.”

“That’s nice.” You grin, taking another bite and letting out a noise of surprise when juice dribbles down your wrist. Good thing your sleeves are rolled up. “You should take one to Captain Levi. I think apples are his favourite.”

“How do you know that?”

“Who doesn’t like apples?”

Krista shrugs as another shape lumbers over to you.

“What’s going on over here?”

“Reiner, catch.” You grab an apple from Krista’s basket and fling it at the guy who catches it easily with a grin. Taking a bite, his eyebrows rise and you laugh as a delighted expression spreads over his face. “Good, right?”

He nods. His whole body is coated in a fine layer of sweat, the evidence of his labour staining the front of his shirt as he stops next to you. Your heart stutters at the heat radiating off his skin as he looks at Krista. His shoulders rise and fall with his breath, and you swallow to yourself, taking another bite of your apple so you have an excuse to keep your mouth shut.

“You should bring some to Eren and the others,” he suggests. “They’ve been working hard.”

“I will.” Smiling charmingly, the blonde girl adds that there’ll be some left in the mess hall later and waves, departing. You watch her go with another crunch of your apple and you let out a small sound when golden juice dribbles down your wrist. Without thinking, you lift your arm to your mouth, sucking the trail off before it can continue down to your elbow. Something burns into your cheek, and you turn your head.

Catching Reiner staring at you, a mortified feeling strikes through you and you let out a choked sound, dropping your hand. Averting your eyes, you stammer, “Sorry. Habit. Not used to people watching me eat. Mostly ate during work hours back home, so…”

His lips pull into a flustered smile. “N-No. That’s fine. You worked on a farm, right?”

“Yeah. With other orphan kids.” It was so lonely. You look up at him bashfully and he rubs the back of his neck with a hand as he bites into his apple. Unable to help the pleased tone seeping into your voice, you say, “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. You mentioned it,” he replies, waving it away, looking away. His face is red, and you squint against the sun. “You said there was an older kid there. Talked about the stars.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she was like family. Until I joined the corps and met you, Bertholdt, and Annie, that is. You guys just… I dunno.” You rub your elbow, smiling at him. “Times like these make me miss Annie. She’s a better friend than everyone gives her credit for, y’know? We always said when the time came we would work together in the MPs.”

“Uh-huh.” Reiner looks away, eyebrows furrowed together. “It’s getting hot.”

“Yeah.” Your brow crinkles but you let his diversion slide. “We should take a break.” You gesture to the shade nearby and he takes the lead, heading over to collapse against a tree. You rotate the apple between your fingers, you take another bite, nose wrinkling as a wind sweeps against your face.

They continue to eat in silence, not much to be sad. Your heart begins to slow, even as Reiner shifts closer, one of his knees bent, the other crooked flat on the cool grass. Smiling to yourself, you just watch the sun touch everything you can see, and in times like this, of absolute nothingness, you can finally remember how beautiful the world is.

The sky is blue enough to drown in, the clouds are infinitely fluffy, and the grass gleams white underneath the heat. Even if you’re sweating your skin off, the wind is cold like a kiss, and you feel a delighted shiver course through you.

“It’s so beautiful,” you sigh. “The world. I wish we could see more of it, but what we have here… I think I take it for granted. How truly perfect it all is.”

“Yeah.” His voice rasps against your ear and you inhale the summer wind deeply once again, feeling it fill up your entire chest. “I think I do, too.”

Looking at Reiner, your lips part in a response before rough fingers cradle your chin and tug you forward. Apple core falling to the ground, your arms crumple against a strong body and you barely resist holding him with your sticky hands as a mouth presses against yours. Body melting against his own, your stomach flutters and you let out a soft moan as his hand travelled along your chin to cup your face, thumb stroking your cheek. His other hand rests on your knee and your eyes slide close as a tongue traces the seam of your lips, dips in tentatively. Arm wrapping around his neck, you pull him in deeper by the crook of your elbow and sigh into his mouth.

The soft warmth floods your entire body, cools you down somehow, and you swear you can’t feel the ground beneath your legs. Hours seem to pass—the gust caresses your sweaty skin, the leaves seem to chime.

It’s idyllic.

It’s perfect.

It’s only a few beats more before he draws back sweetly, hand falling away from your face and he searches your expression.

“You, uh, missed a spot,” he whispers hoarsely, clearing his throat and drawing back. Smiling dopily to yourself, you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand but not even that can erase the tingling sensation spreading through your face. Looking into your lap, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to prevent the ginormous smile from spreading while he leans back against the tree, looking out into the distance.

“Hey!” Heads jerking up, the two Scouts spot Ymir glaring at them by the entrance to the headquarters. “Didn’t know some of us were having a day off!”

Mikasa carries a near-passed out Eren into the building while Section Commander Hange and Section Commander Miche wave them, gesturing for them to come back in. You sit up straighter and Reiner lets out a displeased grunt as you tear up some grass by your leg.

“Get that wood and get back in here,” Miche calls. “That’s more than enough for the week.” You find yourself nodding as Reiner pushes himself to his feet and you look up as he walks back into the sun. Their superiors head in, but Ymir lingers, watching them, and you stare back until she seems to let go of her crossed arms, shake her head, and turn back inside.

You blink. Scrambling after Reiner, you catch up with him and wait to see if he’ll see anything. When he only steps towards your pile of firewood and slings the frame to hold bundles of firewood in onto his back, your hand shoots out before you can stop yourself.

He stiffens at your touch.

“Shouldn’t we talk about what just happened?” you ask quietly, a swirling sensation swimming in your chest. Confusion tinted everything as Reiner pauses, glancing at you out of the corner of your eye. “We… kissed just now.”

He ducks his head, lips curling back in a grimace. “Yeah. We did.”

Pangs hitting your chest, you take a step away from him as he bends down to collect the firewood. The sun’s already beating down on the back of your neck as you glance at the pile of wood. “Do you not like me?”

“What?” He freezes mid-way through grabbing another bundle and you busy yourself with slinging your own carrier onto your back. Your body is burning, and it’s not because of the sun.

“I like you, Reiner, but… if you don’t like me, then I’m okay with pretending that never happened.”

“Of course I like you. You’re a great friend and soldier and—”

You shoot him a furtive look before putting it bluntly: “I like you in the way that I want you to kiss me like that all the time.”

The silence that follows will haunt you for the rest of your life. Your heart pounds in your skull, echoing like the sound of death drums before his shoulders slouch forward and he sighs heavily. You stand upright, head tilting and he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you towards him.

This time, it’s almost devouring the way he kisses you—messy, and warm, and his thumb brushes the underside of his jaw as you bend into his chest, your hands fisted, twisting his shirt at his waist tightly and you barely hear the words he murmurs into your mouth over the pounding of your heart.

“You’re so pretty—“

Panting, he kisses you again and again as you crumple in his arms and you can’t help the stupid smile on your face as you kiss him back, quick punches that last an eternity until they rip themselves off each other. More, Reiner stumbles back, and you tear yourself off of him, just so they remember how to breathe.

Your lungs scrambling for air, your fingers press against your mouth as your gaze falls to the firewood, and Reiner’s heavy breathing can be heard just a few feet away as he falls to his hands and knees. Watching him, your heart cracks into pieces, and there’s a sinking sensation in your stomach.

Reality slams into you like a fucking horse.

“We shouldn’t,” he whispers hoarsely, fingers digging into the dirt. Your eyes wrench to him and he looks up at you harrowingly. “We’re soldiers. We shouldn’t. We could die tomorrow, next week on that expedition even, and this would be for nothing.”

Falling to your knees, you glance down at the dirt. “I like you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You clench your jaw. Your gut cramps as you stare blankly at the grass. “So… what now?” you ask, chest lurching. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know. I just…” A harsh swallow. Your breath burns in your chest. A strange pain stitches into your ribs. “We should stay friends.” Everything inside you drains, and you nod, eyes not rising. Your lips still tingle with the sensation of his mouth against your own, and you swallow the hard knot in your throat, but it only lands like a boulder in your stomach. “It’ll hurt less.”

I don’t think it will, you want to argue. I’ll still want you just as much as I do now.

But you don’t say any of that aloud.

Instead, you try to make it sound joking as you murmur, “You’re the worst.” You flash him a quick smile that you hope dulls the edge of your words, but he merely looks at you numbly.

For a moment, Reiner’s hard frown slips into something more fragile, and he turns away with a hard swallow, whispering out a soft, “I know,” as he gets to his feet and gathers the rest of the firewood. Once his load is on his back, he half-turns to you and he looks at your hands rather than your face. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

You wait until you can’t hear his soft footsteps cushioned by the grass until you pull yourself together. Lifting your face to the sun, wind chases away the heat clouding your cheeks, and soothes the swollen skin around your eyes.

Grabbing the wood, you rub at your face with the back of your hand and when you get back inside, Connie doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong.

Reiner pays the vendor and looks at his cousin, smiling uneasily as she bites into the sandwich. He wouldn’t have much more for the day if they kept going at the pace they’re going, and although he doesn’t mind (not that he could say no) a part of him just wishes he could go home. But Mom had insisted so Gabi could have some supervision and that he needed to get out, she wasn’t getting any younger and he’s so glum!

“You need to find a nice girl, Reiner.”

He doesn’t know what about his appearance when his mom walked into his bedroom screamed romance, but apparently it was what she read between a soaked shirt and wide eyes and pale skin.

He’d woken up in a cold sweat, as he does most days, but this time it’d been haunting.

Because it wasn’t flashes of blood, screams, the glint of metal underneath the grey sun. There was no yellow lightning, no deafening crashes.

It was almost like it wasn’t a dream. Trost had been so real, alive around them as you paid for the honeycomb and as you snuck a bite while you thought he wasn’t looking, he remembered…

The way his heart fluttered, the way he couldn’t stop looking you. There was not a moment he remembers your hand was far from his, when their elbows did not brush, when they left each other for a moment. When did he ever stop thinking about your hands, your laugh, the way you could send him into a flurry thinking what every other word you said meant?

“Reiner? You coming?”

Blinking, he looks over his shoulder to see the others already moving on. Pieck lingers near the back of the group, tilting her head at him and he clears his throat, pocketing his wallet and walking towards her.

He never meant for this. You were never meant to be more important than him than breathing. How does he carve away the prints you’ve left on his lips and eyes? Does he even want to? It’s hard to decide.

Sometimes, he wants to scratch you out of his brain just so you can stop laughing at him. Other times, he wishes he could dig inside his skull and put the memories together in a collage the shape of you just so he has someone to talk to.

“This is so good!” Gabi cries out as Porco sets a hand on her head and Reiner suppresses the smallest smile teasing at his mouth, but it feels tired, and he lets the urge melt away easily. Walking after them slowly, he watches the festival around them, so loud with clowns and buskers and people just talking to one another that it makes his head pound.

His legs feel like they’re about to give up, and his head is heavy as he trails after them.

“Eat slower,” Pieck censures as they migrate through a thicker crowd, “or you’ll get a stomach ache.”

“They might get a stomach ache either way,” Galliard teases. “Do you see how the slobs are eating?” Walking against the tide, Reiner makes sure he doesn’t knock anyone over going too fast in the opposite direction. The energy would be electric if he didn’t feel so bone-tired. Sun warming his face, Reiner lifts his chin to the sky just as the sound of someone’s voice teases his ear range and his head snaps to the sound, eyes widening.

Stopping in his tracks, he searches for the source and his eyes fixate on the same woman in the purple coat. His mouth opens on its own accord and his eyebrows furrow together as she pays the vendor. He tracks her figure with a quick sweep before turning away to make sure he isn’t trailing too far behind the others.

When he glances back, she’s gone.

Fucking ghost.

He shivers, catching up with the group.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” Pieck observes as he empties out his wallet for the last food stall of the afternoon. They’d just finished their slices of something the man had called pizza, and Gabi had insisted on dessert to finish the day. Explains why he’s standing in front of a portly woman who insists on the kids picking which tart they want.

“It’s fine, Pieck,” he assures, closing his wallet and slipping it back into his pocket, significantly lighter than this morning as Falco grabs a pastry glazed with honey and Reiner’s heart seizes in his chest at the golden sugar glistening in the warm sunlight. “They’re growing kids.”

“I don’t think it’s your wallet that’s the problem,” she says. Galliard grabs a tart with flecks of rose petals within the filling and glances over at the two and Reiner arches an eyebrow at the strangled expression on the guy’s face.

Weird, he muses to himself when Porco grabs another tart and begins to walk over to them.

“You seem a bit lost. Did something happen earlier?” Pieck probes. Reiner sighs, crossing his arms, watching the Candidates switch tarts so they can try all the flavours. It’s so effortlessly… innocent, in a sense, in that gesture. Shit, when’s the last time he ever felt like that?

Gold dripping down your wrist… “I can see you eating the honeycomb, you know?”

God, did he want to kiss you then.

“Nothing happened.”

Pieck frowns, but doesn’t argue it further as Porco finally reaches them.

“Which one do you want, Pieck?” he asks, not waiting for an answer before shoving the rose tart into Pieck’s hands. She smiles fondly, reaching forward to flick Porco’s forehead. Reiner rolls his eyes. “The lady said it’s a popular flavour with… the ladies.”

“Thank you, Pock.” She takes a big bite, the sugar glistening her lips and Reiner’s watching Porco’s face which only opens at the pure delight on their pretty little colleague. Mouth snapping shut, Galliard looks away as if that’ll help the faint redness of his ears, and Reiner shakes his head. He chews on his cheek to prevent the soft smirk edging onto his face before he claps Pieck on the shoulder and heads towards the kids.

Behind him, he hears a laugh that could only be Pieck’s followed by grumbling and harsh hushing that could only be Galliard’s.

When he glances over his shoulder, he swears he must’ve imagined Porco kissing the corner of Pieck’s mouth, sugary syrup on his lips, too.

214 notes · View notes

moosoobi · 4 years ago

Text

Battle Royale

(1) Fresh bread, French Prince

G.Lafayette : Hamilton the musical

Sometimes when you work on a project, there are moments when you need to take a break and work on something else. That’s really the case with In The Night, I have all these ideas but sometimes I feel confined to ITN (I literally have not started Chapter 3 when this is posted). And thus this fic was born. I hope you enjoy!

Y/N and Lafayette’s POV

Bridgerton inspired AU (watching the Bridgerton series would probably help in understanding ideas of ‘courting’ and finding a suitors)

Odd social structure (dukes are essentially owners of land which was popularized in London, Washington is considered a president, and Lafayette is now a prince!)

not my cover image 😟

Word count: 4k

Literally the biggest thanks to @deja-you for proofreading and some great feedback, ILY 🧎‍♀️

—-the Washington residence

The dreamy clouds would stream across the sky as Y/N began to read the newest article from Thomas Paine, the most notorious writer known for acknowledging every piece of gossip and whispers among the noble colonists.

The pamphlet felt newly written, as few spots of the odd-smelling ink would smudge. Though Y/N was not awake, a young boy delivered this meticulous pamphlet to the Washington residence before dawn.

As the daughter of the president, being the center of noble gossip was nothing new to her, in fact, gossip was never the center of her attention either. But something about this pamphlet in particular would surely catch her eye.

She began to read:

‘The scene for this courting season is looking quite interesting. Now that these young ladies are finally of age, they will indeed add competition to the scene.’

Ah yes, the annual courting season. A time for women and men to make their move and commence into the adult world. While many aren’t satisfied with their partners, reputation seems to grow higher than feelings.

‘Many pertinent names are included in this season, and I’m honored to document the presence of these people.’

‘The Schuylers: all three of the incredible General Schuyler’s daughters are finally entering the courting scene simultaneously. During the war, many soldier boys would fall head over heels to impress them, and many were unsuccessful. I’m ecstatic to observe the lucky men to take the hand of Angelica, Elizabeth, and Peggy Schuyler.’

‘The Payne’s: Miss Dolley Payne has finally been granted entrance into this courting season. Many theories and speculation suggest that her arrival to the scene at the same time as the other great names was not a coincidence.’

‘And finally, the most significant family joining us this season,’

Y/N sucked in a breath

‘The Washington’s: His grace’s pride and joy, Y/N, will be the most imperative competition this season. The pressure of being the president’s daughter, as well as the stigma of conceiving an heir, follow her wherever she resides. Nonetheless, Y/N Washington is an extraordinary star among the courting scene, and it would indeed be foolish to throw away your shot.’

‘It’s just common sense.’

‘-Thomas Paine’

It would take Y/N a couple moments before her squeals of excitement could be heard across the residence

Shortly after, the rumbles of Y/N racing down the stairs would cause her parents, George and Martha, to take suspicious glances at each other. Y/N finally reached the dinner table where her parents were finishing up their morning tea.

“What’s got you going so early, dear? I usually have to pull you out of bed around this time,” Martha questioned

“Sir Payne wrote about me in the paper! My entrance to the courting scene seems to be the most glittering cluster of ink in this pamphlet” She squealed

Y/N excitedly, yet also harshly, slid the pamphlet over to her parents, moments later they would observe her words to be true

“That’s great, dear” Her father, George, looked up from the paper with a smile. “I know you’ll represent the Washington Family name well, although it’s a shame you’ll have to lose it when you get married” he sighed

“Oh lighten up George, Y/N will be the talk of the town, I’m sure she’ll attract some worthy gentleman”

“Damn right he better be worthy.” His eyes transferred from Martha to Y/N

“Remember Y/N, very few are prepared to handle a Washington, you can even ask your mother.”

Y/N couldn’t hold in a giggle as Martha rolled her eyes. Both Y/N and George watched as Martha arose to place her porcelain dishes in the sink

“Well I must be soo blessed to have to take care of two of them.”

George turned back to Y/N and slid her a letter across the table, keeping another letter in his opposite hand, which was still unopened

“May I ask what this is?” She held up the letter. Even the feeling of the paper could tell Y/N that it came from the colonial gentry. The scent faintly reminded Y/N of champagne and flowers, and the seal was a sparkling coral-pink shade. The letter appeared to be already opened

“The Schuyler’s are inviting you to a small tea get-together, whatever you kids call it.”

Y/N opened the envelope, searching for the details. How exciting was this, to be among the best of the best, especially in the greatest city in the world. Before she could reply, George began to speak again

“I’ve already requested for two escorts to accompany you on your way to the Schuyler residence.” Y/N turned to him in confusion

“Huh?” She questioned “escorts?”

“Now that you’re officially in this courting season, your safety could be potentially in danger. I’m just trying to make you comfortable” He retorted

“Father, I’m sure I’m capable of walking on my own. I mean, the Schuyler residence isn’t even that far and-”

Y/N was interrupted by multiple knocks on her door. She shot a ‘this isn’t over’ glare to her father before wandering over to her front door. She opened the door and found a surprise

The Duke of Monticello and the Duke of Manhattan, my father’s two trusted secretaries. Dropping the formalities, Y/N addressed them by their first name

“Thomas? Alexander? Don’t tell me..” she turned back to her father. Jefferson and Hamilton stood at the doorway, both with flowers and nervous in the presence of Washington

“Father, I’m starting to question whether you worry for my safety, or worry for your pickiness of my suitor.” Thomas and Alex attempted to hold in their laughs as if their lives depended on it

“Of course I do!” He held a hand to his chest as if he was hurt “although I do owe them a favor-” a smirk spread across Thomas’s and Alexander’s face, yet was quickly faded as Washington addressed them

“But no funny business with my daughter. If I hear of any shenanigans from either one of you, you both have serious consequences.” Y/N turned back to the dukes, both of them appearing drained of color.

“Let me get dolled up and we can be on our way” Y/N swiftly ran upstairs, leaving Thomas and Alexander alone in the presence of their boss. Those poor, poor, boys

Five minutes later, Y/N glided down the stairs in her fancier skirt. Her corset gave her an amazing shape, and her hair made her appear to be a celestial being. She caught the dukes’ eyes lingering on her for a little too long. Luckily, Washington wasn’t around. “Let’s keep our focus on what’s really matters, guys” she laughed

“R-right...” they said in unison, both turning away and pretending to be interested in the furniture in the house. Y/N had never seen the two secretaries so calm around each other, it made her realize the power the Washington’s have in the colonies. A simple order from a Washington could probably end wars, especially if it’s capable of making Jefferson and Hamilton contain their pride

“Your graces?” She held out her hands, signifying that she was ready to depart. The dukes held out their forearm and elbows for her to take. Y/N intertwined her arms into theirs, and they headed for the Schuyler residence.

A few minutes down the path and Alexander Hamilton decided to break the silence

“I still can’t believe you’re entering this season, Y/N. I mean, I still remember running around those horrid military camps all those years ago” he chuckled. It’s true, it’s been all these years since the war and so much has changed

“I like to believe I’ve grown into a wonderful, young woman, don’t you think?” I batted my eyelashes towards both of them

“Of course darlin’” Jefferson cut in “but just because we’re your honorable colleagues doesn’t mean Hamilton and I won’t be lining up for your hand”

“Don’t be so sure. I heard this season has a few aggressive competitors on both sides. The Schuylers, the Paynes, even the Madisons! I might have to step up my game. In the meantime, both of you have to keep an open mind.”

Thomas and Hamilton stared at each other, surprised by her response.

“And If I find out that both of you placed bets on which one of you will earn my hand, I’ll be reminding my father to collect both of your heads.”

Their heads hung in defeat “alright, alright darlin’ I think I kind of like my head attached to my body. No need to get violent.”

“Plus I don’t think any of you can truly handle a Washington.” Y/N giggled, her arms still intertwined with theirs

“If Jefferson and I don’t scare away the competition, I’m sure your father will” Alexander chuckled, Thomas visibly reacted to the joke as well

“Oh come on, the two most popular dukes of the colonies have nothing on a suitor that is truly worthy of me” she scoffed

“And where would you find such a worthy contestant? Someone better than a duke?” The three stopped in front of the Schuyler residence

“Don’t kill my hopes, a Washington has her ways” Y/N removed her arms from Thomas’s and Alexander’s, heading for the front door. As soon as she was greeted by General Schuyler herself, she waved goodbye to the clashing dukes

“She’s so mine, Hamilton.” Thomas stated

“I’m sure you should be worried about your tomcat nature, Jefferson, don’t get too ahead of yourself” Alex retorted

Jefferson audibly scoffed before wandering with him into the city

—-France

3 weeks prior to Y/N reading that exciting pamphlet, Marquis de Lafay-- Now Prince Lafayette sat around a table of French nobles and officials. It felt like ages since he’s been in the colonies, and it has only been a few years ever since the French Revolution had ended. Yet instead of abolishing the monarchy system in France as Lafayette promised to the colonies, he and a few other nobles replaced the previous royal family.

Lafayette was later titled as a Prince, as were other leading men of France, but he urged to continue being addressed as the ‘Hero of two worlds’.

But with a new era upon the people of France, came the countless government meetings and conflicts that he had to resolve.

“Your Majesty? Are you even paying attention?” Secretary Robespierre whispered over his shoulder, causing him to visibly straighten himself out.

“O-Oui. Why wouldn’t I be?” Lafayette laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. Robespierre rolled his eyes before whispering again.

“This is our last meeting of the day. With all due respect sir, can you get yourself together?”

“Okay, Okay.” Lafayette sighed with boredom

He missed the colonies dearly, sometimes he wished he never left at all, but seeing his country yearn for a revolution compelled him to sail across the Atlantic once again. He often daydreamed of his riskier lifestyle with his closest friends and soldiers, as well as the feeling of awe while serving directly under General Washington. Never in his life did Lafayette think he would miss the adrenaline rush of stealing cannons and leading fully arm battalions.

His teenage memories of fooling around in those military camps, wandering the streets of New York City severely intoxicated, and the best memories of all, the memories of escorting the General’s daughter, Y/N Washington, to buy bread and pastries for him and his fellow soldiers.

Oh, what could she be doing now?

If it weren’t for the revolution at hand, Lafayette would’ve surely bent a knee once she set foot onto the military camping grounds. Lafayette held such a high respect for Y/N when they first met, especially since she was the daughter of his most admired general. The women in France just couldn’t compare to her heavenly beauty, and her kindness was unbeatable. She was the greatest treasure that Lafayette had stumbled across during his time in the colonies. Although many noblewomen would attempt to take a bite of him, Lafayette stayed loyal to his non-existent promise to Y/N.

A quick quill-slam to the table, and he was quickly drawn back to his reality. Why should he worry about his previous General’s daughter anyway? Lafayette was now a Prince, he could have anything he wanted. But the moment he set foot in France after the American Revolution, he lost the most precious things he already had. He yearned for glory, but at what cost? The cost of abandoning his bonds in the colonies?

He sighed, standing from the meeting table and wandering to his quarters. Secretary Robespierre followed closely behind him. Sensing an odd tension from Lafayette’s mood, Robespierre attempted to address his situation

“Do you need anything, your majesty?” Lafayette froze in his tracks, weighing his two options

“Actually...” Lafayette turned to face him “Schedule me a ship to the colonies. The earliest one you can find.”

Robespierre tilted his head in confusion, letting the last sentence sizzle in his head.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The prince in distress sighed with fatigue. “I’ve decided I’m heading to the colonies, tout suite.” Lafayette kept his gaze strong

‘B-but sir, you have so much to take care of-” Robespierre was notably panicking at this moment. “-and the recent shortages-”

“Mon Ami, there are at least three other ‘crowned princes’ who are perfectly capable of maintaining this nation. One prince gone won’t hurt the economy” Prince Lafayette stated firmly

Robespierre debated for a moment before confirming his thoughts “Alright. I’ll notify you when the earliest ship can be sailed. But what shall you do about the gossip? Perhaps they will believe you are not responsible enough for this role.”

“Let the people speak as they please. In the end, I’ll remind them who’s in charge.” Lafayette began towards his quarters once again, Robespierre stayed behind to script all of his thoughts.

Finally in his study, Lafayette dipped his quill into the nearest container of ink and started to write.

‘To the Great General Washington, It’s been ages since we’ve last written…’

Maybe Lafayette will be able to have a taste of his old life.

---the Schuyler residence

Giggling echoed throughout the Schuyler residence as the 5 girls enjoyed their tea.

“Have you gals read Payne’s newest pamphlet? We’re the talk of the town as of now” Angelica, the oldest Schuyler, smiled with satisfaction. Her luminous complexion complemented her coral pink gown.

“I never expected our courting debut to be so..” Eliza searched for the right words “..turbulent among the talkers..” she took a sip of her tea

“I’m still stunned by the feedback” Y/N laughed nervously “My father even requested his two most clashing secretaries to escort me here, they didn’t even argue once” she said in awe

The top 5 girls of the season all sat in one room. Though they would eventually become each other's courting competition, they were great friends nonetheless. During the war, Y/N would stay in the Schuyler household while their fathers were out of town daydreaming of being free from the king, attending a few balls together, and watching soldier boys trip over themselves. After the war ended, Dolley Paine became a mutual connection through their high ranking families. The 5 got along way too quickly.

Peggy held up the tea pot “another fill, ladies?” Y/N and Dolley nodded, both taking their turns to fill their cups.

“Awee, look at you Peggy, you’ll make a perfect wife” Dolley teased. The rest of the girls laughed it off, yet Y/N didn’t feel at ease with that statement.

“You don’t actually think we will all get married that quickly, do you?” Y/N looked around to see their confused expressions. “Guys?”

“Well..” Angelica pondered for a moment “I believe that it’s ideal to marry on your first season”

Peggy had to stop herself from spitting out her tea

“That soon? But we’re so young, and-” Eliza interrupted

“And we’re ladies. Society expects us to do nothing more and nothing less with what we’re given” Angelica takes a content sip of her tea once again “I don’t make the rules around here.”

The silence was awfully louder than the conversation.

“Alright.” Dolley smiled “I guess we'll just have to make this next few weeks extra special, right?”

Y/N took a deep breath “the best of the best.” She muttered

Peggy turned to her and nodded, and Eliza was quick to join. Y/N faked a smile at the girls, ‘I guess that’s just how it is’ is what she thought, and Angelica would raise her glass for a toast

“A toast to the best courting season?” The 4 other girls raised their glass as well.

Though many hours were filled with laughter and giggles, Y/N couldn’t help but imagine how much her life would change within the next few months. And just by entering this season, Y/N will give up her youth and give someone her hand to please someone. To please herself? To please the people? To please her parents? She had no clue

She stared out the window, remembering those nights of staying at the Schuyler residence, watching those drunk soldiers stumble across the street. Many of them were her friends, friends she had met through her fathers rank. She smiled at the thought of the most memorable gentleman she had met while at those camps.

‘The French Foreigner’ is what they used to call him, but only before he became comfortable in the colonies. ‘Marquis de Lafayette’ was his title, and Y/N always loved the sound of his name rolling off her tongue.

“I don’t know what my father told you, but I’m sure I don’t need you to accompany me simply to buy bread” Y/N stood stubbornly

Lafayette gently grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips

“I just want you to be safe, mon ange, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt..”

He kissed the back of her hand, maintaining eye contact. Y/N appeared as if she just experienced a revelation “..shall we be on our way, mademoiselle?”

She took a moment to think, her head still in the clouds. Y/N slowly nodded “Alright.” The two intertwined arms and headed into the city

Oh how she missed the old days. Y/N hated to admit it, but she truly believed she met the most exquisite gentlemen during the war. Whenever she’d stay at the camps with her father, a small group of soldiers would always keep her company. A tailor, an abolitionist, two immigrants, the camps were definitely a mixing pot.

At that very moment, Y/N prayed she’d be able to find someone like the men at her fathers military camp during this courting season.

Y/N jumped at the tapping on her shoulder

“Y/N? Don’t tell me you already have suitors lining up out there for you” Y/N shook her head and laughed

“I just spaced out. That’s all.” She attempted to change the subject “What were we talking about?” She questioned

Peggy interrupted “Next week's ball, the first ball of the season. Do we show up in our best, or do we build suspense until the last seasonal ball?” Peggy debated

“Let’s take one ball at a time, shall we?” Eliza proposed her idea

“Well for the first ball, I suggest….” All the girls gathered around Angelica to hear her plan

—-Lafayette’s quarters (France)

Prince Lafayette neatly folded his clothes as he was departing for the colonies within a few hours. He remembers the excitement he felt when he traveled to the colonies for the first time, having to dress like a pregnant woman in order to board the ship, but he still cringes at the imagery.

He elegantly stuffed his belongings into his shoulder bag. He stood back to admire his rushed work, but he felt as if he was missing something.

Lafayette looked around his quarters, his eyes became glued on his treasured gun, gifted to him by General Washington himself. The wooden hilt was stained with god knows what, but the gold trimmings were shining in the afternoon sunlight.

He’d already have French soldiers accompanying him, he was a prince after all. Would he need such weaponry?

“I do not see why not.” He muttered to himself before stuffing it into his bag with the rest of his belongings. Lafayette dusted off his fancy clothing and stood in triumph, well, before a woman cleared her throat behind him.

Lady Adrienne stood at the doorway to his study, her emerald green skirts creased against the doorframe. Lafayette and Adrienne previously courted before he left for the colonies, which ended up being her last straw. Lady Adrienne attempted to stop him, since she was a loyalist to the monarchs of France, but Lafayette refused to listen.

“que veux-tu? I'm busy at the moment.” Lafayette covered his bag with a nearby coat, crossing his arms.

“I heard you’re going back to the colonies. What’s so special across the ocean that you can’t have here? You’re a prince for god sake”

“It’s none of your concern, get out of-”

“Last time you left for the colonies- left me for the colonies- you just weren’t the same when you came back.” she was on the verge of yelling

Lafayette sighed, having already been through this conversation ever since he came back to France.

“This is nonsense. I need to be alone as of now.” Lafayette turned away from her to continue packing his belongings. She had a hurt expression on her face; part of her mind refused to believe he wasn’t her suitor anymore. Ever since he left for the colonies.

She slowly began to advance towards him. “That is no way to talk to your previous courting partner, Lafayette.” Her tone was strong yet unsure.

“It’s Prince Lafayette to you, and there’s a reason why we’re not courting now..” He was notably irritated by her presence.

Lady Adrienne wasn’t leaving his quarters until she was given an answer.

“Was I not enough for you to stay in France…?” she rested a hand on his shoulders, Lafayette visibly cringed. “What’s in the colonies that you can’t have here?”

Lafayette swiftly turned towards her, brushing her hand off of his shoulder in disgust. “I don’t have to answer to you—“ he attempted to retort

“—Don’t tell me you’re still mad that I had more faith in the monarchs of our country rather than you”

Lady Adrienne rolled her eyes annoyingly, Lafayette blood had already begun boiling long ago. She started moving closer to Lafayette, attempting to trap him in his room, and forcing him to stay in France. Although this was her main plan, she wanted an answer, and she wanted it now.

“Your own lover didn’t believe in you. Is that why you’re so upset? It’s quite the reaction for something so minuscule—” she scoffed.

Lafayette snapped

“—as a matter of fact, you weren’t my lover. It’s not you, its...”

Lafayette, clearly frustrated, struggled to hold up under his old friend’s gaze. She saw it in his eyes, the way they lightened when he thought about the colonies.

She saw a similar light in them the day he returned from France. Perhaps it was the praise he obtained for the foreign war, or perhaps some treasures he discovered, or maybe someone.

“Lafayette... Did you find another partner in the colonies?”

The panic was visible in his eyes, but there no was no reason to panic, he thought.

Lafayette brushed up against lady Adrienne, his lips were millimeters from her ear. He began

“Our relationship ended from the moment I set foot on that ship, and I do not regret it one bit..”

He stepped out of her reach and continued to pack away his belongings, Lady Adrienne was frozen with shock.

“My business in the colonies is my business only,” He stated strongly. “And you are free to believe whatever you want, it would benefit me in the least to care about what you think. Am I being clear?”

Lady Adrienne could only stand in silence

“Security! I’d love for you to escort this maiden out of this quarters at once!”

He’d never forget the hatred in her eyes as she was humiliatingly taken away. Lafayette kept his mind on his current task: the colonies await his arrival.

—to be continued—

#alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #hamilton #hamilton fanfic #hamiltrash #daveed diggs #thomas jefferson x reader #hamiltonau #lafayette x reader #alexander x reader #hamilton masterlist #battle royale #so hyped for this series #sorry to in the night chapter 3 for not starting you HAHA #hamilton the musical #george washington #daveed x reader #somewhat Ig #hamilton musical

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justanobsessedfangirl · 4 years ago

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Once Bitten, Twice Shy - Chapter 4 - The Maze Runner Newt Fic

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

Once Bitten, Twice Shy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Author’s Note: Thanks to everyone who’s reading! I’m going to do more planning and hopefully I’ll have a schedule figured out/posted so I don’t keep leaving you all in the dark about when I’m going to upload.

Word Count: 3.0k

You’d slept through the night. For the first time in weeks, you’d slept through the night, spending hours in a peaceful, dreamless slumber. As you opened your eyes, you felt the last wisps of sleep slide languidly off your body and settle in the recesses of your mind, content to wait until called upon.

Your bed was warmer than usual. Minho must have found you another blanket; the one under your cheek was gray. You didn’t have any gray blankets.

You blinked. The blanket underneath you shifted. Jerking away, heart racing, you frantically rubbed your eyes. When you opened them again, you saw the same thing: a waking Newt, leaning against the back of a chair in the Runner’s Hut, his arms open where you’d just been nestled into him.

Brown eyes blinked slowly at you. His lips formed a smile you’d seen so many times before, the one he always had when the morning sun hit the two of you as you stirred to consciousness in your bed. It was slow and relaxed and loving.

A dark blush rose on your cheeks. You stood up and everything that had been peaceful about the moment snapped away. You were back in reality.

I don’t love him anymore. I don’t.

You had to turn away to stop yourself from kissing him. “I have to go, I’m probably already late for...” you trailed off.

Newt, thankfully, didn’t mention how today was your rest day. Instead, he nodded. “I have to go too.” He rose, running a hand through his hair. “But if you’re not too busy, we could always use help in the Gardens.” He seemed so sheepish standing there in front of you, a pale pink creeping up his neck.

You were sure your face was red. You’d slept with him before, but that was when you were together, not in this strange purgatory. Everything was too intimate just then, the maps on the table, the untouched sandwich, Newt’s messy bed-head - they all served as reminders of the night before. The night that shouldn’t have happened.

“Um, maybe,” you replied. Then you turned your back on him and fled through the door. The four steps it took felt like they went on for years. You ran.

On autopilot, your feet led you to the Kitchen. A few boys were finishing breakfast at the tables, but the sun was already high in the sky, so most of the Gladers were out working.

“There’s my favorite Runner!” Frypan crowed. He was stirring a pot and wearing a broad grin.

You made your way over to him, managing a tight-lipped smile. Your mind was still fuzzy. The parts of your body that had been touching Newt yearned to feel him again, to fall back asleep with him, to feel safe.

“Slept in today, huh?” Frypan grabbed a nearby bowl and scooped a ladleful of oatmeal into it. With a flourish, he pulled a spoon out of his stained apron and stuck it in the oatmeal. “Don’t give me that look, it’s clean.”

You accepted the bowl hesitantly, pulled the spoon out, inspected it, then took a small bite of oatmeal. Cinnamon and brown sugar danced across your tongue. When you smiled at Frypan this time, it was almost natural. With every second that passed, you grew farther and farther from the Runner’s Hut. You could feel your shoulders already tensing under the heavy burden of stress. “Did Minho and Alby leave yet?”

Frypan nodded. “Crack of dawn.”

You took a bite, swallowing your resentment over not going with them. Another question rolled around in your head. “Were you there last night? When they put Ben -- when they banished him?”

Frypan stirred the oatmeal. His stare was focused on it, his brow heavy over his eyes. “Yes.” Another stir. “It was the right thing to do. Alby said so. Everyone agreed.”

The oatmeal didn’t seem as appetizing anymore, but when Frypan leveled his gaze on you, you took a bite, if only so you’d have more time to think about what to say. “It was right. He tried to kill Thomas.” Your stomach churned.

Nodding, Frypan stepped away from the pot. “Speaking of Thomas,” Frypan wiped his hands on his apron and smiled, “he and Chuck came by looking for you. Something about how you promised to spend the day with them? Chuck seemed pretty excited.”

You huffed out a laugh. “I bet. Do you know where they went?”

“They’re working in the Gardens today.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from muttering, “Of course they are.”

Frypan ignored you. “You better get a move on unless you want to help me wash all the dishes.”

For a second you almost said you would, but in your mind’s eye you could still see the earnestness on Chuck’s face at the bonfire, and you could still see Newt. You shook your head and scarfed down the last bites of oatmeal. “You’re on your own, Fry.” Shoving the bowl into his hands, you darted away to the sound of his laughter.

On your way to the Gardens, you passed a few Gladers. Exchanging greetings and idle chat about the weather helped delay your arrival, but all too soon you found yourself standing before rows of crops, scanning the area for Chuck and Thomas and, secretly, Newt.

Chuck saw you first. “Y/N!” he called from the tomato plants. He was waving his hands. Thomas was next to him, holding a half-full basket of tomatoes that were almost as red as his cheeks.

“She heard you, Chuck,” you heard Thomas mumble as you approached them.

Chuck paid no attention to the older boy. “I knew you’d come! Thomas wasn’t sure, but I knew. Thomas said you might have better things to do but I said that you mainly just run in the Maze all the time, so don’t even know what you would do on a day off. Oh, Thomas, that’s a good tomato, put it in the basket. How long has it been since your last day off, Y/N? A long time, right? I told Thomas I couldn’t even remember your last day off, so maybe it was before I came.”

You inspected a tomato, trying to keep your face neutral. “Not too long.” Not long enough. “Think this one’s good, Thomas?”

“I’m not much of a gardener.” He leaned in anyway. “It looks good enough to me.” Thomas held out the basket.

Chuck moved closer, mimicking Thomas’s actions. “Yup, looks good to me too. I say put it in the basket.”

You smiled and complied. “Thanks, Chuck.” The three of you moved down the row, passing over a few plants that bore only unripe tomatoes. “So, you don’t think you’ll be a Gardener?” Scanning Thomas, you said, “You could be a Track-Hoe, you look strong enough for it.”

Thomas quickly turned away from you, grabbing a tomato and thoroughly examining it, avoiding your eyes like the plague. Chuck giggled, only getting louder when Thomas shot him a glare. “No, I, uh...” He took a deep breath. “What’s it like being a Runner?” he finally asked, still staring at the tomato.

You plucked the vegetable from his hand. “You want to be a Runner?”

Thomas met your gaze. There was some nervousness in his brown eyes, but there was also fire. Fire you’d seen in Minho’s eyes before heading into the Maze. Fire you’d seen in Alby’s eyes during a meeting. Fire you’d seen in Newt’s eyes when he looked at you.

Passion. Determination.

“I need to be a Runner.” He said it like a fact, like it was an undeniable truth of the universe.

You felt trapped in his stare until Chuck took the basket and nudged your side. Dropping the tomato in, you shook yourself and began walking down the row again. “You’ll have to talk to Minho about that, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. No Greenies in the Maze.”

Thomas trotted to your side. “How’d you become a Runner?”

You plucked a ripe tomato and handed it to Chuck, remembering the night you’d told Newt you needed to be a Runner.

No, he’d said immediately. Please, love. It’s dangerous. We can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.

He’d begged you. Overhead, the stars had twinkled like nothing was amiss, and in the Glade, you and Newt had sat in a hammock, moving closer and closer as the sky darkened.

I need to, Newt. I don’t know how to explain it, but I know that’s what I’m supposed to do. Don’t you ever feel like that? Like you have some greater purpose?

He’d looked at you like you hung the moon. He’d looked at you like you were the sun. He’d looked at you and nodded and told you about how he hurt his leg. Somewhere in the middle of his story, your fingers had become intertwined. You’d stroked the back of his hand with your thumb as he bared his soul.

When he was done, you’d told him how afraid you’d been ever since you woke up in the Box. He’d understood. God, he’d understood so well. You’d let your guard slip enough to welcome him in, and he did the same, and you’d felt safe sitting next to him. With the sun peeking above the horizon, he’d leaned in, or maybe you’d leaned in, or maybe you’d both done it at the same time because the moment was perfect.

But you couldn’t tell Thomas all of that. You settled for saying, “I convinced Minho and...Newt. But it took a while.” You hoped the Greenie couldn’t hear your voice waver.

Somewhere in the background, Chuck was gabbing about the tomato he was holding, but your attention was focused on Thomas when he said, “You and Newt seemed pretty tense at the bonfire. Did something happen?”

Your tongue was too big for your mouth, too big to form a response. Turning into the next row, you parted your lips. Any words you might have had vanished as you came face to face with Margaret.

All of the blood drained from her cheeks. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, though she said nothing.

Standing opposite her, opposite the girl who’d helped break your heart, you felt a swirl of emotions so strong you were light-headed. Anger made your hands tremble. Sadness threatened to release the tears you’d held hostage for a month.

“Hey, Margaret!” Chuck’s childish enthusiasm toward her was a slap in the face. “I didn’t know you worked in the Gardens. This is Thomas, he’s the new Greenbean. I bet you’re happy people won’t call you that anymore! Well, sometimes they might, some people still call me a Greenie, but I think that’s just because I’m kind of young, and you’re not that young, so you should be fine. Not that you’re old! I’m not calling you old. You’re Y/N’s age, right, Y/N?”

You looked at Margaret, with her shock of fiery red hair pulled back in a ponytail, her large green eyes, the freckles that spotted her cheeks. She is my age. She’s a teenager. A dumb, foolish teenager. “Yeah. Same age.” Your voice was faint. Newt’s a dumb, foolish teenager, too. Dumb, foolish teenagers make mistakes.

Margaret’s eyes were as large as plates. You thought she might cry. “Y/N,” she choked out. “I’m so-”

You walked past her, anger fading into confusion. You saw Thomas at the edge of your vision, although he could have been lightyears away based on how disconnected you felt. Chuck was behind you, saying goodbye to Margaret. His words seemed like they were spoken underwater. “She’s what happened between Newt and me.” Your mouth was moving, but was that really your voice speaking? It rang in your ears, she’s what happened she’s what happened she’s what happened.

“Oh,” came Thomas’s reply. “I’m sorry for asking about it.”

You looked up, meeting his brown eyes. They were darker than Newt’s, and, although they looked at you softly, they didn’t make your heart flutter. “It’s okay,” you said. I don’t think it is, you thought, I don’t think I’m okay. You’d been so sure that you hated Newt. You’d repeated it like a prayer. I hate him, he hurt me, he did this on purpose.

But he apologized to you. He comforted you. He held you. Somewhere behind you, Margaret’s apology lingered unsaid.

“There are other things to focus on,” you said. You had to think about things that made sense. Fact: you needed to escape. Fact: you had to explore the Maze to do that. After a beat of silence, you added, “I’ll talk to Minho about you becoming a Runner. We need more people like you.”

“Really?” Hopefulness filled Thomas’s voice.

You nodded for Thomas. Your feet were on the ground, your hands were holding a basket, and you were going to be focused, and that was how everything would end up okay. You nodded again. That one was for you.

You spent the day picking fruits and vegetables from the Gardens, managing to avoid both Newt and Margaret. Whenever you thought you saw one of them through the rows, you would divert your group in the opposite direction. Thomas was smart enough to pick up on what you were doing, and either of you could easily distract Chuck to wander where you wanted.

By the end of the day, you were sweaty and hungry, but you hadn’t had to talk to Newt or Margaret. Now you just needed to see Minho come through the Maze doors, unharmed, and you’d be able to say that the day was almost good.

“Are they usually back by now?” Thomas asked.

You glanced up at the setting sun. “Minho’s smart. And fast.” It wasn’t an answer to his question; it was what you needed to say to reassure yourself.

Other Gladers were waiting at the door too. Newt had joined the group only a few minutes before. Luckily, Winston had struck up a conversation with him, but you could still feel the weight of his eyes on you. You shifted behind Thomas's tall frame for cover and restrained yourself from looking back at Newt.

Now, though, as the sun dipped even lower in the sky, you stepped away from Thomas and Chuck, closer to the entrance. If you stared hard enough, you’d be able to see Minho and Alby rushing down the corridor. You were sure of it. Any second now. Any. Second.

The Maze began to growl. Massive stones shook as the door started to move. The rumbling of a great beast filled the air.

You edged closer to the door. The line of boys moved with you, Thomas by your side, Newt somewhere behind you, close enough that you could feel his presence.

“There!” You pointed. Coming around the corner was Minho, half-carrying a limping Alby.

All at once, the Glade was shouting. “Hurry!” “You can make it!” “Keep going!” “You got it, Minho! You got it, Alby!” “Run!” “Run!” “Run!”

Minho shuffled along faster. His face was screwed up with exertion. Opening his mouth in a yell, he took a great lunge forward, then another.

The doors were halfway closed.

You bolted to the Maze. You ran hard through the yelling of the Gladers and the grinding, heart-wrenching sound of the closing door. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Thomas running too, a lithe flash.

Then you were on the ground. A body was on top of you, holding you down, and you were flailing and kicking and trying to get back up, needing to get back up and get into the Maze. Minho was in there, your partner was in there! Minho and Alby, your partner and your leader, and they both needed help and you knew you could help them.

But there were more hands on you, holding you down. You slammed a fist into the ground. You clawed at the dirt and tried to jab an elbow behind you, but the calloused hand of a Builder shoved it back down. A hand that was meant to be comforting was on your back. You wanted to rip it off. All you could do was watch and struggle and see Thomas vanish into the Maze with Minho and Alby as the door slammed shut.

You’d never wanted to be in the Maze so bad.

You’d never been so angry.

The people around you began drifting away. Hands and arms and legs shifted out of sight. When the person on top of you stood, the person who’d started it all, you knew who you’d see before you turned.

Newt was holding a hand out to help you up. He was the picture of concern. Soft brown eyes, knitted eyebrows, parted pink lips.

You rose slowly, ignoring his help. Your whole body shook in fury. He must have thought you were crying, because he stepped forward, arms open to embrace you.

You shoved him as hard as you could. Only a small part of you felt bad watching him stumble to the ground. The rest of you felt only red.

“This is your fault. This is all your fault,” you started, teeth gritted so hard you thought they’d break. You began at a whisper, but each word grew louder until you were shouting. “This is all your fault! I could’ve helped them! I should’ve been in there! I should be in there!”

You turned back to the Maze, fists clenched in rage. You wanted to beat your way through the walls. You wanted to climb up the ivy and rappel down the other side. You wanted to hurt someone, and that scared you so badly that you had to run, like you always did, like you always would. You ran for the trees, where no one could see you. You ran wildly, full of fear, anger, regret, so many emotions you didn’t know what to do with them, you didn’t know who to turn to, you didn’t know what to do. You just kept running. And when you were hidden, you cried for Minho and Alby and Thomas and Newt and the person you had become. And then you ran more.

Tag List: @anyasthoughts

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters! Thanks for reading :)

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litwitlady · 4 years ago

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to make the desert bloom

The first time Michael pawns off a few feet of stolen copper wire he makes $68. He’s been totally swindled - the wire easily worth more than double that. But it’s enough to pay the remainder on his cell phone bill so he’s thrilled with the transaction.

A few months later Michael risks stealing a small spool of wire. He’s wised up about the wire’s worth, but still accepts a criminally low cash offer. But alongside the cash, he’s also negotiated a broken power drill. He has it fixed within the hour and that’s how his tool collection starts.

Word gets around about the kid who practically gives away copper for nothing more than a few crumpled bills and some rusty old tools. Michael happily accepts broken wrenches, bent screwdrivers, and even a table saw with the cord cut off. He makes enough money to put gas in his truck and keep food on his table. And collects enough tools to supplement his income with various side-gigs.

By his twenty-first birthday, he’s even got $400 saved in his new bank account. His crime completely victimless, as far as he’s concerned. Old Man Sanders never once showing any interest in the piles of copper in the makeshift garage shed. What Sanders doesn’t miss can’t hurt him. And what Sanders doesn’t miss has saved Michael’s life on more than one occasion.

No one but his customers are aware of his scheme. A conman playing easily into the hands of lesser grifters. Until the day he overspends on one of Isobel’s birthday gifts.

She opens the newspaper wrapped box and immediately shoves the gift back into Michael’s chest. ‘You’re stealing now?’

He frowns down at the handwoven scarf. Realizes his mistake. And sighs. Because yes, he’s stealing now.

‘It’s not a big deal, Iz. Just some copper wire no one’s going to miss.’ He tries to give the scarf back to her, but she folds her arms across her chest and levels him with her deadliest glare.

‘Return the scarf, Michael. Give the money back to whoever you stole the wire from.’ Her face softens and she reaches out for his knee. ‘If you need money, I have more than I know what to do with. And we’re family.’

He kisses her cheek, shrugging off her offer. ‘I’ll be okay.’

She settles against him, interlocking their elbows and leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘You know I love you, right?’

‘I know. Me too.’ And it’s the truth. But he’ll never take her money.

That’s the last time he steals anything from Sanders for a long time. Until Alex Manes comes barrelling back into his life after his longest absence yet.

They crash back together like always. Shacking up in his trailer for hours at a time, rediscovering each other’s bodies. And Michael allows himself to believe that they will finally make it happen this time. But then Isobel arrives with a bag of bagels and wakes him from his dream.

Once he’s able to shoo her away, he watches Alex practically fall out of the airstream in his haste to get away. Michael holds up the bag of bagels, but Alex shrugs him off and climbs into his Explorer. The engine whines - needing a new timing belt - as he flees from the junkyard.

Michael eats all six bagels and then steals the largest spool of copper he can find. It’s almost like he wants Alex to catch him. You’re wasting your life, Guerin on a constant loop inside his head.

And maybe he is. Wasting his life. On a boy he’ll never be good enough for.

That night at the drive-in he plays out the final act of their charade. Stupid alien movie and grease-soaked food, hands brushing accidentally as they both grab for a new beer with the anticipation of sex heavy between them.

A dance with Jesse Manes.

A trade with Renly Thomas.

He makes the most he’s ever made that night. Almost twice what the copper is worth. But he ends the evening in red regardless.

Eventually, he confesses the whole scheme to Sanders. Promising to pay him back. Sanders turns down the offer, but Michael starts saving the money anyway. It’s what he imagines his mother would expect of him.

He starts taking classes at Roswell Tech. He stops drinking.

One night, a recently single Alex sits on the stool next to him at the Pony. Leans his elbow on the bartop and turns to Michael. ‘I need a favor.’

Michael drops his hat onto the bartop and snorts. Raises his glass of water to his lips but doesn’t drink. ‘A favor?’

Alex scratches at a divot in the chipped wood bar. Avoiding Michael’s gaze. ‘I need a few feet of copper wire.’

He’s convinced he’s heard him wrong. ‘What?’

‘Three feet. Three feet of copper wire. Heard you were the guy to talk to.’ His lips quirk up at the corner. And Michael suspects he’s being played.

‘Fuck off, Alex.’ There’s no bite in his words, just a sad sort of ruefulness. He slides off his seat and drops his hat back on his head. ‘You can afford to buy your own copper.’

He stalks out of the bar, too sober to stay and argue with an ex who will always be more than an ex.

The sky is dark and near moonless. Broken glass splinters beneath his boots. A couple arguing loudly distracts him as he walks out to his truck parked near the highway. Unaware that he’s being followed.

When he finally looks up, he stops dead in his tracks. A large dark object sits in the bed of his truck. And it definitely wasn’t there when he’d last climbed out of the Chevy.

He squints, trying to make out what the object could be without getting any closer. But it’s no use. A voice from behind startles him.

‘Won’t work without the wire.’

Alex.

Michael sighs and turns to him. ‘What won’t work?’

‘The sign I made.’ He motions to the back of Michael’s truck. ‘Electrical connections aren’t complete yet. Guess you’ll have to take it home and fix that.’ He hands Michael a brand new reel of copper wire. ‘Let me know how it goes.’

Michael gives him the dirtiest side-eye. But Alex only laughs and turns away. Michael ignores whatever the sign is and slides behind the steering wheel. Riding back to the junkyard in silence.

He sits inside his trailer for a long time. Doing his best to ignore what’s still in his truck. It only works for an hour before he’s back outside and threading the wire through the back of the oak sign. Completing all the electrical connections and yawning through several dramatic sighs.

Once the wiring is finished, he plugs the cord into his power pack and watches as a soft neon glow lights up the night. He stays behind the sign. Protecting himself from whatever it says.

At some point, Isobel arrives. Walks slowly towards him, purples and blues lighting up her face - brow deeply furrowed. ‘Um, Michael? Is there something you want to tell me?’ She motions to the sign and his fear increases tenfold.

He shakes his head, hops up onto the worktable behind him, and carelessly swings his legs back and forth. Trying for nonchalance. ‘Nope. Just fixing Alex’s sign.’

Her mouth falls agape and her eyes go wide. ‘Alex made this?’

Michael nods.

‘How the fuck are you this calm?’ She’s frantically waving her arms in a decidedly un-Isobel like fashion.

‘Don’t care what it says.’ He’s nervous though. Slips off the table and grabs the leftover copper. It’s probably more than what he stole in the first place. Tosses it onto Sanders’ stack. Suddenly very suspicious about Alex’s intentions.

‘Michael. Come here, right now.’ Her arms are crossed. Death glare back in place. But then she dissolves into high-pitched giggles and he’s never felt a fear so great in all his life.

He bites the bullet and goes to stand beside her. The first thing he notices is how pretty the lights are - pastel neons with a haunting glow. Very reminiscent of the alien tech on his console.

The words take a minute to form in his mind. He struggles with them. Blinks rapidly several times. Shakes his head and tries again. But each time he lands on the same phrase.

MARRY ME.

‘It’s a joke right? Gotta be.’ Michael swallows hard and stares at the words until they grow fuzzy, losing all meaning. ‘We’re not even dating, Iz.’

Isobel wraps her arm around him and hugs him close. ‘I think you’ve been dating since you were seventeen. Maybe not in the conventional sense - but dating all the same.’ She sighs at the romance of it all. ‘And now he wants more than that.’ She pinches his ribs.

‘Ow! What was that for?’

‘I can already hear you trying to find some reason to reject him. I will not let you ruin this for me, Michael. Do you understand me? I have a wedding to plan.’ She pulls out her phone and starts flipping through her calendar. ‘Spring or fall?’

Michael rolls his eyes and turns at the sound of tires on gravel. Isobel squeals when she recognizes Alex’s Explorer. Michael’s heart starts to race.

Alex climbs out slowly. Eyeing the sign over Michael’s shoulder. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’ As if that’s all the explanation required. ‘Phone was too quiet.’

Isobel flies into Alex’s arms, nearly knocking him over. But his eyes never leave Michael’s.

‘Give him some space, Isobel.’ She pulls away and looks back and forth between the two of them. Smiling so wide it’s contagious. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’ She kisses both of them on the cheek and leaves them to their fate.

She stays up all night preparing mood boards.

Back at the junkyard, Alex shoves his hands into his pockets. Feeling naked under Michael’s intense gaze. He waits anxiously for Michael to say something - to say anything.

‘I guess I just don’t understand. Where did this suddenly come from?’ Michael leans against an old junker, watching Alex fidget.

‘Honestly?’ He looks up at the stars and then back down to Michael. ‘I’ve been sort of miserable lately. And one day I looked at my reflection in the mirror and asked myself why.’ He shrugs his shoulders and laughs softly. ‘Got dressed and went to the hardware store.’

Michael studies the perfectly formed tube lights. ‘Quite the talent you got there. And completely new to me.’

Alex grins, his anxiety easing a bit. ‘I had help.’

‘And this isn’t a joke?’

‘Not a joke. Not remotely a joke.’ He takes several steps towards Michael. Stopping an arm’s length away. ‘I don’t mean tomorrow. Or next month. Hell, maybe not even next year. But one day. When we’re both ready. That’s what I want.’

Michael nods and pushes off the junker. Now only half an arm’s length away. He looks back at the sign. ‘I’m ready whenever you are.’ Drags his eyes slowly back to Alex.

They smile at each other, still able to blush after all these years. And regardless of who moves first, they both land in one another’s arms. Haloed by the sign’s luminescent proposal.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #trash fluff

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spicycreativity · 3 years ago

Text

Soft-Shoe Shuffle - Ch 1

Chapter: 1/12 Rating: T (for language) Content Warnings: Canon-typical Remus content. This chapter only: alcohol use Characters: All Pairings: Moceit, background Prinxiety, background Intrulogical (yes I played a little game of "pair the spares") Additional Tags: Hey it's the fic I published on Anon because I was embarrassed of how utterly pretentious it is!, post-PoF, sickfic, dirty poetry, humor interspersed with philosophy and Janus-typical pontification, this is VERY speculative and will get Jossed in the future lmao Summary: After claiming his place in the Light and coming face-to-face with the consequences of his actions, Janus finds himself unwillingly re-calibrating his moral compass. For selfish reasons, of course. But one apology snowballs into several, and soon he's running around the Mindscape with a low-grade fever and a guilty conscience as he desperately tries to regain some sense of self. Oh, and he's definitely not falling in love with Patton, so don't even bring it up. One Last Note: I wrote this in an ADHD fugue state. It is HEAVILY influenced by Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, but there are also references to poetry and various other works of literature. I also deliberately used symbols, themes, and motifs. Most of them are pretty in your face except for the recurring ouroboros, which is used as a symbol of rebirth. ...Told you it was pretentious.

When you wake up to the promise of your dream world comin' true With one less friend to call on, was it someone that I knew? Away you will go sailing in a race among the ruins If you plan to face tomorrow, do it soon

Janus appeared in the Dark side of the Mindscape, elation swelling in his chest. Even the ringing headache and bitter taste in his mouth couldn't hollow the unfamiliar triumph that warmed him to the core. Caught up in his own thoughts, it took a moment for him to register the sight before him: Remus, upside-down on the couch, his brow furrowed and face an alarming shade of purple.

For a moment, Janus stood stock-still as he tried to get his bearings. He must have been more flustered than he'd realized-- He'd been aiming for his bedroom.

But here he was, staring down at Remus, who was definitely going to burst a blood vessel (or several) if he didn't flip over soon.

"That's not horrifying at all," Janus said, thinking it would be rude to dismiss Remus, especially since he had probably been eavesdropping. He had likely heard everything. Everything. Even the ugly parts.

"Do you remember when Thomas read that post about Nutty Putty Cave?" Remus asked in a strained, strangled voice. "That spelunker who died because he got stuck upside-down?"

"No," Janus said, before realizing his mistake. "Yes." He definitely wanted Remus to remind him of the gory details.

"That's what I thought," Remus said with a wicked grin.

Janus sighed through his nose. Remus, though he thrived on attention, seemed content enough to continue his experiment by himself. On the other hand, if Janus didn't bring up a certain insult he'd levied at Roman, Remus most certainly would, and at a time where it would cause the most upset and turmoil. Better for Janus to deal with it now, even if he would have to fight the tension pulling his muscles taut. He wanted to dance. He wanted to scream.

Hesitation proved to be Janus' downfall, and by the time he'd opened his mouth to broach the subject at hand, Remus had beaten him to the blow. "You're not usually this quiet, Oralboros. Snake got your tongue?"

Janus, again, sighed. Rather than answer, he doffed his hat, set it on the coffee table, and clumsily arranged himself upside-down next to Remus. The change in position immediately made his head throb. He ignored it. "I definitely meant it when I called you 'evil'."

Remus' eyes widened in faux-shock. "You called me evil ?" he shrieked, voice ringing out high and clear. "Me? How dare you. I'm an angel!"

At least Remus was taking it well. "Sarcasm is my thing," Janus said, realizing that he might make it out of this without having to properly apologize.

For some reason, Patton's face flashed into his mind, and a subsequent twinge of guilt made his tongue go sour. Fine. If there was ever a time to start telling uncomfortable truths… "But I am sorry I said that."

"Wow!" Remus laughed. "You must be upset." A red stain began to spill across his left eye. "You don't apologize."

"It’s not like I care about your feelings or anything." Janus would have liked to have drawn himself up to his full height, but it was impossible to do while upside-down. "As much as I'm enjoying watching your blood vessels slowly burst, would you please turn over before you hurt yourself? I've suffered enough psychological trauma for today."

"Oh, fine." Remus kicked his legs and landed neatly on his toes like a gymnast.

Janus, by contrast, got his arms tangled in his capelet and nearly folded himself in half before he found his balance again. "I meant to do that," he said, turning to grab his hat so Remus wouldn't see the blush on his face.

The sudden sensation of blood draining from his head made the room whirl. He steadied himself against Remus' shoulder until it slowed somewhat, but nothing could dampen the horrible ringing in his ears.

"Well," he said, adjusting his shirt. The sudden appearance of his conscience had taken the wind out of his sails more than he cared to admit, and all thoughts of dancing bled out of him along with a good deal of energy. "I'm not going to go scream into my pillows until I tire myself out."

"Being an agent of chaos is hard work," Remus said with a sage nod, "but that doesn't sound very relaxing, Mr Self Care."

"It's a form of meditation, if you think about it," Janus said.

Remus made a face. "You know I don't do that."

"...Meditate?"

"No, think."

"Ah. Well." Janus made only a token attempt to hide his fond smile. "Good night, Remus. Please stay up late and injure yourself."

"Can do, Snakeypoo.”

Janus turned. It was close enough, he might as well walk to his bedroom, especially considering how well his last attempt at appearing in it had gone.

The reason why that had been so difficult became apparent in mere moments. Janus froze in the hall and dropped to his knees at the giddy wave of horror and delight that made him too light-headed to stand.

He knelt in front of the empty stretch of wall where his door had been previously. Heat flooded his face.

"Jay?" The rounded toes of Remus' boots appeared in his line of sight. Janus zeroed in on them, the mud splatters and stains on the soft leather. "You have an aneurysm or what?"

Janus, unable to speak, motioned for Remus to turn around. He couldn't deal with this right now.

"Ohhh," said Remus. "Well. Good luck with that ." He hauled Janus to his feet. "So you're a boner fide good guy now, huh?"

Janus stared over Remus' shoulder at the empty stretch of wall where his door used to be. "That depends entirely on who you ask."

Remus shrugged and rose up on his toes. "You can scream into my pillows instead, if you want."

"As tempting as that is…" Janus trailed off, his eyes still fixed on the wall. It was tempting, despite the constant chaos in Remus' room. But he'd have to face the Light side sooner or later. It wasn't like he could move his room back, not without psychologically damaging Thomas and undoing all the work he'd done. "I'm really looking forward to getting insulted some more."

"Alright," Remus said with a shrug. "Try not to throw me under the bus this time, alright? Unless it's a real bus…" His gaze became dreamy, unfocused. "And it's doing 50 in a school zone and there's a whole pack of screaming kids in the crosswalk--"

"Goodbye, Remus." Janus turned and left.

The barrier between the "dark" and the "light" sides of Thomas' brain had been a joint venture. It would have been there in some form no matter what, but it was Janus and Roman (with Patton's tacit blessing) who had worked to put up something more physical between them.

Janus ducked under the red curtain, trepidation percolating in his stomach, but what he found on the other side was anticlimactic to say the least: It was dead silent on this side of the barrier.

Janus wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He knew by now that the so-called "Lights" had issues working out their interpersonal issues, and this most recent conflict wasn't the kind of thing you just got over. It did follow that they would all go off to lick their wounds for a time.

Hesitantly, toe-to-heel, Janus crept down the hall. It felt for all the world like he was sneaking around a vast hotel, right down to needlessly ornate design on the plush carpeting. That was probably Roman's doing.

Janus focused, trying to call the Mindscape to work for him. He wanted to go to his room.

The Mindscape listened. Janus turned a corner and found a row of doors stretching down yet another brightly-lit corridor. His eye was immediately drawn, not to the brilliant yellow of his own door, but to the figure huddled in front of it: Patton sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, forehead resting on his knees.

"Looking for someone?" Janus asked, slightly louder than necessary.

Patton jerked his head up. "Oh! Janus!" He plastered an unconvincing smile on his face. "You sure pop star-tled me."

Scaring Patton hadn't brought Janus nearly the level of schadenfreude he'd thought it would. He crossed his arms over his chest, extending a third to help Patton up. "Take your time getting to the point.”

"Oh." Patton accepted Janus' proffered hand and got to his feet. Warmth spilled from him, permeating the fabric of Janus' glove and gently heating his palm. "Well, it's just…" He took a deep breath. "I noticed your door and I thought-- Well, I wanted to make you feel welcome!"

A high-pitched tone resonated in Janus' skull. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing at the mounting pressure-pain-exhaustion in his temples. "Aren't you just a saint ." Patton's face fell. Janus fought the urge to swear aloud. He usually had a better handle on himself, and he knew better than to alienate potential allies. "I mean, thank you, Patton. Truly. I appreciate it." Patton had proven himself useful. Janus should at least cultivate that relationship, even if it meant a little discomfort.

"Have you eaten?" Patton asked. "It's a little late, but I could make something if you wanted." He paused. "Maybe we could play cards or something." Another pause. "O-only if you want to, I mean."

Janus let his face remain impassive even as he internally cringed at the idea of staying awake for even another second. It would be so easy to brush Patton off with a few honeyed words and disappear beyond the barrier of his door. But Patton had stood up for him today, or at least he'd tried to. Janus sighed. Quid pro quo. "That sounds like an utter waste of time."

"Are you… I'm sorry, sometimes I can't tell when you're…"

"Yes, Patton. That sounds lovely."

Patton actually hopped in place, an adorable little jig that absolutely didn't send a confusing little shockwave of fondness through Janus' ribcage. "Really?"

"Really," Janus lied.

He followed Patton down the hall into the living room, which opened into the dining room and the kitchen. Janus studied his surroundings, trying to take in as much as his exhausted faculties would allow. Even in the absence of other Sides, the living room felt warm and welcoming. All the lights were on, and they bathed everything in gentle golden light .

"You're awfully quiet," Patton said.

Janus shook himself. "I was just getting my bearings."

"I guess you've never really been over here, huh?" Pattton opened the refrigerator. Was he actually going to cook , instead of just manifesting something? How quaint. "Do you like grilled cheese?"

It had been a long, confusing day. Doublespeak came to Janus as naturally as breathing, but he was obviously running circles around Patton even when he wasn't trying to. "Yes," he said, hoping to telegraph his sincerity by not emoting at all.

It seemed to work. Patton studied him for a moment before turning back to the fridge. "Then that's what I'll make."

Janus took advantage of this temporary distraction to clamber onto one of the barstools. The slick velvet of his capelet tended to disagree with surfaces like wood and vinyl, and he needed a moment to arrange things so he didn't look as unbalanced as he felt.

He watched Patton work in the kitchen, a detached coolness washing out the scene. Quid pro quo, he reminded himself when he felt his facade begin to slip. He owed Patton this.

He certainly didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt, that he had been the one to orchestrate this breakdown. Yes, the Light Sides had loaded the gun, but in the end it was Janus who had pulled the trigger.

He shook his head and thought about playing cards, good Bicycle playing cards with holes punched through them like they'd come from a casino. "What should we play?" he asked, pulling the deck from his breast pocket.

Patton looked up from the stovetop, his eyes flicking to the cards in Janus' hand. "Do you know Kings in the Corners?"

"Not personally, no."

Patton laughed, but there was something cold about it. "It's really simple," he said. "I'll show you how to play and you can tell me if you like it."

It was nearly impossible to cheat at Kings in the Corners. Janus doubted this had been a calculated measure on Patton's part, doubted he had the capacity for that kind of foresight, but he respected it just the same.

They played in funereal silence, staring each other down across the light wood of the dining room table. Janus, ill-inclined to take off his gloves, utilized a napkin to keep from staining them with melted butter from the grilled cheese Patton had made. Neither one of them smiled. Neither one of them spoke.

Janus pulled a card from the deck to indicate the end of his turn and glanced up at Patton. His face was somber, almost sorrowful, and it clashed against the gentle domesticity of the dining room, with its floral table runner and mismatched placemats.

Janus started to laugh.

"What is it?" Patton asked, cheeks darkening. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

Janus swallowed down another peal of laughter and cleared his throat, unable to wholly restrain the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You look like I’m holding you here at gunpoint." It was somewhat ironic, considering Janus was the one who felt like he couldn't leave.

"What?" Patton smiled, but it was more akin to an offering than an expression of joy.

"It’s not really funny. " Janus wasn’t quite sure how to make Patton understand.

Patton sat back with a sigh, placing his cards facedown on the table. "But I guess it is pretty funny, huh? In a really sad way."

Janus almost asked what was sad about it before realizing that Patton probably missed his friends. Instead he said, "Yes" and stifled a yawn behind his free hand.

"I'll make coffee!" Patton leapt to his feet and was off to the kitchen before Janus could so much as blink.

The newfound solitude made it that much harder for Janus to ignore his headache, which had only worsened in the hour or so he'd been playing cards with Patton. Despite the nonchalant facade he'd tried so hard to project, he'd been holding himself tense.

Maybe the night (or morning, at this point) would be easier to tolerate if he had, say, a bit of gold rum.

The corner of a flask dug into Janus' hip. He smiled.

"Just how late are you planning on staying up?" he asked Patton when the latter returned holding two mismatched mugs.

"Oh, I don't know," Patton said. Lied. He set a mug down in front of Janus and then resumed his seat, the cards forgotten by his elbow. "I'm… A little scared of what tomorrow will be like."

Janus eased the flask out of his pocket. "Rum?"

"Oh, um," Patton said, staring at the flask. "I don't know…"

Janus raised an eyebrow, working something out. He landed on it a millisecond later: Patton wanted to be convinced. Easy enough. Janus opened the flask and poured what he hoped was a shot into his own mug. It was black, he noticed, except for the yellow snake that wrapped around it, its tail firmly in its own mouth. Ouroboros. "Surely you don't intend to make me drink alone?"

As Janus had expected, Patton buckled the second he was pushed. "I guess not."

It was funny, Janus mused as he carefully tipped rum into Patton's coffee, how lying was only off-limits when Janus suggested it. Hilarious.

But now wasn't the time for bitterness, now was the time to repay the debt he owed Patton. "Cheers," he said, pocketing the flask once more.

"Cheers."

Janus sipped his coffee. "You put milk in this," he observed.

Patton's smile was surprisingly sly. "I know you want me to think you take it black. Virgil did too, at first. I know you ‘Dark Sides’ have an image you like to uphold."

"And how does Virgil take his coffee now?" Janus asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"With Snickers-flavored creamer."

"Well, I do take my coffee black," Janus lied.

Patton's smile never faltered. "We'll see, kid-- Uh, Janus."

"Patton," Janus said, before he could start thinking about the implications of Patton wanting to call him 'kiddo,' "you are planning on sleeping tonight, aren't you?"

"Maybe eventually," Patton said, suddenly unable to look Janus in the eye. "At some point."

"Tomorrow will come whether or not you sleep. It's definitely better to pull an all-nighter and feel like garbage instead of facing everything with a clear head."

"I know." Patton leaned forward so he could rest his head on his hand.

For a moment, Janus was tempted to mirror him. Sitting up straight was becoming quite the chore. "I know how the others love a calm, rational discussion."

"Oh, I wish." Patton's expression turned wistful.

Janus stifled a yawn behind his hand. He had half-expected the coffee to counteract the depressant effect of the alcohol, but all he had to show for the combination was a racing heart.

"I'll be fine out here if you want to go to bed," Patton said. Without seeming to realize he was doing it, he brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on his thumbnail.

It was a tempting offer. A day ago, Janus would have taken it. After all, it wasn't like he cared about Patton outside of professional courtesy. They weren't friends. But guilt nagged at him and wouldn't let him entertain the idea of abandoning Patton for longer than a second.

"That's a remarkable impression of a window," Janus said, waiting for Patton to look confused before elaborating, "I can see right through you."

"You got me." Patton smiled sadly. "That's something I've always admired about you, Janus."

Now it was Janus' turn to be confused. "What?"

"You're so… clever."

Janus narrowed his eyes. "Please do keep trying to change the subject."

"It's just… I don't want to have to lie there and, and think about today and everything I did wrong. I hurt Thomas. I hurt my friends." Patton's eyes were shiny behind his glasses; the unshed tears sparkled in the light when he locked eyes with Janus. "Aren't you going to think about the same thing?"

Anger flared, perhaps prematurely, in Janus' chest. "About what you did wrong today?"

"About what you did wrong," Patton said timidly.

"I," Janus said icily, "didn't do anything wrong." He stared Patton down across the table, jaw set, daring him to push back. Let him lecture and nag, let him prove that he hadn't changed no matter what he said.

But Patton only nodded, his face lined with misery. "Okay," he softly. "I think you're right, Janus. We should go to bed."

Janus thought about how much faster he could get to bed if the table was cleared, and all the dishes and cards vanished in a blink.

"Um, Janus?" Patton said.

"Yes?"

"I don't regret everything that happened today."

"Oh?"

Patton only nodded and sank out.

Janus made a beeline for his own room; better to find his way there on foot rather than risk appearing in the wrong spot.

Once inside, he looked around to ensure nothing was amiss, eyes roving over the dark wood of his bookshelves and desk, his mirrored closet doors, the leather armchairs across from his bed.

Everything was exactly as Janus had left it. He nodded, satisfied, set his hat on the nightstand, and sprawled out of top of the covers without bothering to further undress.

One hazy thought crawled to the surface of his mind before he fell asleep: At least he wouldn't be one of the regrets haunting Patton tonight.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #janus sanders #moceit #spicywrites soft-shoe shuffle #song featured is: race among the ruins - gordon lightfoot #pics are free to use from unsplash and wikimedia commons

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captainseaweedbrains · 4 years ago

Text

Promises

Katniss made a promise she couldn’t keep.

1930s Everlark in an orphanage. Angst

Trigger: Abuse

Ao3: x

The sun is beating down on my sunburned face when I spot the familiar black Cadillac sitting in the driveway. I stand there for a moment, my basket of gardening tools clutched in my hands, as I stare at the car. I know this car. It’s the same one Prim and I rode in coming to this horrid place.

“Mr. Heavensbee?” I question aloud, walking toward the driveway in a daze. What is he doing here? Is it for business?

“Katniss!” Sister Effie shrills, breaking my trance. My head snaps in the nun’s direction and she points to the rose garden where I’m supposed to be helping with pruning. I sigh, looking back at the car once more, before trudging back to the garden where the rest of my group works diligently. We were promised a special treat if Father Snow approves of our work and it wasn’t often we were rewarded, so we all took our tasks more seriously today.

My knees groan in protest as I sink to the ground to inspect the lower branches for anything dead. Days like today were my least favorite to work in, where the sun is merciless and the heat doesn’t let up for a second. Gardening the extensive gardens at St. Thomas’ makes me feel forty times older than my thirteen-year-old self ought to feel.

I’m cutting away dead branches when a hand caresses my back. I jump, squeaking at the touch, and turn to see a grinning Peeta standing next to me with the basket of branches we’ve been collecting for burning. My eyes squint as I look up at him and smile back.

“Care to help the needy?” he jokes in a creaky ol’ beggar’s voice, shaking the basket with a hunched back. “You, miss,” he acknowledges me, “please help the needy, or rot in Hell for all your sins!”

I cover my mouth to hide my laughter, glancing over to see if Sister Effie had heard, but she sits, unfazed, under an umbrella she’d set up earlier this morning to supervise us, fanning herself, and I hand him my branches.

“That’s quite the punishment,” I play along. “Going to Hell for not giving you my branches.”

“Oh, God watches all, wretched child,” he continues in the voice, and we both duck behind the rose bushes to cover up our laughter before someone sees.

“You’re so lucky you get to go inside,” I whisper once we’ve calmed down. “I’m going to have a burnt head for weeks.”

“Hardly,” Peeta scoffs, popping his head up and deciding to take a break while I continue pruning. “Coin is there each time I go into the shed, inspecting everything I dump into the pile. It’s annoying.”

I nod, imagining the coolly composed woman standing watch as Peeta and the other select boys brought in their baskets of branches and dead leaves, closely inspecting each branch with the same critical cruelty she holds when inspecting our daily chores. “She’s like God, only worse!”

“Don’t ever compare that woman to God, Katniss. It’s insulting.”

I continue pruning the dead roses, their snow white petals wilting as I work while Peeta fans himself with his hand, complaining how it’s not fair that the boys are forced to wear pants in the humid summers while the girls got to wear dresses. I point out how I’m always cold in the winter time, but that doesn’t stop him from complaining over how unfair it is. We get into a tiny spat before Sister Effie starts to voice how our piles are gathering up. “Peeta? Has anyone seen Peeta?”

“Duty calls. I’ll see you in the kitchens,” he hisses before grabbing his basket and running to the next row over.

Carefully, so he won’t see me, I pop my head out and watch him run over to Annie Cresta’s pile. Peeta could complain all he wanted about the boys’ uniform, but I, well I kind of liked them. I liked how snug his shirt was against his broadening shoulders and the way the short sleeves seemed to bring out the small muscles he was gaining from working in the kitchens for so many years. His animated smile that I see in every dream he stars in is on his face, laughing at a joke Annie must have told him, and the small butterflies I’ve been feeling for weeks now flutter again. I know it’s a sin to be looking at him when I’m supposed to be working on my chores, but God won’t mind my looking for another second, right?

A blood curdling scream howls from the house, breaking my focus, and we all pop our heads up in its direction, wondering who Coin’s latest victim is this time. Screaming only worsens your punishment, so I have to give the victim credit for taking a chance, especially if the car does belong to Mr. Heavensbee, and that’s when it hits me.

The last time I heard that scream I was seven years old at the Hawthornes’, trying to help my mother drag a screaming Prim to the car, screaming how she didn’t want to leave Rory, the second-oldest Hawthorne son who was the same age as her. Prim didn’t have many friends at home since we lived with my dad’s parents in an older neighborhood than the Hawthornes, and Rory and Prim had clicked instantaneously. She begged and begged for Mama to leave her there, screaming when she was told no, and I remember pinching my ears closed, trying to block out the piercing sound. Wishing she would stop.

Before registering why she could be screaming, I bolt from the rose garden, ignoring Sister Effie's threats, and run through the back door, trying to target where the screaming is coming from.

What did Prim do to get Coin’s attention? Didn’t I always tell her to blend in? That standing out was a bad thing here?

The screaming sounds like it’s coming from the foyer, an area we are forbidden from entering unless scrubbing the floors and dusting furniture. Prim must have been curious about something and gone in there. I run toward the sound, sweat burning my eyes, and there at the bottom of the stairs, holding onto the door frame for dear life, is my sister. Mr. Heavensbee is pulling at her to follow him, insisting they’re going to be late for their train. Prim continues to scream, telling him she doesn’t want to leave.

“I want to stay! Please let me stay!”

“Now, now,” Mr. Heavensbee consoles impatiently, “Child, we’re going to be late, and your new family is waiting. Remember how much you liked them?”

Her screaming continues and I have to shout over it, hoping she hears me.

“Prim?” my voice cracks. “Prim!” I race down the stairs, almost tripping on my own feet. Did he say she’s leaving? A new family? But what about me; didn’t he promise we’d stay together?

She looks up, her eyes puffy with tears, and yanks free of Mr. Heavensbee, running into my open arms. I run my hand down her sweaty hair, shh-ing and telling her everything is going to be alright.

“I don’t want to leave,” she cries into my dress, clinging onto me so tightly I fear she may break a rib.

“Who says anything about leaving?” Looking up at the large man, I ask what’s the meaning of this.

He opens his mouth, stuttering out a response, when a cold voice sharply replies: “That is not how a child speaks to an adult.”

My arms stiffen around Prim’s body as I look over my shoulder at Madame Coin standing on the bottom step, her bony hand clutching a small bag I recognize as Prim’s belongings.

No... No! She can’t!

“You’re sending Prim away?” I pray this isn’t true, that God is playing a cruel prank on me.

“Primrose has the opportunity for a better life,” Coin sniffs.

“She’s my sister!” I turn to Mr. Heavensbee. “You promised we’d stay together! You promised!” Tears of betrayal start to fall as I cling to my little sister. “You told me you’d make sure we’d stay together!”

He nervously traced the bushy mustache and glanced at his watch again. “Things change,” he tells me. “You can never tell in this profession.”

“But you promised!”

A sharp tug of my braids breaks my grip on Prim; Coin’s arm holding me in her clutches as Heavensbee captures Prim. I fight with all my might, knowing the consequences of acting out like this will be severe, but he promised! I promised! We would stay together after Mama and Papa passed.

“It’s been a pleasure having you under God’s house,” Madame Coin states with false sincerity. “May you find grace under your new roof, Primrose Williamson.”

I can barely see I’m crying so hard as the realization that my sister is leaving forever hits me. I’ll probably never see her again. “Prim! Prim!” I break out of the witch’s grasp and run outside to the car, begging Mr. Heavensbee to take me, too. “I’ll cook, clean,” I beg. “I’ll do anything to stay with Prim, Mr. Heavensbee. Just—please, let me go with you.”

He peels my hands off his suit, pushing me into the grass, and gets into his car. I watch in a teary blur as my sweet little sister drives farther and farther away until finally, the car is completely out of sight. My heart cracks to pieces. My body numb. The world spins and breaks all at once.

My eyes break away from the driveway and target the group of children peeping out by the side of the house, even a few curious nuns joining them. I try to compose myself, to brace myself for the inevitable punishment that is waiting for me inside, but all I can do is gasp for air, curling my arms around my legs. My little Prim is gone. She’s going to a new family. Without me. I truly am alone now.

“What do you think you children are doing?” Madame Coin snaps at the audience, shooing them with her cane. “Be gone and finish your chores, or God will punish you for meddling in others' business!”

I see Peeta in the crowd, his recent growth spurt making him a few inches taller than the other children, and my stomach sinks so low I’m sure the Devil can see it. This is my punishment for looking at a boy. Madame Coin, and even Father Snow, always insisted that we do not look. It is a sin to look when we were put on this earth to serve. I looked and lost my sister. I’m sure He’s laughing from above at my foolishness.

My eyes avert to my too small shoes, hoping everyone would just leave me be so that I can be punished and sent back to work.

“That was quite a scene you exhibited, child.” I know I should look up—children must look up to their superiors—but the thought of that woman’s cruel smirk at the sight of my tears made my blood boil.

“I apologize, Madame,” I hiccup, running my hand across my snotty nose. “She’s my sister.”

“Was,” Coin corrects and I do look up now, rapidly blinking as my eyes adjust to the bright sun hitting her light blonde hair. “She’s no relation to you now and I suggest you remember that. You lost all relations the moment your parents dropped dead.”

She was trying to get to me, wanting me to say something that would cause a bigger punishment than I could ever imagine, and I should keep my mouth shut and falsely accept her statement, but a little voice inside my head reminds me that lying is worse than a beating.

“Pardon me, Madame Coin, but aren’t we all God’s children? Doesn’t that mean we’re all related?” I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth. A lie would have been better.

“You insolent little girl!” she growls, reeling back her cane. I instinctually cover my face, praying to God for how sorry I am and for Him to please make the beating bearable. I don’t want to limp like Peeta, or flinch at every sound like Clove Anderson.

Please, I beg. Make it fast.

The wooden cane never strikes and I peek out from under my arm in surprise and see Coin standing there, a calculated look written on her face.

“Stand,” she commands and I oblige, too curious and confused at what was happening. “I should give you thirty lashes for that scene alone,” and the ball in my throat gets stuck at that. I’ve never received thirty lashes before. “But I’m going to be merciful today. Follow me.”

We walk past the gardens, my chin high in the air as heads cautiously pop up to watch us pass. I don’t know where we’re going, but soon we are close to the woods, about a mile I’d guess from the house. Questions fill my head as I wonder if she’s actually going to kill me out here in the wild, where no one can hear me scream. It’s numbing knowing I wouldn’t put up much of a fight if she did decide to kill me. There’s no point trying, now.

Coin stops in front of a small hut that’s no bigger than our gardening shed and pulls out a ring of keys. She unlocks the door and steps to the side, motioning for me to step in. I peer inside, cringing at the smell, and I know this is my punishment for acting out in front of Mr. Heavensbee and for talking back when I wasn’t supposed to. She’s going to lock me in here.

“Well get in!” And she grabs my collar, shoving me into the dank, dark room. From the smell alone I can tell no one’s been in here for years and I feel around for anything, the tiny hole near the floor supplying no light. The room is empty. “You will spend 40 hours in here. One hour for every lashing you would have received had I not been in such a good mood. You will repent to the only person out here: God. And when I return, I expect you to recite an explanation on your sins and what you have learned from your time out here. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Madame Coin.”

She closes and locks the door and I am shrouded in darkness. Alone, I can finally cry without worrying about eyes watching, and I cry until God takes mercy on me and I fall asleep.

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, or how late it is, but a tiny knock on the door alerts me awake.“Who is it?” I demand. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” Peeta hisses, knocking again.

I stand up and feel my way to the door. “Peeta? What are you doing here? Did you sneak out?” I accuse, wondering why he always put himself into harm’s way for me.

“What? No! No, Katniss.” I hear him sigh and I lean my head against the wooden door, imagining the way his chest rises, his hands in his hair because he’s agitated. “I brought you some bread and water.” A tray slides through the tiny hole by the ground and I stumble to it, my stomach growling at the knowledge of food. It’s hard to keep myself at bay while eating the single slice of bread, but I manage and take a tiny sip of water, savoring the refreshment I’ve been denied all day.

“Does she know you’re out here?” I ask at last, hoping he won’t get into trouble because of me again.

“She told Annie to bring it, but she’s afraid of the dark and I offered to take the tray instead.”

“Does Coin know you’re out here, Peeta?” I clarify.

He doesn’t say anything for the longest time and I know his answer before he even says it. “She knows you’re being fed, but no, she doesn’t know that I’m the one who’s bringing it to you.”

I sigh and roll onto my back, looking up at darkness. “God’s punishing me.”

“What? No! You can’t believe that, Katniss. Madame Coin is insane. Possessed, I’m sure.”

“I sinned, Peeta, and He took my sister away,” I simply tell him, my voice emotionless. I must have cried longer than I thought. “Prim’s gone because of me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe in all that.” His hand finds my arm through the hole and I scoot up so that our hands are holding onto each other. I wonder if this is another sin we’re creating, but holding hands doesn’t seem terrible. I’m sure Jesus held his best friend’s hand and Peeta is the only person I can depend on in this place now.

“I don’t know what to believe.” And that’s all I say until he tells me he has to get back before they lock the doors, squeezing my hand in parting.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he promises, but I’m beginning to lose hope in promises.

#Everlark #Everlark fanfiction #The Hunger Games #The Hunger Games fanfiction #Everlark fanfic #Katniss Everdeen #Peeta Mellark #Primrose Everdeen #Angst #I wrote this back in 2013 #So hopefully it still works lol #Enjoy and let me know what you think!#my writing

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ohdearhiddles · 4 years ago

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SUMMARY: Thirteen years post-breakup and Tom still takes your breath away. You were once young and childish, and you had wanted more than he should have given. Years later, just the sight of him causes your heart to flutter, but what about him?

TITLE: To Fall in Love Again

WORD COUNT: 2837

AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: Kinda angsty I guess? I tried to be vague with the ages, but it was kind of hard since the idea of the story was based off of time gap, so my apologies! There will most likely be a second part to this just because I genuinely didn’t think that the next part belonged in the same part as this so yeah :) (AO3 Link)

He was beautiful.

Some people truly aged with grace, and despite Thomas William Hiddleston being 14 years older than when you had met him that fateful afternoon, he had certainly been one of the lucky ones. His curly locks were much longer now and dyed and a gorgeous black, and his smile - oh god, his smile - was still as dazzling and absolutely breathtaking as it had been many years ago.

Of course, though, the Tom standing before you was not the same one you had known.

This Tom had become so very loved by those around him; a true gentleman among men. He was even more humble and lovely as when you had met him from all that you could tell, and for a moment you wondered if he would even recognize you. You were but an average woman among the many beautiful women that graced his presence, and suddenly, you found yourself recalling the day that you had expressed that you felt as though you would hold him back.

Back then, his career and age intimidated you greatly. So much so that you had cut him out of your life like the immature young adult you had been - a regretful mistake that you came to terms with a long while afterward.

Now, you were a dapper, older woman, calm and sophisticated as you were meant to be. The childish side of you had long been hidden away and you when you weren’t reminded of how you once were, you didn’t mind the absence of such childish bliss. You didn’t believe you had aged as well as Tom did; in fact, you were certain that you looked even closer to his age than you had before. You could definitely have passed for a woman in her late thirties.

Fans crowded around the lovely man you had once loved more than life itself, and you felt a sharp throb in your chest. You stood farther back, holding a cup of coffee that had chilled significantly since you had gotten it, but you weren’t about to throw it away just yet. It gave you something to do with your hands at least.

His smile was radiant, and you wondered what on earth he was doing in the grand old city of New York. Women and men alike flocked like birds around the newest shiny object they had found. It was then that you noticed the small booklets in their hands. Playbills. Hurriedly, you looked around the area for signs adorning the exterior of theaters for any indication on why he was there.

Spotting a poster on a nearby wall, your jaw dropped. Broadway.

A small proud, smile played at your lips as you approached the sign. Tom loved acting, you knew that very well, and you had always tried to be as supportive as can be. But back then, you were still a child - an irritable, greedy child who had no business being with such a loving and considerate man that had his eyes set on the stars.

You recalled the day you looked yourself in the mirror, suddenly hating the type of lover you had become in spite of all Tom had given you. When he gave you his time, you had begged for more, and when he gave you his heart, you asked for his soul. Nothing had been good enough for you until the day you decided that enough was enough. Love was not about taking from him, borrowing his time and spending his affections like spare change. It was about acceptance and maintaining what you had.

If only you had known that before everything turned sour.

Your heart fluttered at the reminder of the days in which your relationship was flourishing, growing like the most beautiful flower among weeds. Although you and Tom had only dated for about a year, when it was good, it was good. He had never failed to make you laugh or make you feel loved, and that was exactly the problem. However, even flowers die when the seasons change and the air grows cold. That’s exactly what had happened. Your relationship became a weed, poisoned by all that surrounded it and you had believed it was all your fault.

One crucial moment had destroyed it all. The day you had said that you wanted more, more everything, and Tom had gladly agreed to give it to you. Every second after that moment was still vivid in your mind. The feeling of pure horror that overtook you as you watched a man say that he valued you more than his career, more than anything, was something you would never forget. Who were you to ask him to do that?

Nobody, was what you had decided. You were nobody. You had to accept it.

The relationship spiraled from there. The kisses became chaste and the sex became stale - passion was mistakenly shoved away. Tom’s smiles slowly withered in time, and your soul slowly blackened, becoming a void that sucked the life from him.

It took 46 days for things to end, and it took 598 days for you to pick up all the pieces of your shattered being after it all happened. And if you were honest, no one was ever enough even after him. Even now, you had tried to be exactly what was asked of you, asking for nothing in return because of a lingering fear that you would ask for far too much.

For years, you watched Tom become the actor and man he had always dreamed of becoming. He became a face that so many could recognize, and you were now certain that if you were to approach him, you would look like nothing more than a woman seeking attention that did not belong to you.

You dragged your eyes away from the poster, looking over at the crowd of people. The thought to approach was more than just appealing. But it didn’t feel right to approach him despite it all. You were someone from his distant past; you had no claim on him, no reason to make him reminisce something you had neglected. The again, you were still very much the same as you once had been deep inside, and today you wanted to allow her to take hold.

Hesitantly making your way to the crowd, you didn’t push or shove. You hovered in the background, looking on as a fans asked him signatures and pictures. And then you heard it - the ringing laughter that melted every bit of ice that had formed around your heart. You shut your eyes briefly, cherishing the sound that you didn’t dare to admit you missed. 13 years after the break up, and he still made you feel like a teenager.

When you opened your eyes, he was standing even closer. Actually, it looked as though he was trying to go on his merry way, but with so many people, you supposed that it was probably much more difficult to leave than it seemed. Especially for him if he was any bitt as apologetic and kind as he was before.

The crowd began to disperse slowly but surely, but you lingered You stayed towards the back, keeping a distance between yourself and the man that still made your heart race. You were hoping to remain as inconspicuous as possible, but it was becoming increasingly worrisome as he slowly got closer.

People began to gather around you, indicating his approach, but you stayed where you were. It would seem terribly awkward to walk away now, so you planted your feet in the ground and took root. Tom stood approximately ten feet away, and you began to feel sick. This was a bad idea, you thought to yourself.

An unforgiving shove distracted you from your unease as your lukewarm coffee fell to the ground, splashing against the pavement. A few people turned their heads, questioning you on if you were alright, but you couldn’t find a way to respond. A familiar face stood before you, a worried look in his eyes and you stared back at him, not knowing how to make any coherent sentences.

“Are you alright?” He inquired, and you froze. You were sure he didn’t recognize you, and a feeling of relief washed over you, but it was quickly replaced with the familiar sting in your chest. His voice was like velvet, or perhaps it resembled a melodic tune that you wanted to sing constantly. You weighed your options on how to respond, but nothing came to mind.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, ignoring the stares of those around you.

Oh, were you sorry. It wasn’t coffee that you were apologizing for, or the tiniest of splashes that made it’s way onto Tom’s pants. At that second, you were 13 years younger standing in front of a younger version of Tom, apologizing like you should have instead of running away. You were apologizing for the incessant rambling, the late phone calls that kept him up far longer than it should have, the greed you had held for his time, and the manipulation of his love.

Those two words held more meaning than anything you had ever said before, and you so desperately wanted to explain it all. You wanted to tell him that now, standing before him, you could feel yourself falling in love all over again. You wanted to tell him that you watched every movie, series, play, and poetry reading he had done. The only one you seemed to have not been aware of was his current escapade. You wanted to tell him that if you could do it all again, you would have been better. You should have been better.

Tom’s face was blank as he stared at you. You looked around you, a blush rising to your cheeks as everyone seemed to wait for your interaction to end. So, you took the first step. You lifted your hand, holding it out for him to shake. He reciprocated the action, eyes still trained intently on your face and the tears welling up in your eyes, but you hoped that it would be mistaken as tears of joy. A shaky laugh escaped your lips as you shook hands.

“It was nice meeting you,” you said, smiling up at the beautiful man as your heart plummeted to the ground. Everything was starting to feel hazy, and maybe that’s why it felt as though his grip had tightened and his touch had lingered significantly longer than it should have. Perhaps that’s why, as you turned to leave, you could have sworn that your name had slipped past his lips like a silent promise.

You weaved your way through the crowd, eyes trained on the ground as you began to regret the interaction. Your pulse was erratic as you walked away, hoping that the rest of the day would drown out this unforeseen meeting that you had voluntarily made worse for yourself. As you exited the crowd, the voices of everyone around you seemed to hush. All except one.

Tom’s voice bounced off of invisible barriers, an echo that made its way to you. It stopped you in your tracks as he called your name over and over again until a hand was grasped around your wrist. Turning quickly, you see the crowd had not followed him. They all stood in their spot, stares all directed at you.

He repeated your name once more, and you blinked in disbelief.

“Yes?” You all but squeaked. It must have been a funny sight - a woman of your age squeaking a reply like a child.

“It is you, isn’t it?” He repeated.

“It’s me,” you spoke, eyes wandering to where his fingers touched your arm.

His eyebrows furrowed as he scanned you up and down. It wasn’t an intrusive look, but it still made you uncomfortable after all these years of thinking you would never see him again. Then, out of nowhere, a wonderful thing happened. Tom pulled your arm, wrapping his own around your waist as if you had never done him wrong. He inhaled deeply before withdrawing from the embrace, a smile that you had dreamed about far too many times gracing his features.

“I didn’t recognize you at first, I apologize,” he breathed, hands still on your shoulders. “I wasn’t,” he paused. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you.”

“That makes two of us,” you mumbled under your breath, and a hearty laugh resonated within him.

“How are you?” He asked, voice filled with sincerity.

For once, you didn’t know what to say to that. How were you? You didn’t think about it all too much, and when you did, you chose not to dwell on it as much as you probably should have. The last thing on your mind was to worry about your own sanity and wellbeing.

“I’m doing good,” you said, knowing that the answer was bland and as generic as possible.

Tom seemed to not truly believe the statement, and you figured that you wouldn’t believe it either if your crazy ex started crying and pretended not to know you after over a decade of seeing one another. “How about you?”

“I’m doing well,” he replied, his smile faltering before he sighed. Liar. “Actually, if I’m being honest with you, I’m quite tired lately.”

You nodded, not knowing what to say in response as Tom’s hands dropped to his sides. The silence dragged out and you found yourself beginning to turn to leave.

“Well, it was nice seeing you,” you mumbled.

“Wait,” Tom spoke, reaching out again before pulling his hand back. “Wait.”

The next few seconds were a blur as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing away before holding it out for you to take. You eyed it suspiciously before taking it from his hands. “I heard you got a new number back then, but if you don’t mind,” you suppressed a gasp as you watched a small rosy tint appear on his cheeks. “I’d like to catch up sometime soon.”

It was then that you smiled, a true genuine smile, “I’d really like that.” So, you looked at the screen to type away. What you saw, though, was not what you had expected. An old picture from back when the two of you were together sat in the contact photo, and your name and old number were still typed out in their designated spots.

When you handed the phone back to the gentleman, you pulled your own phone out of your pocket and held it out for him to take. “Yours too.”

You watched in admiration as his long, nimble fingers tapped against the screen, typing his information into your contacts. After handing it back, he smiled, holding his arms out again as if he were asking for another hug. Not seeing the harm, you allowed yourself to be engulfed by his body, and right before you pulled away, Tom whispered: “I’ve missed you more than you know.”

So, when the two of you went your separate ways, you couldn’t help the heat that had risen to your face. You truly felt a decade younger as you walked away, not sure how to take that sentence. What had he missed? Did he miss you the way you missed him?

“I missed you, too,” you whispered to no one in particular, glancing back to see Tom’s eyes on your retreating form. And in that moment you wondered if it would be possible to fall in love again, and for him to fall in love with you.

After closing the door to your home, you felt a soft vibration in your pocket, and you felt as though a small sliver of hope had shone through the endless night you had grown accustomed to as you read it. It was a text that reminded you that, at one point, Tom had understood you better than you understood yourself. Even now, he still somehow understood you as if he could read your mind.

I forgot to tell you, but don’t apologize. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

What? You typed up the response before hitting send. Within seconds, the three dots in a bubble appeared on the screen, showing that he was already typing his answer.

You said sorry when you saw me. Am I wrong?

I did.

Don’t apologize.

A second text chimed in less than a second later.

Unless you would like to make it up to me.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you read the text.

How so? You asked, nothing in particular crossing your mind when you thought about it.

Go to dinner with me tomorrow. Let’s make up for some lost time.

That was probably the last thing you had ever expected. These types of things were reserved for movies and books that you would never be a part of. But despite the thought that you were getting played, you did not have the heart to turn him down. Who were you to tell him no?

Okay.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston imagines #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston one shot #one shot #fanfic #reader insert #chance meeting #kinda angsty

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emmy-writes-sometimes · 4 years ago

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Fake AF

You and Tom star in a movie together, and unfortunately for you that means people think you’re together. But what if there’s really something there?

“Your hand is sweaty!” You exclaimed, a little grossed out, snatching your hand away from Tom’s. He just chuckled, wiping his palm on his jeans.

“I did that on purpose,” he laughed, rolling his eyes at you as you walked into the hotel lobby. Thankfully, reporters and fans weren’t trying to get in. The hotel you were staying at was a lot more secure than most of them and actually had security on the outside. Tom pressed the elevator button and you were heading back to your suite after a long, thirteen hour day of press and interviews. You and Tom were doing this thing, at the request of your agents, where you were pretending to date because it looked good for the movie, and then deny every chance you got so that people would keep waiting and watching.

And it wasn’t like you and Tom weren’t friends, because you were. Good friends. Really good friends. It was the third time you’d worked together over the years, and your families were friends, too. In fact, your parents believed you were dating. All of your siblings made fun of the two of you, always trying to convince you that you actually did like each other. The entire world thought you were dating, but you knew that Tom would literally never hold your hand even if you paid him to. The two of you fought like siblings, even if you pretended to be lovers. And then the movie PR people had insisted that you get a suite together, even if you wouldn’t share a room, to keep up appearances.

“Just remember you were the one who took it,” you said to him. He grinned and raced you to the bathroom, shutting himself in so you couldn’t get in. “Tom! You said I could have the first shower!”

“Well, I lied!” You groaned and crossed your arms, stomping away. Tom came out a few minutes later, after you’d changed clothes and were lounging on the couch, eating out of a bag of chips that one of the interviewers gad given you that afternoon.

“Want some?” You asked, offering the freshly showered Tom a chip. He shook his head. “Your loss.”

“Let’s see what the agents are saying, said they sent us an email for tomorrow.” Tom sat down beside you, a little closer than he usually would unless you were in public, and took his laptop from the coffee table. He opened his email account and started scrolling through the same email that you had gotten a few minutes ago. It looked like you were doing another set of lengthy interviews tomorrow at the studio’s headquarters downtown, but then you were doing a what’s in the box, a small break to make an appearance at a restaurant, and then a late night talk show before being released in time for dinner.

“So what’s the plan for the show?” You asked him, looking up and down at him. He’d spent most nights at whatever hotel you were at’s gym and was getting more fit than you’d seen him in years – his abs were showing through his tight, slightly wet white t-shirt. He was gorgeous, you couldn’t lie, and you wouldn’t. When people asked what you thought, you always said the truth. You never lied, and you hoped he wouldn’t lie about you either. But you were both not dating, and that you never lied about. It was just that Tom liked to play around – he called you stupid pet names in public, he would hold your hand, he would sleep on your shoulder when you were waiting for planes where people could take pictures of you, and you lived in the same house when you were both in London so it already looked like you lived together. Part of you wanted to think that it wasn’t PR, that maybe he did like you, but you weren’t going to do anything about it.

“What do you mean?”

“Deny, deny, deny?” It took him a second but he understood, nodding.

“I dunno. Do you think they’ll ask?”

“They always ask.”

“Well, we said until after press and the premiere, so I guess we deny. But I’ll still try to find a way to make it look otherwise.”

“Like what?”

“Why do I have to have all the answers? It’ll come to me like it always does.” You elbowed him.

“I’m kidding.”

“We’ll figure it out.” You stood up, wrapping the chips up and clipping the bag back, and then walked into your room. “Good night, I guess.”

“Yeah, g’night, Tommy.” He smiled to himself as he watched you walk into your bedroom wearing one of his old t-shirts that you’d found in the laundry room and refused to give back. You didn’t even know it was his. He would never admit it, but he liked how it looked on you, even if he teased you because it was twice your size and the shoulders were far too big. You tried to forget about it, turning on some TV while you were trying to fall asleep. Eventually you did and Tom shut your door, then went to his own room.

The next morning you ordered breakfast in, as usual, and fought over the last cup of syrup for your pancakes. Tom wasn’t any different than usual, giving you absolutely no indication that he was thinking about anything because you usually just assumed he wasn’t. Everyone was outside again, and Tom just herded you to the car and walked behind you.

The first couple of interviews were fine – nobody asked you about your relationship and you didn’t say anything about it. The two of you went to lunch, where the only seats were right beside each other, and you listened to your agents talk to you both about how important it was that you keep pretending. You just rolled your eyes at each other when they weren’t looking, which made Tom laugh, and the two of you snuck back to the set of your next interview as soon as you could.

“But what if it’s a gross animal or something? Or a banana? Tommy, I hate bananas,” you said, vaguely aware that the cameras were rolling. Tom was standing in front of you, looking inside of what was in the box you were supposed to be reaching your hands into, and he was laughing. You had no idea what it was because they’d made you leave the room to put the box down.

“It’s not either one of those things, I promise,” he said with a giggle.

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not lying. Just, just touch it, darling, everything will be fine.” You could feel your face heating up as you started to put your hands near the box. You didn’t know why the nickname was suddenly getting you. He called everyone darling, everybody knew that. But why was it making you have a fucking hot flash? You touched whatever it was inside, your eyebrows raising, and you stood back for a second.

“Is it fabric?”

“What counts as fabric?” Tom asked you.

“Oh, my God, Tom, what is it?” He giggled again and took your arm, pulling you to the other side of the box to look at it. It was just a shirt that had been folded up in a ball. “Oh.”

“See! I told you it was fine.” You jerked your arm away from him and pushed him toward the back of the box for his round. You did three more rounds, allowing the producers to figure out what they liked best, and then you headed back to the hotel to get ready for the talk show.

On the way there, you were an idiot and opened your phone. You and Tom were both trending on twitter for pictures of the two of you sitting together at lunch. People were mostly just saying you were cute together, but there were a couple of threads saying that you’d been together far longer than people thought. They really thought you two had been together since before the movie even started just because you’d been to an event at the same time? Okay, you thought. Whatever.

“Aww, is someone nervous?” Tom asked you as he watched you scrolling through your phone, right before you were supposed to go inside. “Are you really that nervous?”

“Yes!” You answered, messing up the hair he’d worked for the past half an hour on in the bathroom. “What if something happens?”

“You’re an actor. I’m an actor. We’re fantastic at bullshitting. It’s literally in our job descriptions.” You sighed. “I promise, if things start going haywire, I’ll change the subject.”

“Fine.” The car pulled up to the studio entrance and the two of you were brought inside. You met with the host, changed into the clothes you’d picked out, and then they were giving the two of you microphones backstage.

“Everything will be fine,” Tom insisted as he watched you shake your leg. They were setting up cameras closer to the couch and your arms were crossed, looking out at the audience, and you were only getting more and more nervous as time went on. Tom did his best to break you out of your shell, and eventually you were roped into playing some truth or dare game.

“Alright, Thomas,” the host said to Tom with a grin on his face. “Truth.” Tom grinned.

“Oh, no,” he said, “what do you have on me?”

“Alright. What’s your favorite thing about Y/n, and your least favorite thing about Y/n?” Tom looked at you, grinning.

“In the spirit of the game, I’m starting with my least favorite first,” he said, looking right at you. The heat rose to your face again and you let your hair fall in front of your face, trying not to let anyone see. Hopefully the cameras wouldn’t be able to see your face. “She does this thing. She shakes her leg when she gets nervous, and I’ll put my hand down or I’ll push her or something just to make her stop and she doesn’t even notice it and she’ll act like she’s not even doing it. It’s the worst.”

“I do not!” You defended.

“You’re literally doing it now!” There was a laugh track added, but the laughing you were doing wasn’t fake. You couldn’t help it. That was really what he hated the most about you?

“And then what you like the most?” You crossed your arms, waiting for Tom. He looked like he was having a difficult time so you elbowed him.

“Definitely not that,” he said, elbowing you back. “She’s just a really good person, all around. But she’s really good at cheering me up. Whatever I’m feeling, she’s always good at pulling me out of it and getting me focused on what matters again.” The crowd gave you an aww and you couldn’t help but look at him and smile. You thought you were the absolute worst at making him feel better, but really it was the opposite. So what else was he completely and totally lying about?

The rest of the show went fine. That was the last question asked about the two of you, except that if you were together, which you denied again, because you weren’t. You weren’t together, no matter how good at it the two of you seemed to be. But it made you wonder; what if you were supposed to be? What if you really could be endgame, like so many people had said? What if…

You sighed and took your earrings out just as Tom walked back into the suite, holding the Chinese food he’d gotten from the place a block down. You finished taking your makeup off before walking back out in the same shirt you were wearing the night before.

“Did you get extra soy sauce?” You asked. He held up a set of five or six packets, sliding them over to where you sat. He turned on the TV and the two of you started watching some terrible romantic comedy, laughing as it went on. Your legs extended into his lap as you ate and you didn’t even think about it. You finally put the food down and Tom went to go put everything in the fridge.

“I was so fucking starving,” Tom said as he walked back over to you. He sat beside you, a little closer this time. You tried not to look at him any differently than you had before, but it was hard. It was hard when he had a smile on his face and his hair was curly from his shower and he was smiling that stupid smile.

“Yeah,” you responded, a little too late for comfort, and he turned to you.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Tom?”

“Hm?” He took a sip of the soda he’d gotten, turning his eyes to you.

“Do you like me?”

“Of course I like you, you’re my best friend. Do you feel okay?” He extended a hand to feel your forehead, but you put your own hand out to stop it.

“I mean… What if our agents were right? What if there’s something here and we’re just too stupid to see it?” He seemed to think about it for a second, shrugging.

“Do you think there is?”

“I don’t know,” you replied. “It’s just so confusing.” He shrugged.

“Then let’s make it not confusing.”

“What?” Now you were completely and totally confused, and you cocked your head. He sighed, moving closer to you, and to your surprise, he kissed you. You were too stunned to do anything, absolutely anything, except shut your eyes. It felt weird, but good. But weird. Odd. Like it was something you shouldn’t be doing.

“Okay, that was…” He said as soon as he pulled away from you. He gave you a little smile, but that turned into a laugh. And then you were laughing.

“Weird?” You asked. He nodded.

“Yeah, that was a little weird,” he agreed.

“We should’ve started with a date. Like, a real date.”

“Yeah. Let’s start with that.” With slightly disgusted faces, you went back to what you were watching, and tried to forget about it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so gross in the future, but right now… ew.

A/N: I’m sorry this is so short and slightly meandering! This may get a re-write eventually, but I loved writing this still!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff

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allforhader · 4 years ago

Text

Forever Yours

Bill Hader x (F) Reader

Requested by: @designersophisticate

Warnings: Langauge

[Y/M/N - middle name]

Y/N stood on a little platform in front of the mirror admiring herself in her wedding dress. She loved the long sleeve with the lace a-line dress. Her smile hasn’t left her face since she started getting ready for her and Bill’s big day. Y/N stepped down from the platform once she heard the door open, expecting her mother but no one came in.

“Yes?”

“Sorry! I just didn’t want to see you before yknow”

This man...

Y/N smiles walking over and closing the door a bit more so Bill doesn’t sneak in a look.

“Did you need something, love?”

“We didn’t see each other this morning because your mother already kidnapped you before I say good morning.” Bill smiles looking at the crack of the door. “I wanted to hear your voice”

“Well aren’t you cute” Y/N smiles looking down at his shadow before holding her hand out.

Bill smiles taking her hand into his enjoying the small moment, minutes before the ceremony.

“I love you Mr. William Thomas Hader Junior”

“I love you so much more soon to be Mrs. William Thomas Hader Junior” Bill couldn’t stop smiling feeling her squeeze his hand.

“What are you doing!”

Bill turns seeing his future mother in law along with his own mother.

“You’re not supposed to see the bride yet!”

“Why are you even by her door!”

Y/N laughs letting go of Bill’s hand as he quickly makes his way out of there before facing the wrath of the mothers. His mother scoffs when they finally arrive to Y/N’s room.

“That boy was about to spoil the moment”

“Oh but we know damn well that Y/N wouldn’t let that happen”

“You know me well mom” Y/N opens the door once she knew Bill was completely gone.

“Oh my god”

“Look at her!”

“Absolutely stunning”

“You two better come in before the love of my life tries to sneak a peek” Y/N laughs letting them in to help her with the finishing touches.

The time came as Y/N stood in front of the entrance feeling her heart race. She was excited. Nervous. But she continued to smile and she couldn’t wait any longer.

“Are you ready pumpkin?” Y/N’s dad smiles admiring his little girl. Can’t believe today is her big day. Of course the man is already crying. “He’s a very lucky man”

“I know dad” Y/N smiles hugging her dad before hearing the music start to play.

No other love can warm my heart

Bill looks up when the guests stood to their feet. He instantly started tearing up at the sight of Y/N in her wedding dress. The closer she got the more he started to cry.

Now that I've known the comfort of your arms

“Oh baby”

“Sorry..” Bill laughs wiping away his tears as Y/N was handed off by her father. “You’re just so gorgeous. God.” He smiles as she hands her bouquet to her maid of honor before taking his face into her hands.

No other love.

“I love you so much” Y/N smiles feeling the tears start to form for herself. Bill instantly wraps his arms around her waist bringing her close.

“I love you so much more”

Oh the sweet contentment that I find with you

“Now for the vows, Bill?”

“Well. Can I just start by saying that...you are the most beautiful woman on this planet and you’ve made me the luckiest man alive by saying yes that night I asked you to marry me. You are the best thing to wake up in the morning...the sun shining in and waking up to that gorgeous smile on your face. Always knowing the right words to tell a person in need of anything, putting everyone’s needs before yours, taking in everything instead of just the vague picture, everything you do amazes me. I love you. I love you to the moon and back. I’ll love you forever and no one will ever stop me from reminding you every day of how beautiful, talented, kind hearted, and god there’s a million amazing things that describe the stunning woman in front of me that I’ll remind you of every single one. I’ll hold you like my life depends on it...because it does. I never want to let go of you because you’re my universe. You’re my everything...”

every time

Every time.

Y/N was balling at that point as Bill carefully wipes away her tears trying to avoid smudging her make up, even though she doesn’t need it.

“Now your vows Y/N”

No other lips could want you more

“God...where do I start? When we met I was just a PA on The Skeleton Twins...no one really talked to me unless they wanted something. But then you did. You talked to me like there was nothing to worry about and that just made me feel great. Special. You were my best friend for the longest time and I saw you grow into this incredible actor, then director, that it really just made me realize how much I love you. You’re a very caring, tender hearted man that...who wouldn’t fall in love you with at first sight? You make life worth living. You supported me when I wanted to become a writer, held me on my off days, and made sure I was okay even when I was perfectly fine. I love coming home to the man I love and dedicate my whole life to. You’re the light of my life Bill Hader and I don’t want anything or anyone to change that”

The two haven’t stopped crying since hearing each other’s vows. Bill couldn’t wait as he kisses his bride making the few guests including Y/N to laugh a bit. She gently pushes him away.

“You have to say I do before you do such an act” Y/N smiles feeling Bill bring her close happily waiting.

“Do you Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N take William Thomas Hader Jr. to be your husband?”

“I do”

“And do you William Thomas Hader Jr. do you take Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N to be your wife?”

“God of course I do”

For I was born to glory in your kiss.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The ordain smiles. “You May now kiss the bride”

Instantly, Bill presses his lips against Y/N’s as she snakes her arms around his neck bringing him closer to her. The guests couldn’t stop cheering for the two as they are in their own little world for a moment.

Forever yours

I was blessed with love to love you

Bill hasn’t let go of Y/N’s hand since the ceremony. He kept her close every chance he got and whenever she let go to talk to a few, he would simply watch from afar. He loves her. Loves her with all of his heart. Knowing damn well that he’s not going anywhere.

“Dare I say we call it a night?” Bill smiles to his wife as the reception was drawing to a close.

“Shall we?” Y/N smiles looking up at Bill as he captures her lips with his, kissing her lovingly. “I’ll take that as a yes”

Til the stars burn out above you

When the two made it to their hotel room at the end of a wonderful night, Bill hasn’t moved his gaze from Y/N. Her smile always being breath taking and it hasn’t gone away even for a second from this entire day. Something he truly can’t get enough of.

“I love you”

“I love you more Mr. Hader”

“Oh, Mrs. Hader. I love you more than life itself” Bill smiles wrapping his arms around her waist as she brought the two closer to each other.

Til the moon is but a silver shell

“I don’t want this night to end...”

“It doesn’t have to” He smiles helping her out of her heels before taking his phone out for a moment to put on a song. “May I have this dance?”

“You shall” Y/N smiles taking his hand as he brought her close once again.

No other love, let no other love

Know the wonder of your spell

The two swayed to the music as Y/N rests her head on Bill’s chest. Enjoying the never ending moment, of them dancing like there’s nothing around them.

“Bill?”

“Hm?”

“Are you happy?”

“Always”

“Good, so am I”

He spun her for a second pulling her back in, feeling her hands rest on the back of his neck. Her eyes locked with his. Her perfect smile always warming his heart. His embrace always making her feel safe.

Perfect

#bill hader #bill hader gifs #bill hader x reader

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starshineandbooks · 4 years ago

Text

Things are better if I stay...

word count: 4,105

Title from Helena by My Chemical Romance

Ao3

Warnings: MAJOR CHARTER DEATH! Angst, dealing with the death, after life, trauma, blood, gore, attempted murder, accidental murder, successful murder, Murderous! Virgil (He isn’t the killer) LOGAN ANGST! Fuck it, everyone hurts. Also not beta read

Pairings: LAMP, Thomas/Harley (Heart)

For @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors‘ Laoft au LOGAN ANGST

Summary: A coup gone wrong ends Logan’s life early, even by human standards, he dies and his loved ones are left to pick up the pieces.

AKA: I got sad so I took my emotional support character from not only the fandom but the LAOFT AU specificaly, and killed him. Oops.

Logan wasn’t supposed to be there, he never was. It was meant for his husband, for Virgil. A plan made by drunken faeries to throw a coup, and try to over through Virgil.

Virgil who was at home with their daughter. Virgil who was the faerie prince. Virgil who would later be very very murderous.

Logan strides through the door of the faerie hill,making sure he has everything in his satchel, eyes falling to the crunching leaves under foot. He sighs, the autumn air chilly this evening, just this side of unpleasant.

The next time Logan has to go and get Bell’s lesbian out of trouble he’ll have to have a real coming to Jesus with Bell. Logan shakes the thought from his mind, he must be spending too much time with May.

“Help!” A voice calls, and Logan goes still.

Logan is not delusional, he is still in a decidedly Fae part of the woods, and voices from an unseen source are definitely not to be trustable.

“HELP ME!” It rings again.

A second voice sounds, “No, you’ll draw attention.”

The second voice sounds like that of an injured man.

Logan swallows, he can’t leave them here. The voices, they’re those of his mortal husbands. Logan could never just leave them there.

Logan has never been very good at rationing things when he is distressed for a loved one.

He doesn't care, he runs to the right suddenly, following the calls for help that are in Patton’s voice, broken and brittle like glass shards. Scared, almost as chilling as when he’d been confronted with the Roman the serpent king owned, the night Roman.

Logan doesn't feel the first arrow until the second one is hitting.

Each arrow goes to his chest, hitting vital organs, and making him bleed entirely too much. He feels each arrow, fifteen in total, hit him, piercing through his skin and muscles, flowers growing from his wounds and hurting him further.

Logan crumples and hears an exchange of words that worry him.

“Oh fuck- That’s snowmelt! Oh we are so dead!”

“You are so dead, I didn’t shoot the arrows.”

“That won’t matter when the witch hears about it.”

Logan swallows hard, eyes glazing over and heart racing, what if they get Virgil next?

“Virg-” HIs throat is too full of sharp bloody shards of pain to continue.

“Logan?!” Virgil calls, appearing, it’s pretty hard for the magic in Logan’s bracelet to not let Virgil know of Logan’s condition.

Virgil scans the area just long enough to feel terrified before he looks to the ground and feels something far, far more potent than the terror of a few seconds before.

“Logan- This- This isn’t funny! Come on, get up! Get up, get up you- you- you incredibly wonderful man, get up!” Virgil shrieks, knees feeling weaker than they have in years.

“Get up.”

Logan swallows hard and manages, “I would like that very much, yes.”

“Then get up!”

“It seems as though I cannot at the moment, darling.” Logan coughs hard, lungs rattling and blood coming to splatter his face and arm as Logan tries to cover his mouth.

“Logan,” Virgil says, sinking to his knees in a surly undignified matter.

Not that Virgil could care in even the slightest with Logan bleeding out on the forest floor, in front of him no less. This isn’t right. This isn’t okay. Nothing is okay and he’s going to lose Logan isn’t he?

What is he going to tell PAtton and Roman? Kai, Sloane, Remy, Emilie, everyone else? What will he tell Linda? Or Dot and LArry?

God, what will he tell Thomas?

“Pretty stars tonight,” Logan rasps, eyes falling from the sky back to Virgil, “darling?”

“Yeah,” Virgil nods, he’ll alway agree with his husbands.

But right now Logan could say he’d never loved Virgil, and wanted to marry the serpent king but married Virgil to spite the unseelie, and that Logan had never loved anyone, and that Virgil deserved to be tortured, and Virgil would agree. Virgil would agree to anything.

“Don’t be sad, love.” Logan says weakly, reaching for Virgil.

Except that.

How could Virgil ever possibly not be sad over this?!

“Logan,” Virgil sobs, eyesight blurring at an alarming rate. But he takes Logan’s hand between his own two gently, “Logan don’t, I can get us to May.”

Virgil focuses everything he has on taking Logan to May, the shadows closing in around them, he won’t lose Logan too. Never, Logan isn’t- Logan’s not even old enough to die by human standards!

A startled shriek from Patton on the couch followed by a gasp and a call for mAy in about three voices.

Virgil’s own, if anyone was really listening, was distorting and turning decidedly non human, and much more eldritch horror-y than not.

“Shhh,” Logan shushes, “Don’t -Linny’s asleep.”

Virgil snaps back around to give Logan a very dirty look, how dare Logan shush him when Logan is literally dying. Oh god, Logan is dying- this isn’t right. Nothing is right-

“Everyone get the hell away from Logan.” May snaps, stomping forward with a black bag with pastel paisley embroidered on it and her duck slippers.

Virgil growls low, in the back of his throat, and not even he is sure what the sound most resembles.

May stares at Logan and she shakes her head with a sigh, “Logan, baby, why on God’s green earth would ya decided to become target in target practice, ya mongrel!? Are ya tryin’ ta kill me early?”

Logan stares just a little more blank than anyone would like at May’s face, “Nana-”

“Don’t you dare start some goodbye speech.”

And as if the moment could not get any worse, as if the universe hadn’t just done the not only unthinkable, but the also unforgivable by promising Logan chronic pain if not death, banshee shrieking starts up in the yard.

The snarl that leaves Roman as he drags Patton into the yard is much more threatening than Virgil thinks he’s ever heard.

“‘M sorry.” Logan rasps, a gurgle following before he swallows as hard as he can, “nd I love you, and all o’ them. Don’- d-”

“Logan don’t you dare,” May snaps wetly, “Don’t you dare! Just hold on!”

She sets a hand on his shoulder and starts digging through her bag hastily with the other.

“Don’ let them be too sa-”

“Logan, I’ll kill you if you do this.” She growls, pulling a bottle from the bag and opening it quickly before doing her level best to get it down Logan’s throat.

Logan swallows the liquid as best he can around the lack of control over his muscles he has going on. His eyes fall to Virgil’s, trying to plead Virgil to do something. To ease the pain.

And what Virgil wouldn’t do for those quick silver eyes.

“Have I told you about how I love you? Well, I’ll tell you again.” Virgil’s voice starts to lessen in distortion and grows more and more alike to the moon breaching the broken ice of a pond.

Logan’s breathing becomes more and more shallow, and even harder to keep up. His lungs rattle with every breath now, and his blood collects in his throat.

And Virgil talks, he isn’t quite sure what he’s saying, and from the looks of it, neither is Logan. May has turned her back on them, oddly quiet.

Then, “Vatti?”

A small voice, a girl’s voice. Linda’s voice.

As if shocked, Logan tries to get to see his baby one last time, figure out why she sounds so broken.

Linda slowly steps forward, “VAtti, what- Is he-”

“Go upstairs, Linny.” May says, voice making Virgil think on those spiky balls from the trees everyone uses around christmas, sometimes called a witch burr, but as miserable as wet socks.

“Mamaw-”

“Upstairs Linda Marie.”

Linda casts a look to Logan and chokes, “Papa-”

“He loves ya, now go upstairs.”

“Mamaw-”

“Now. One.”

“But-”

“Two, Miss Linny I’ll tan yer hide if ya make me get ta three.”

“I love you papa,” Linda says before running upstairs to try to pray this all into some twisted, dark, horrendous nightmare.

Virgil looks down just in time to watch the life and fight leave Logan’s eyes, and oh, that’s a rather dull look in those eyes. Isn’t it?

“What’ll we tell Thomas?” Virgil asks after a pause of who knows how long, but more than he could bear.

“The truth, I’d imagine.”

“You want to tell Logan that his brother was murdered in cold blood in the middle of faerie?” Virgil growls, then growls lower, “He was killed in the middle of my land.”

“So he was.”

“I have business as soon as we finish telling the others.” Virgil sneers, “Someone is going to answer for all of this.”

May turns after a moment, “You won’t be going alone.”

“We’ll see you hag.”

“Shuddup.” May scoffs.

And if the two are teary or maybe even crying, neither says anything, just this once.

----------

Virgil doesn't know when Patton and Roman came in, only that he hadn’t gone to bed yet. Having instead opted to sit in Logan’s garden, out back.

“Virgil?” Roman asks after a moment, sitting on the ground beside his husband. “Did- Was he in pain-”

Virgil snorts, “No, he was only murdered and shot full of arrows, he wasn’t in-” Virgil promptly shuts his mouth before sighs, “I- I am sorry. That was cruel.”

“Just- just a little, sweetie.” Patton ists on Virgil’s otherside, and Virgil isn’t sure when that happened either.

“We have to tell the others, his parents. We have to tell Thomas,” Virgil croaks, “How are we meant to tell Thomas?”

“Linda said she saw him.” Roman supplies, “So, uh, there’s that.”

Virgil forces himself to look at Roman, and he nearly screams when he sees the look upon Roman’s face. Whether in protective rage or broken sobs, Virgil’s isn’t sure, so he bites it back.

“He uh- God!” Virgil mutters something unkind under his breath about himself and words before managing, “He said we shouldn’t be sad. What the fuck does that mean?!”

Patton gives a laugh, and the underlying tone of a glass bell breaking as it rings isn’t unnoticed by Virgil. Virgil turns his head to see Patton and that was also a bad choice. It seems Virgil is only capable of making incredibly, spectacularly horrid decisions tonight.

“Just like him,” Roman shakes his head, setting his hands palm down on his knees and squeezing, “always so dismissive of his own worth!”

A thick, suffocating, decidedly sharp silence settles over the three. None of them quite touch the others, but they all want to.

To everyone’s surprise, it’s Mamaw who breaks the silence by walking into the backyard. Hands on her hips, “It’s three thirty in the morning, get yer asses in bed. This ain’t gonna be an easy recovery but we all know Logan’d have our hides if we let it tear us apart.”

“Mamaw,” Roman croaks weakly, turning to see his grandmother, “You can’t mean-”

“I mean what I said, Roman. Get yourselves in the house, or the faerie hill or somewhere else, but ya better sleep. We’re all going over to the Sanders house as soon as the sun comes up, because tonight’s a full moon and I am not going ta loose more o’ ya.”

“We should go there now.” PAtton says softly, “They’ll be angry if we put it off.”

“But-”

“I’ll go.” Virgil pushes to his feet, eyes finding the moon, not technically full, tomorrow night it will be though.

“Virgil-”

Virgil turns to face the humans, his humans, “You could come, if you like. I would not blame you if you stayed though.”

“We-”

“You two are decidedly human, yer stayin’ right here.” May says sharply, “and Virgil will be back by breakfast.”

“Yes, by breakfast.” Virgil says, though he isn’t sure when it is, or whether it will be this particular breakfast.

May nods, corralling PAtton and Roman into the house, and onto the couch, because she isn’t fool enough to think they’d sleep in the bed all four shared. Three now.

----------

Thomas shrieked when Virgil appeared in his bedroom, waking a worried Harley with said shriek.

“Oh- goodness! Virgil-”

“I didn’t mean to come to this room.” Virgil whispers softly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, force of habit, I mean, Logan used to share this room with me and-”

Virgil gives a choked sob at his husband’s name.

“Is Logan sick or something?” Thomas staggers out of bed quickly, grabbing a shirt from the floor.

“They-” Virgil shakes his head, “He’s dead. Dead, dead, dead.”

Thomas goes silent and Harley mutters a curse word.

“Well, I suppose we’d better go downstairs then.” Thomas sighs, shaking his head, “And, you’re sure he’s y’know, gone?”

Virgil gives an indignant sound, “As if I didn’t watch it happen.”

“Okay.” Thomas walks to stand by Virgil, and he just pulls the taller man into a hug, “It’ll be okay.”

“How are you so-”

“Calm?” Thomas gives a laugh, “I'm not awake and haven’t processed it yet, give me a bit.”

“O-oh.”

“I’ll go get- uh- yeah.” Harley finishes lamely, striding out of the room.

Brian rushes into the room, “Linda’s upset, she said-”

“I heard,” Thomas sighs, “Brian it’s threey forty ish, why’re you even awake?”

“Had a nightmare, ‘nd I didn’t wanna bother anyone, but kitty’s always there.”

Virgil sighs, finally wrapping Thomas up in a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“You can’t know that!”

“I do. You’d never hurt any of them, let alone kill.” Thomas says thickly, “”mon then, we’d better go tell mom and dad.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Virgil is led downstairs and sat on the couch, in Logan’s spot on the couch. And if that doesn't just make him want to scream, cry, or through a tantrum he isn’t sure what does.

He is vaguely aware of voices, and a conversation happening, but he couldn’t tell you who was speaking or what was being said.

“Virgil,” Logan’s voice insists urgently, and he knows it’s just his mind being cruel. Logan can’t be here, Logan’s gone.

“Virgil!” Thomas says louder, setting a hand on his shoulder, “Hey bud- we uh-”

“We- was he in pain.”

Virgil just nods slowly, “Uh- yeah, arrows do that.”

“He was-” Dot swallows hard.

“Y-yeah. Well, I should go. I’m sorry I don’t uhm- I don’t wanna intrude-”

“You can stay.” LArry offers weakly, “You’re family.”

“I have business to attend to.” Virgil says finally, “The sooner I start the sooner the bastards that killed him are found.”

“O-oh.”

“Hey uhm….” Thomas sighs before he just goes for it, “You’re family Virgil, don’t disappear on us. Please. And don’t you dare disappear on your daughter and husbands.”

“But-”

“You better come back on friday, we’ll have a big family dinner, all the gang.”

“But.”

“You’ll be here.” Thomas says, “And you’ll do it.”

“Thomas-”

“Go home, see your husbands.” Harley says finally, “It’ll do you some good.”

Virgil looks to Harley, startled, “But-”

“Go.”

----------

Virgil appears in the kitchen to his own house after a stop to demand Bell and white to start an investigation. It involved Bell and WHite berating him for abandoning the living husbands.

Virgil finds Patton and Roman on the couch, tangled to gether. Tear tracks staining their faces, but their breathing deep and even, they’re asleep.

Virgil goes about lifting them, and carrying them to the guest room, curled together and clinging to each other in his arms.

He sets them on the bed and sits on the edge, he won’t be sleeping tonight, or maybe ever again.

Linda stands in the doorway, “Vatti?”

Virgil turns, he’s never been good at ignoring, let alone denying his daughter anything, especially such a thing as comfort.

“C’mere liebling.” Virgil says gently, holding his arms out.

Linda rushes forward, burying herself in Virgil’s arms and chest, clambering into his lap. Virgil hugs her as tight as he can while she still breathes.

“Vatti, I- Will he come back like Gretta did?”

“No.” Virgil says, “No.”

“Oh. Good. But uhm…. Are you all going to leave too?”

“No liebling.” Virgil says, “I would never leave you.”

“But- what about daddy and pop?”

“Oh, liebling,” Virgil hums gently, “Not on purpose. But they’re human, they’ll die eventually. You and I will still be here though.”

“O-oh.” Linda says weakly, “But why-” she cuts off and a sob wracks her body.

“Because liebling, life isn’t fair.” Virgil says, not quite sure what she was going to ask but knowing it wasn’t about to be pleasant.

“I hate this.” She whispers, “It’s- it’s- it’s atrocious.”

Virgil gives a cut off sob at her choice of words, “Oh liebling, you’ll be the smartest one in the family as you get older.”

“Don’t wanna be the smartest, I want my papa.” She says petulantly.

“I know.” Virgil says gently. “I know.”

----------

Logan wakes up. To his surprise, in no pain and under a blue sky with those puffy white clouds. A large dog barks excitedly at him, so he pushes to his feet and tilts his head, watching the creature.

It barks again, turning tail and running to the edge of a tree line before turning to bark once more. Ah, Logan supposes he’s meant to follow the dog?

Logan shrugs, then laughs at himself, no one is around to see such a slip of self control after all. He follows the dog, noting the trees to be apple trees.

As the dog leads him he finds himself wondering where his husbands are and- oh. Yes. He is dead then?

He looks up to a startled gasp, finding a woman with inky hair and her hands on her hips.

“Logan Sanders.” She snaps, cuffing the back of his head, “You left them?!”

“I didn’t mean to.” Logan says, rubbing the back of his head in an attempt to soothe it, “Who are you and why did you hit me?”

“You’re a moron, you know that?!” The woman scoffs, “Askin’ who I am, if Virgil didn’t-”

“You’d be Gretta then.” Logan snorts, “You look better than last time I saw you.”

“I’d hope.” She crosses her arms stiffly, glaring at Logan.

Logan sighs, “He uhm…. Virgil misses you still. A lot, and as someone who ate your biscuit recipe product, may I just ask, do you know how spices work?”

Greta scoffs, “If it ain’t broke ya don’t fix it! Yer insufferable.”

Logan shakes his head, “I am sorry it was rude to say that I suppose I’ve spent too much time with Kai and Virgil.”

“It’s fine, Logan.” Gretta shrugs, “I figure I have eternity to make you like my cooking.”

“I see. Yes, I suppose so. But first, if I truly am dead, I think I have a snake to slap.”

“What?”

“I am less and less fond of the snake king every time Roman reveals another bit of past, I wish to slap the bastard out of the usurper.”

“Oh.” Gretta blinks, a cheshire grin spreading over her lips, “Let me get Trudi and we’ll all go with ya.”

“Very well.” Logan nods, eyes observing the people in the distance.

“I think,” Gretta says, “This is the start of a wonderfully elaborate prank on my brother. Don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, c’mon, we’d better hurry up, I know Abbey’ll wanna see you. Not sure why, you aren’t nearly as pretty as Virgil was, but he wasn’t shit either.”

Logan laughs softly, “Oh, you’re a little softer than he said-”

Gretta cuffs the back of his head again, “Shut up ya overgrown pixie.”

“O-oh.” Logan freezes, ‘Oh god Virgil- I left them. All of them- Thomas, my husbands, my parents, my friends.”

“Oh, yes, crying fixes it.”

Logan grabs Gretta’s wrist tightly, “No, you don’t get it. I left all of them, but I also left my baby. She is ten. My ten year old daughter saw me just as I was dying.”

“Oh.” Gretta blinks, “That’s uhm- Let’s go get Abbey, she’ll be better equipped for emotions.”

“I just want to go home!” Logan snaps, “Please?!”

“Ya can’t, Logan. Yer here now.”

“Thanks, I hate it.” Logan croaks, his voice cracking like thin ice over a lake, and he plunges into the darkness below.

“Oh- ABIGAIL GAUGE!”

“YEAH?!”

“C’MERE WOULD YA?! LOGAN’S HERE EARLY AND HAVING A PITY PARTY AND I CAIN’T HELP ‘IM!” Gretta calls, flinching as Logan collapses into her.

She awkwardly wraps her arms around him, patting him stiffly, “There there. Strange faerie I don’t know well who’s sobbin’ inta my shirt.”

“Virgil used to talk like that.” Logan says miserably, “I miss him.”

“Ah, I know, little gremlin weaves his way into your heart and then you lose him.” Gretta mutters, “C’mon Logan you can’t mean to cry forever.”

“I might.” Logan petulantly mumbles.

“Logan, baby, that you?” A second woman’s voice sounds, “God, you’re bigger than I remember for sure.”

Logan turns slowly, finding a fiery redhead, “Who- Who are you?”

“I go by Abbey,” She shrugs, “I’m Roman’s mom.”

“Mom and dad talked about you sometimes.”

“Ye-ah, well, I talk about them sometimes too.” Abbey holds a hand out, “C’mon baby, we’ll get you settled and calmed down, then we can go wherever you like.”

Logan takes Abbey’s hand, flinging his arms around her, feeling an oddly deep connection he didn’t know existed with this woman who looks just enough like Roman to hurt.

And maybe it takes Logan a while to settle, sometimes it still hurts. But he does end up slapping Durrant, multiple times, Gretta, Trudi, and Abbey also join the slapping the bastard out of Durrant party.

Virgil sees the poor faeries who killed Logan to a public execution. But it doesn't do anything to fix the ache Logan’s loss created. He’s more protective of his loved ones, each and every one of them. Especially Linda.

Linda who may not look like Logan, but shares in the ability to grow plants. Linda who has taken up the habit of reading herself to sleep with dictionaries. Linda, who will outlive Virgil, god willing that is.

Patton heals slowly, they all do, but Patton lost not only his husband, but his very first friend. Patton lost the man who he did his first play date with. Patton lost a lot when Logan left them, but he healed slowly.

Roman becomes more reckless at first, he couldn’t care less, if he dies he can see Logan again. He eventually, through therapy Emilie provides -who else?- realizes that he still has so much to live for. It gets a little easier, but Roman internalizes it, that two men he’s loved dead, what if Patton aor Virgil is next?

Virgil, Patton, and Roman’s marriage is strained at first. They still love each other, and that would never change, but the dynamic changed. They were mourning, and breaking, and not talking about it. Again. After a year and Linda sobbing and asking if they’re going to break up and leave her too, they go to counseling, which, helps. It isn’t perfect, and they’ll alway be missing their last piece, they won’t be whole. But, they’re better, they’re marriage isn’t strained.

Thomas withdrew from the world, only really talking to Harley and Brian. He lost his best friend in the whole world, his barley younger but still baby, brother. He lost his partner in crime, his childhood memory. Now Thomas only knows half of everything, where as before Thomas knew half of everything, so did Logan, so they knew everything.

May got crankier. May lost another kid she’d loved to a horrible accident. Another kid she couldn’t save. May lives in the past for a while, but she knows the drill, she’s probably the best prepared.

Dot and Larry stop going in public when avoidable. They cry together, and the gp to therapy. They lost their child, and so much more. They lost not just Logan, but almost Thomas too.

Kai doesn't make fun of Logan anymore, he misses the nerd.

Sloane and Corbin try to keep Thomas company when they can, but they all have lives of their own.

Elliot spends a lot of time with Virgil, maybe they weren’t as close to Logan, but they did count him a friend.

Remy and Emilie while they mourn and definitely are a little strained and weary, they make sure the others have groceries and therapy. They do their level best to help the others when they can.

#sanders sides #laoft #major character death #blood #arrows #gore #after life #sanders sides angst #DEAD! Logan Sanders #romantic lamp

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deadlyaffairs · 5 years ago

Text

After You Left [7]

previous //

Dad!Tom AU

Summary: y/n finds out she’s pregnant, but she and Tom get into an argument about moving to America. 3 years pass and Tom finally comes home where he finds out his parents and ex-girlfriend have been keeping a secret from him.

Word Count: 1.6k

y/n couldn’t read Tom, he was smiling and responding to Ben in a way that just seemed right. She figured it had to do with the fact that Ben was his son and Tom did have some preparation with Paddy when he was younger.

Ben’s coughing brought y/n out of her daze.

“Ben, you have to cover your mouth please.” y/n sat beside him in the back. They opted to take her car since it would’ve taken time to remove his car seat and install it in Tom’s, then remove it once more and reinstall it.

“Where we going?” Ben asked, his eyes irritated and puffy from constant rubbing.

“The doctor baby, you’re sick.”

“I already go.”

“I know, but we have to go again.“

The car was silent as y/n never finished. She couldn’t seem to figure out a way to explain that sometimes you don’t get better to her three-year-old. Tom pretended he wasn’t stealing glances of y/n but his eyes kept finding her, taking in her maternal instincts freeze.

“Your mom just wants to be sure you’re ok. It’s okay to go more than once.” Tom said trying to fill in the blank. Tom glanced back between two sets of eyes staring at him. He couldn’t really read y/n’s expression but saw that her face held a hint of surprise, however, he also saw that Ben looked intrigued.

“What you?”

Tom glanced at y/n, who was staring at the roof of the car as he tried to make out what the toddler could possibly mean by that “What I?”

“What do you mean. He’s asking.” y/n said softly as if she could hear the gears turning in Tom’s head, she tried to ignore the fluttering of her stomach and the racing of her heart, convinced it was her who needed to see a doctor as well.

‘Well, for example when Tess was sick I took her to the doctor...” Tom was trying to say

“Poor Tessa.” Ben interrupted, which lifted the corner of Tom’s mouth.

“Yes, poor Tess. But they said she ate something bad and when we were home she was still sick.”

“Doctor lied?”

“No... the doctor didn’t lie. Tessa was just sick longer than they thought so they had to check to see if something else was making her sick.”

y/n listened as Tom explained, she couldn’t stop her stomach from fluttering it feeling like a swarm of butterflies. Ben looked pleased with the answer or maybe it was that he puzzling it over. Tom stared straight towards the road and she hoped she’d catch his eye again, yet she noticed his jaw was clenching. She thought back to when they were together, how he’d do that if he was overthinking.

Suddenly she began to overthink. Was it about Ben? Was it about what he said? Or was it about him being in this situation? Did he feel like she was forcing this onto him? Her mind fuzzed over the possibilities.

The rest of the drive was quiet, Ben’s sniffling had progressed throughout the ride seeing as the three-year-old wouldn’t let y/n lift the tissue up close enough to wipe his nose. Once Tom pulled into the hospital driveway he glanced back after putting the car into park.

“I can find a parking spot while you check-in or something...”

y/n nodded, or something was Tom’s way of deflecting. She recalled. Maybe he hadn’t really changed, maybe it only seemed that way.

“Tom, thank you for driving but if you need to call someone to pick you up I won't stop you. I just need the keys.”

Tom again felt the urge to listen to her, to do what she said. To call up Harrison or whoever to pick him up and leave, yet he kept thinking about Ben and if he was ready to be a father. He kept coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t ready. He still had his whole career and life ahead of him. Yet he that didn’t stop him from saying “I— 'm staying. I want to stay.”

y/n felt as if her heart had burst. As if the rest of the invisible weight pushing down against her chest had finally released.

“Please don’t do that.” y/n felt her eyes watering, Ben began to fidget, he was confused and didn’t understand the tension. Which made him uncomfortable. “I don’t need false hope. I can’t do that to him.” she finished saying.

Tom stayed put, y/n took that as a cue to continue and balled her hands into fists. She wasn’t angry, just confused because everything was screaming at her to make this right but at the same time, she still loved Tom and wished he would fight for her and for Ben. “I’m not saying you have to leave. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing this onto you. You did say you weren’t ready.”

Tom remained silent, he assumed it was because she was right, those were his words. It was also because he could hardly recall a time where his mum and dad fought. There were the occasional disagreements that lead to the silent treatment, but thinking back on it. He couldn’t remember any fights that caused their children anxiety, never arguments that caused tension.

Instead, Tom opted for “I know what I said. I just want to make sure you’re ok. He’s your son.”

y/n knew it shouldn’t have stung the way it did, she hoped that maybe it just came out wrong. Tom on the other hand instantly felt the impact of his words. Your son, your son, your son.

“Alright...” y/n unclasped Ben from his car seat, She could tell Ben was trying to make sense of their words and the meanings behind them she kissed his forehead and tightened the blanket around him as she pulled him out into the cold London air.

Once they were fully out of the car and had walked through the automatic front doors, Tom sat and stared at them disappear before driving off to find an empty parking space.

After y/n and Ben sat in the waiting room for fifteen minutes while Tom stood outside in front of the doors contemplating going inside and handing over the keys spitting out some lame excuse to ditch, they all sat in the waiting room in silence as Ben laid in his mum’s lap fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Benjamin Holland?” A nurse called out, y/n stood immediately since she was used to hearing his name on a daily basis. This revelation, however, took Tom by complete and utter surprise as he stayed seated, by the time he was done he could see that y/n and the nurse were about to round the corner of the hall to a room.

“So it seems his fever has gotten worse.” a man with sharp rimmed glasses stated.

“Does that mean anything?” y/n asks right after the man finishes his sentence.

“Fret not dear, children are more likely to get sick at such a young age due to their bodies not being completely developed. It’s actually a good thing since they learn how you and others treat them, allowing them to learn empathy.”

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to nag but I’m just frightened because my father died of cancer just recently and it runs in the family.”

“My condolences. However, if it makes you feel better we’ll go right ahead and run some test.”

“I hate to be that woman but I would absolutely appreciate it.”

“Nonsense. You are a mother worried about the health and wellbeing of her child. I’m going to go ahead and get that set up for you, a nurse will be in shortly alright love.”

The doctor smiles, turns and gestures for y/n to lead the way, she lets a deep sigh out before turning to the shut door where through the small window she can see Ben laying on the too big hospital bed. He looks even tinier, his eyes red and nose running with Tom sitting over him with hawk-like concentration.

She enters, the doctor following behind her, “Ello Ben, I’m Dr. Moore how are you feeling mate?”

“Tared... I go home now.”

y/n swore something sank to the pit of her stomach. And though Tom would never admit it his chest felt constricted, it was becoming hard to breathe.

“That’s alright. Mom and Dad are here we’re going to take care of you”

For a second Tom was unphased by the title but it immediately hit him once y/n began to stammer.

“Oh Tom, just Tom...”

She wasn’t saying he was wrong but she was covering up a lie. A lie, he suddenly remembered was what came between his happiness. He looked over at Ben who was looking at the ugly blue comforter and couldn’t possibly have caught what the doctor said or was good at hiding it for being a toddler.

“Hey...” Tom said trying to get Ben’s attention. Ben lifted his eyes up to Tom and it was an indescribable feeling to see a child your child looking back at you. “ Tessa got better and you will too.”

“Was Tess tared?”

Tom tried to think of a time when Tessa was scared, what he did to make her feel better. But his mind went to y/n when her aunt first got sick and how Tom was just there holding her.

“Yes, but I was right there with her and I held her when she got too scared.” Tom smiled softly at Ben who sat with furrowed brows before he raised them in a manner that only a kid could pull off and look totally like an adult.

“You hold me?” Ben said poking his own chest to emphasize his question.

y/n turned away from the doctor. Ben’s question taking her by surprise but her body immediately filled with anxiety as she glanced at Tom waiting with Ben for his answer.

“...”

// next

TAGLIST

The names with lines through them aren’t letting me tag you! Also please let me know if you’ve asked to be on the taglist but aren’t! Thanks for reading! And just to let ya know to give me feedback even if it is grammar checks gives me the motivation to do better in future parts!

@smexylemony @meyrapp @ameliawriites @unicorngummybears @paigeyisme @soullesstrashcan @pikapower18 @justadirtymindedgirl @random-fandom-lady @livasaurasrex @thomas-spidey @debnambitch @tomshufflepuff @pietrotheavenger @let-me-luve-you @fairies-and-glitter @kattholland @mystxrieux @stevieboyharrington @miss-marvel-lous @petersnmyhead @fesslasuisse @misadventuressamm @spideypxgirl @hollandjmc @misysugarbee @immajustread @distressedjellyfish @chonisberonica @dragonqueendany @falling-stars-never-cry @living-on-rice @lizzyclifford13-blog @bellaamarvel87 @deep-dark-and-dangerous @thebadassbitchqueen @tragicluver @karlitabi-rrito @jackiehollanderr @fangirling-way-of-life @laucontrerasv @danicarosaline @parkeret @mybitchborky @bookgirlunicorn @kms-blanton @lostxsea @cporter003

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland au imagines #tom holland au #dad!tom #dad!au #deadlyaffairs #deadlyaffairs imagines

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years ago

Text

Unflusterable

Warnings: Food mention, some swearing, Deceit and Remus are mentioned but super briefly, gay, a lot of gay, like this fic is just gay Roman waiting to be really really soft with Virgil Pairing: Prinxiety (duh)

Roman doesn’t get flustered.

He’s a prince, after all! The romantic side of Thomas, dashing and bold and witty! He was the one who flustered all who even looked at him!

So Roman was definitely, utterly, completely, not even a tiny bit flustered by the mere existence of Virgil.

That would be foolish! To fluster a prince of love such as himself, there would have to be dramatics! Proclamations of love! Flowing poetry and sugary nicknames!

Virgil didn’t do things like that. Virgil didn’t do anything romance related, really. He seemed happy to just be a brooding stormcloud of isolation, and that was fine by Roman.

Because Virgil wasn’t flustering him.

During movie night, when Virgil had accidentally fallen asleep leaning against Roman, his head falling on the Prince’s shoulder, and Logan commented Roman looked redder than a solanum lycopersicum?

Roman was just a little warm- that’s all! After all, Virgil was leaning on him, and he was very warm, with all the heat caught in his hoodie, and he was right on top of Roman, face smooth and relaxed, breathing calm and gentle, looking so at peace-

Roman had just been making some observations. And overheating. Not doing something silly like crushing hard. Not him!

And that time when Roman had headed into the kitchen, only to find Virgil and Patton baking, and ended up remaining in the doorway until Patton asked him if he needed something?

Well, he had been creating all day! So many ideas and plans tire out a Prince! So he was paused in the doorway because he was tired. Not because he was in a dazed stupor, watching Virgil laugh and genuinely smile through Patton’s puns, and not because he noticed how Virgil had gotten some flour in his hair, dusting it white, and there was cookie dough on his cheeks, and how he still looked utterly drop-dead gorgeous anyways.

People looked at Roman and thought embarrassingly sweet thoughts like that. Not the other way around.

Or that time when he had gone to fetch the Dark sides to plan the next video, only to find them and Virgil engaged in a vicious water gun war and found himself unable to say a word until his half-brained brother shot him with a gooey substance that was decidedly not water?

He was simply surprised such activities went on in the dark and dreary corner of Thomas’s mind! It wasn’t like he had been caught off-guard seeing Virgil in action, eyes glinting even in the low light as he took a perfect shot at Deceit, looking so focused and engaged and confident, like a different person, yet just as breathtaking as always.

Because Roman. Did. NOT. Get flustered.

And as long as Roman could just remember this, he could stop doing silly things like constantly getting distracted. An occurrence that had nothing to do with whether or not a certain anxious side was in the room.

Armed with this knowledge, he left his room (where he had most certainly not been spending a few hours reminding himself he was unflusterable) and headed for the Commons.

And was almost immediately forced to test his so-called unflusterablitiy.

Because the Commons were empty aside from Virgil, who was doing nothing other than sitting on the back of the couch, leaning on it and peering tiredly at his phone screen. It was the most mundane, boring sight Roman could have imagined.

And yet he was once more frozen in place, cheeks feeling warm, focusing way too much on the way Virgil’s hair was messed up like he had just woken up, yet somehow looking adorable on him when it would just look hideous on anyone else.

How his hoodie was only half-zipped up, showcasing the top of a Nightmare Before Christmas t-shirt, so incredibly casual yet incredibly lovable at the same time.

How, when he yawned, he stretched his back out like a cat might, his mouth a cute little ‘o’ before he slumped back into the couch, blinking tiredly at his screen like a perfect mess.

How Roman desperately wanted to pull a blanket over him and gently push him down onto the actual couch, and tuck the blanket around him while Virgil weakly fought and slowly closed his eyes despite his protests, his hand snaking out to grab Roman’s wrist when he tried to leave and forcing him to come down and nap with him-

Fuck.

Before Roman properly had the time to contemplate how screwed he was, Virgil was glancing up from his phone, having noticed him. He smirked, and Roman wondered how it was possible for Virgil to have the same face as him yet be insanely prettier.

“Like wh-”

Before Virgil could even get close to finishing his thought, Roman had darted out of the room, racing to his room even faster than his heart rate. He slammed the door to his room the minute he was inside, throwing himself on his bed and burying his burning face in the cool silk sheets.

Romance did not get flustered.

Roman, however, very clearly did.

A few minutes later, he heard a couple of heavy, loud knocks on his door. He glanced at it, trying to decide if he really wanted to entertain a visitor when he was pretty sure he was still blushing.

“Ro? You in there?”

Virgil.

On one hand, Roman knew he should absolutely not open that door. The chance of him being stunned into silence within a second was guaranteed, and he had just started to fight the blush out of his cheeks.

On the other hand, it was Virgil. Roman was opening that door before he had even finished going through the pros and cons of the action.

The pro that was ‘seeing Virgil’ and the con of ‘will become severely flustered’ hit at the same time, Roman fighting the urge to grab Virgil’s hands- which were in the middle of worriedly yet familiarly worrying the edges of his sleeves- and simply hold them, maybe gently kiss the knuckles, as soon as he opened the door.

Through sheer will power alone, Roman managed to clear his throat and ask (impressively without stuttering), “Can I help you, That Gloomy Gentleman?”

Virgil’s mouth quirked into a quick smile at the nickname before quickly transforming into a frown. The effort Roman exerted to not draw his sword and stab himself for possibly causing that frown was Herculean.

“I was just wondering if, uh, if I had done anything?” He asked, haltingly, flinching when Roman stared at him in bewilderment. “You’ve been acting really weird around me recently, and you just sorta bolted from the room when I tried to speak to you, so I wanted to know if I had accidentally offended you, or hurt your feelings, or-”

“Of course you haven’t!” Roman interrupted, possibly a touch too passionately if Virgil’s shocked expression was anything to go by. He coughed, trying to reclaim the nonexistent dignity he was clinging too. “I mean, no, Virgil, I’m not upset with you. I’m sorry you perceived my actions as such.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Logan, you finally taking Deceit up on those costume lessons?”

“It’s me, Virgil. Roman, not Logan.” Roman said sincerely before attempting to reclaim his normal grandeur with, “I’m insulted you could ever even think that nerd could play a part as extravagant as mine!”

Virgil clearly didn’t buy it. “Uh huh. Well, if you’re really Roman, what’s up?”

“What do you mean?”

“I did just mention the whole ‘freezes every time I’m in the room and just fucking ran when I tried to talk to you’ thing, right? If the problem isn’t me then it’s gotta be you.”

Roman laughed, trying to sound princely and ending up sounding nervous. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m the same-”

“I’mma stop you right there.” Virgil cut in, physically pressing a finger to Roman’s lips as he did. The touch was incredibly brief, but it had still fried Roman’s every neuron beyond thinking. “Something is clearly up. You might as well tell me now before I fetch Deceit.”

Normally, Roman could come up with a good dozen witty responses; at the least, a very indigent ‘you wouldn’t dare.’

At the moment, however, Roman’s mind was only capable of stringing together the words, “Virgil” and “pretty,” which was quite impressive all things considered.

What wasn’t impressive was the fact that these internal thoughts had, apparently, become external.

Virgil blinked rapidly at him, caught off guard. He had just opened his mouth to say something when Roman slammed the door on him.

He regretted the action immediately, but it was that or actually facing the truth and his stunningly attractive, impossible-to-look-away-from crush. Gay panic had made its choice.

“You know we can just rise into each other’s rooms, right?”

So, gay panic had just directly lead to him shrieking like a five-year-old and jumping ten feet in the air in front of his crush. Maybe dying from embarrassment was a better life choice.

Virgil sighed from behind him. “Just because you refuse to face me doesn’t mean we’re not going to talk about the fact you just stuttered out, ‘Virgil pretty,’ before slamming your door in my face.”

Roman ran a hand down his face. “Yeah, but I have half a chance not stumbling over every single word I say like this.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Roman sighed. Better to just tell him. Maybe then no one would question him when he started walking around blindfolded, considering as long as Virgil existed that was going to be the only way he could keep his thoughts about him.

“Virgil, I- every time I see your face, I see stars in your eyes and sunlight in your smile. Every time you speak, silver bells ring and angels sing. Every time you so much as blink you steal my own breath. You’re… you’re so many types of beauty, and I’m bowled over by all of them.”

“Y’know, you could have just said something like, ‘every time I see you I cannot deal.’”

Roman huffed. “You are ruining my dramatic profession of love.”

“More like cheesy.” Virgil replied, before continuing, tone lightly teasing, “And what I’m getting from that ‘dramatic’ cheesefest is that I have flustered Romance, which according to you is impossible.”

“It is.” Roman said, a small smile on his face. “Turns out flustering Roman is a lot more plausible, however.”

Still teasing, Virgil asked, “Roman, do you have a crush on me?”

“Crush feels like an understatement at this point.”

“And, oh Blushy Prince of Romance, what do you think would happen if you knew a certain somebody had a crush right back at you?”

Roman swallowed past the suddenly huge lump of Gay in his throat. “I think I’d die.”

Virgil chuckled, sounding closer than he should have been until Roman felt Virgil’s arms settle lazily around his neck, the direct source of his overwhelming Gay panic pressed against his back and tucking his head into the crook of Roman’s neck.

“Then perish.” Virgil said, mouth much, much too close to Roman’s ear, breath warm, and he leaned forward a bit, moving his head just slightly to plant a kiss on Roman’s cheek and- yep, there it was, Roman’s last brain cell, floating away in the breeze.

Powered entirely by Gay panic, Roman twisted his head when Virgil pulled away, just managing to catch the other’s lips. The kiss was horribly awkward, both of them craning their necks for it to work, but Roman was kissing Virgil- his head could fall off in the next moment for all he cared.

They broke apart after a minute, Virgil’s smile quickly transforming into a smirk as he saw how dazed Roman looked. “You really are a gay mess, aren’t you?”

In a different world, where Roman currently had the skill to string together words, he would have responded, “Well, I’m a mess, and I’m very gay, so I’d say yes,” or something that sounded like he still had his wits with him.

Roman chose to just count his lucky stars he only babbled senselessly for a few seconds before just nodding. Virgil laughed.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

And here Roman was thinking it wasn’t possible for his cheeks to get any redder.

Instead of defending himself, he just reached up to hold Virgil’s arms from where they were still dangling around his neck, tugging them tighter around him, treasuring the warmth and the light smell of lavender that clung to Virgil.

Roman let out an over-the-top dreamy sigh before letting his head fall backwards so he could see Virgil’s face. So he was probably going to spend the rest of his life stumbling over his every other statement while constantly looking like he had a terrible sunburn.

Seemed a fair price to pay for such a perfect view.

#the cryptid speaks #the cryptid answers #ts roman #ts virgil #everyone else is mentioned at one point or another #prinxiety #gay #gay panic #so much gay y'all #ts sides #sander sides #fanfic #fanfiction #learn how to write prompts and not full stories challenge @ myself

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