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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

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The former God of Magic resents The Mother for sticking him on Earth, and plans on causing as much havoc as he can to punish Her;

Version 2, Dark!Merlin

INTRO

(Version 1, Good!Merlin)

TW: A lot of emotional manipulation, a little violence, a lot of angst.

“You’re late.”

The woman’s well practiced blank mask falls into a scowl as she stares at Merlin with mistrust:

“Well, perhaps I was putting off coming to see you, no matter how necessary it is.”

The gang can see the bob of Merlin’s head as he lets out a low chuckle, and they have to stop themselves from recoiling; they’d never heard a noise like that from their young friend before, it sounded almost... cruel.

He lifts a hand to cover his heart as he says in faux offense:

“You wound me, sister. You didn’t want to see your favourite sibling?”

Everyone frowns in confusion, Merlin doesn’t have... siblings. That’s not even mentioning the fact that this woman barely seems human.

The woman doesn’t hide her slight disgust, taking a step back from Merlin and letting out a harsh breath:

“I came here to tell you that you need to hurry up. Time is running out.”

Merlin chuckles again, turning to the side and taking a few short paces, his hands held leisurely behind his back. The amusement on his face is disturbing, and Arthur gulps, not noticing the way Mordred is growing paler and paler by the second. Merlin doesn’t turn to look at the woman as he speaks, and his smirk stretches wider:

“But I’m having so much fun, Ava!”

The woman, Ava, huffs again, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. If the gang weren’t so semi-sure that Merlin wasn’t dangerous, they’d think she looked scared:

“Mother sent you here to complete a task. Get it done, and you can come home. Isn’t that what you want? To come home?”

Merlin’s smirk falls, and the snarl that the gang briefly see on his face before he whips around to face Ava takes their breath away. They barely notice the thunder, snapping in the distance in time with Merlin’s anger:

“Mother’s the one keeping me here in the first place. She could accept me back any time.”

Ava takes another step back, and Merlin tilts his head ever so slightly at the movement, but waits for her to speak:

“As punishment for your cruelty. She isn’t happy, you’re making a mess of things.”

Merlin chuckles again, tilting his head even further, and his words have an immediate chilling effect on the group hiding in the bushes:

“Well, if she insists on sending the God of Chaos to fix a problem, perhaps she should expect a little mess. Plus, I’m having more fun here than I’ve had in centuries. These humans... so gullible.-”

Ava shakes her head mournfully, but before she can say anything, Merlin continues, now pacing calmly around the clearing, waving his hands and grinning in his excitement:

“-I mean, they’re just so... easy. To play with, to manipulate. You know they all trust me? They all come running to naïve, innocent, loving little Merlin, spilling all their secrets as they go. Did you know, the drunkard is the son of a noble? “Fuck nobility” my arse, he is nobility.-”

Gwaine clenches his jaw and looks to the floor, ignoring the stares of Arthur and Leon, but before anything can be muttered, Merlin continues, listing their greatest secrets off on his fingers:

“-The gentle giant is terrified that someone’s going to find out that his preferences lie with men, which is ridiculous considering the way he stares at the aforementioned drunkard when he thinks no one but little old me is watching. The blacksmith, even years on, is terrified that his whore sister will never forgive him for... something or other, I wasn’t really paying attention. Camelot’s first, The King’s most trusted, has a debilitating fear of heights, and oh if it isn’t just hilarious to watch when he has to patrol the city walls. And then, there’s the-”

Ava rolls her mournful eyes and interrupts him:

“Your point, Em?”

Merlin laughs, fully and from the belly, but the sound doesn’t bring the gang joy like it normally does:

“My point, is that I’ve got these idiots wrapped around my finger. Mortals: the universe’s most fun toy. I haven’t even gotten to half of them yet. There’s the noble one, who thinks he holds my trust, the Druid boy, whose only redeeming feature is that he’s destined to kill the King Prat one day; believe me, if it weren’t for that I’d have killed the annoying little twerp years ago. Then there’s the King Prat’s magical sister, who is full of such terror. I play with her dreams some nights, force visions of pyres and hatred and destruction to play over and over in her mind. It’s rather amusing, watching her thrash and sweat and whimper in her sleep.-”

Arthur’s head had whipped around to Morgana when Merlin had mentioned her, but the tears streaming down her face and the way her hand was clamped tightly over her mouth stripped his anger from him. Which left him with no distraction, no way to ignore the simple fact of what was happening right now. Merlin was... not what they thought. He was powerful, he was using them. He was playing with them like puppets and pulling their strings this way and that, watching as they could do nothing but follow. Arthur didn’t know what to think, and he definitely didn’t notice the tears on his own cheeks.

Mordred was pale to the point of looking like he was about to faint and Lancelot had a deep frown on his face, tears in his eyes but not quite falling, not yet. This was... a misunderstanding. He... he knows Merlin, this is a trick, or a trap, he’ll explain later and everything will be just fine. He just has to... to trust him. Everything will be fine.

Gwaine keeps his gaze on the floor. A small part of him was feeling a little prideful that Percival liked him back, but the rest of him... had no room for anything but grief. He had suspected that Merlin had magic, but this was something else, this was... a whole new person. Did he ever really know Merlin? Did any of them?

Elyan and Gwen sat pressed together tightly, though Gwen had one hand on Morgana’s shaking back, and her other was reaching around Elyan, gripping Leon’s shoulder tightly. Leon was just staring blankly at the scene in front of him, though anyone that knew him well enough would be able to see the tight clench of his jaw and the anger (and grief) in his eyes.

Ava interrupted Merlin’s gleeful ranting, the tears in her eyes a little more prominent as she took on a slightly more desperate tone:

“Please, Em, just... stop. They’re important, they have destinies, you can not destroy them or push them too far; this is cruel, even for you. This... you never used to be like this.”

Merlin turns around, facing away from his sister and giving the hidden group full view of his rage-filled face. His voice is quiet and clipped and angry as he asks:

“Oh?”

Another roll of thunder echoes through the clearing, closer this time, and fat droplets of rain fall harshly from the sky, mixing with the tears on everyone’s face. Ava sighs, tears overflowing as she gulps before answering, her voice shaking slightly as she takes a step towards Merlin:

“You’re meant to be the God of Magic, not Chaos. You were so... beautiful, balanced. You saw wonder in everything, every little spark of magic and every single prayer put a smile on your face. You loved humanity even more than Mother did. Now look at you, you’re tormenting them, torturing them. This isn’t you, Em, please. Help them, and things can go back to the way they were, help them and you can come home.”

The anger on Merlin’s face had only grown as she spoke, and each individual hidden in the bushes had to make a concerted effort to stop themselves from bolting. None of them had felt terror like it, and the fact that it was Merlin they were all so scared of... well, it didn’t help.

Lightening streaks across the sky and wind howls violently through the forest, calming only when Merlin shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, straightening his back and smirking slightly before he replies, still not turning around to face his sister:

“You’re right. I loved humanity, I was desperate to see them succeed. And then they butchered me. I gave them this universe to frolic in, and in return they call me a monster, a beast, they call me evil, they make nightmares out of me. I still listen to every little prayer, and do you know what I hear? I hear my people, my wonderful little creations, my creatures of magic, begging for mercy, begging for the pain to stop. The humanity I so used to love turned on them, began to burn them, out of spite and fear and hatred. I will not show them any more grace than they have showed me, I will give them exactly what they deserve, and that blonde idiot is at the top of my list of people who have to fucking pay. I won’t destroy him entirely, because ultimately I want my creatures to stop suffering, but I will break him. I will rip him apart piece by piece for what he has done to me.-”

The absolute fury in Merlin’s words, the hatred, translates to thunder in the sky and agony in Arthur’s chest. The King can barely breathe, muffling the sobs tearing from his mouth with both hands, both terrified of being discovered, and desperate to... to let Merlin punish him for the pain he has caused.

Leon settles a shaking hand on his shoulder, but Arthur doesn’t look his way, his blurry gaze focused on Merlin, now finally turning back to his sister:

“-You know, I’m this close to getting that big blonde idiot to fall in love with me. How pathetic is that?? All it took was a few touches here, a few lingering stares there, saving his life occasionally. The man is so pathetically starved for attention I imagine he’d fall for anyone who showed him the barest amount of affection. That is how I will break him.-”

The only thing stopping Arthur from sobbing aloud is Leon collapsing behind him, pulling the young King back into his chest and wrapping a tight arm around his torso, one hand clamped over his mouth as he mutters desperate reassurances into his ear. Morgana pulls Gwen close in a similar way when the servant’s cries grow harsher, her brother burying his face in her shoulder.

Lancelot barely notices Gwaine gripping his arm hard enough to leave bruises for weeks, or Percival pushing his forehead into Lance’s shoulder blade. All he can do is sit and stare at the ground, his breathing slow but shaky, tears streaming silently down his face as he rethinks everything he’s ever known.

Mordred sits on his own, rocking back and forth rhythmically as he tightens the clutch he has around his knees. Tears drip from his young cheeks, poisoning the ground beneath him as he struggles to consider his faith. His faith in magic, in Emrys, who was meant to be balanced and beautiful and giving. Emrys, who he now knew was twisted and angry and desperate for revenge.

All of their hearts are splitting, cracking down the middle.

“-It won’t be physical pain, no, that’ll be down to the Druid boy. He doesn’t want to kill Arthur now, but he will, one day, when I give him one final push. He’ll fall so far into the darkness there’ll be nothing of him left to save, and when he plunges his sword into The Pendragon’s chest, I’ll sit back and watch with a smile on my face, and Arthur will realise that the man he loves, the man who claimed to love him in return, hated him all along. Tricked him. I will watch the life drain from his eyes, and he will spend his last few moments on this world in every kind of agony imaginable, lost in the knowledge that I wanted him to suffer, that he is being punished for his sins.”

Ava shakes her head, silver tears dripping from her emerald eyes as she stares at the floor:

“Are Sir Mordred and the Lady Morgana not your creatures? Do you not wish to save at least them?”

Merlin chuckles darkly:

“I had faith in them once, but they made their decisions. They sided with a Pendragon over me. Mother may be fond of her precious Once and Future King, but to be fair, she’s fond of anything with a pulse, and I, for one, can not wait until she’s not quite so fond of him anymore.”

Ava gulps, taking a desperate step towards her amused brother, but before she can say anything, before she can make one last plea for mercy on humanity’s behalf, Merlin tilts his head, smirking dangerously:

“Do you think they’re scared?”

She halts in her tracks, blinking in confusion, and Merlin’s smile grows into a chuckle as he gestures behind him:

“The King and all his little friends, hidden in the bushes. Do you think they’re scared?”

The gang barely have time to look up in shock before their bodies are moving, out of their control. They stand rigidly and walk single-file out from their hiding place, coming to stand in a line at the side of the clearing. Merlin hasn’t even looked at them, but his hand floats in the air, a sickly looking yellow mist swirling around his fingers as he tilts his head at his sister, staring in horror at The King, the knights, the Lady, and the servant.

Merlin drops his hand and they all fall to their knees, not even bothering to be brave as they sob. The angry God finally turns, and the serene smile on his face is chilling as he walks towards them, coming to stand in front of Lance and Mordred first. The two of them are the calmest, though calm in the way that they don’t really look... present. They stare blankly ahead, breathing shallow and tears still falling as Merlin crouches in front of them, gripping a chin in each hand and shaking their heads roughly. His voice comes out a whisper, the frown on his face looking more disappointed than anything:

“So much faith, so much trust. It’s a little pitiful, if I’m being honest.”

They don’t react to his words and he smirks before letting them go and standing, moving on to Elyan and Gwen, gripping the knight’s shoulder and saying with mocking sympathy in his voice:

“You were right, by the way,-”

He glances at a fully sobbing Gwen with disgust:

“-she’ll never forgive you, but she’ll never tell you that. You’ll just spend the rest of your life wondering why your relationship was never the same.”

Next, he shuffles over to Gwaine, not even bothering to see the siblings’ reactions as he passes Leon and Percival with a look of disinterest on his face. He leans down in front of the knight, running a soft hand through his hair, waiting for the man to relax slightly before gripping his hair harshly and yanking back, so he has to look up at him. Merlin gives him a blindingly cruel smile:

“You're grateful that Percival is just as in love with you as you are with him, but don’t think yourself too lucky. You’re a hypocrite and a drunk, and my dear old Percy has too much self respect to put himself through that. I’d go for a good tumble in the hay and give up while you’re ahead.”

Once again, he moves back, his sister having to look away in her grief, her empathy drowning her. The God comes to stand in front of Morgana, who is desperately trying to look brave but failing miserably:

“And you. You’re meant to be The Darkness, but I couldn’t very well have you outdo me, could I? Try your hardest, I’ll still be the end of you, and I wait with baited breath for the day you fall, and the day soon after that, when I get to kill you.”

She break down in tears again at that, horrified with the idea that she might one day be on the same end of morality and cruelty as this monster in front of her.

Merlin smirks before rolling his eyes and finally coming to stand in front of Arthur. The King calms his breathing just enough to look up at a smirking Merlin, his voice cracking and barely-there as he mutters:

“Please... Merlin, please...”

The smirk drops from Merlin’s face as he brings his hand up, the sickly yellow mist back again. Arthur rises from the floor, hands clutching at his throat as the air is drawn from his lungs. Merlin steps closer to his with a snarl, his free hand gripping Arthur’s chin like a vice, though his voice eerily calm as he murmurs:

“You. You and Uther were so desperate for a scape-goat, for a villain, for a monster. And you picked magic, you picked me. So stop being so fucking pathetic, I’m just playing the part you gave me to perfection. You picked the premise, I’m writing the ending.”

Ava finally speaks up, her voice loud, despite the waver:

“Brother please, this is... this is beyond cruelty, please just stop.”

Arthur is dropped, and The King can barely find it in himself to choke for air as Merlin turns back to his sister, the amused smirk back on his face:

“Why? None of them are going to remember in the morning anyway. I’ve had my fun, this has been cathartic, but I can’t have them ruining my plans. So run along now sister, tell Mother that her precious task is being completed, I’m just taking the scenic route.”

She shakes her head in defeat, staring at the floor. She lifts her head, opening her mouth to make one last attempt, but she closes it, realising that there’s nothing she could possibly say to persuade him to suddenly have mercy, mercy that no one had ever shown him. She gulps, letting out a deep breath before shaking her head again and turning around, walking back into the trees, the way she came.

The God looks back to his puppets, shivering in time with their knotted strings, smirking once more before he clicks his fingers and everything goes dark.

Arthur wakes the next morning feeling oddly refreshed and surprisingly unannoyed at his idiot manservant’s lateness. He rolls his eyes at the bright sunshine glaring through his curtains, the sun certainly a lot higher in the sky than it should be at the time The King wakes, but oh well. Merlin has been chipper lately, and the warmth that Arthur feels in his chest at the younger man’s happiness makes him more likely to forgive him his tardiness.

As if thinking of him had summoned him (wishful thinking on Arthur’s part), Merlin bursts through the doors, not bothering to knock as per usual, a breakfast-laden tray in his arms and a cheeky grin on his face. Arthur rolls his eyes again, chucking a pillow at Merlin half-heartedly as he grumbles, also half-heartedly:

“You’re late.”

Merlin chuckles, setting the tray down on the table before jogging endearingly over to Arthur’s bedside, grabbing his hand and pulling him to stand upright:

“Something tells me you don’t mind all that much, Your Pratness.”

Arthur huffs, but only to stop himself from smiling, and resolutely ignores the way Merlin’s hand is still in his. The servant squeezes his palm softly, and Arthur gulps, pulling away and walking towards his meal, hoping the food would squash the butterflies in his stomach.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, smiling to himself softly at a whole range of things: the good night’s rest he’d had, the bright sunshine, Merlin’s good mood, the sensation of Merlin’s hand in his own, Merlin’s dazzling smile, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin...

Merlin stares at his back as he goes, noting with a dangerously satisfied smirk the red blush of his ears.

The scenic route indeed.

THE END!!

Oops I made myself sad. Sorry to say but I hope this makes you sad too.

This was SUPER fun to write and I’m so glad I decided to do two versions😅

Link to the Good!Merlin version (much MUCH fluffier, I promise) at the top!!

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blush-and-books · 4 years ago

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always you-shaped thoughts inside my head

so, we found wonderland, the amazing fanfic by @pink-flame ended this week. as a result of my deep and sorrowful mourning, i wrote a fanfic for a fucking fanfic. yes, everyone, we have reached that point. so if you’re one of the unfortunate souls who hasn’t read it then you can start here and do not read this if you don’t want spoilers babes!!!!

anyways, i don’t want to talk about how much i cried when i wrote this. moving on. title from find u again by mark ronson ft. camila cabello and once again THANK YOU @pink-flame FOR THIS WORK, I LOVED IT, I LOVE YOU, ENJOY

A/N: the first part of this is a reimagining of a scene from the story, and the second part is more of a deleted scene. grab tissues if you’re one who cries easily. also tagging @bluefirewrites because i kept texting you while writing this

Julie doesn’t know in what timeline she thought that going to the bookstore would be a good idea.

Even with her back flat against the wall and Luke’s book clutched identically between her hands and the palms of every other eager fan in the room, she felt like she was too close. Like this was a mistake.

She was the one who insisted they don’t look for each other.

But here they were. Him, with a poem that crossed time with the silent, lost plea for her to come back to him; her, who chose to answer the call even if she knew she shouldn’t have. Julie should have realized that she couldn’t avoid him forever. Their paths were meant to cross in every universe.

When he takes the stage, she doesn’t shatter. Yet.

People are swamped beside her and Flynn on all sides, and she still feels like it’s just the two of them. Once he’s in her line of sight, it’s only him in the room, only him that exists.

In a world where she’s jumped to and from across time, Luke may be the most real thing she’s ever known.

The words he says as he reads and answers questions hit her ears as just a series of tones and syllables that are achingly familiar. He’s laughing through one of the book’s anecdotes and suddenly she’s back in the arcade, laughing with him at the pinball machine. He’s talking about the rush of playing their first sold-out show, and she’s back in the greenroom as he heatedly kisses her up against a wall after she spent so much time fighting for him to love her again.

He’s reading about his parents, and she’s back on that pull-out couch that was only comfy when he was in it; listening to him whisper about their fragmented relationship.

But then a 20-year-old pokes him about the poem. And he says he loves her -- well, not explicitly, but he says it’s about love -- and the other shoe drops.

Tears inundate her eyes.

“I have to go,” her voice shakes as a sob threatens to rip through her words. Flynn offers to join, but Julie needs fresh air and to be alone and to just let her tears fall onto the asphalt of an alleyway without feeling the need to explain herself. She will always be alone in these emotions, in this heartbreak, and that’s okay -- she just doesn’t want anyone to act like they get it.

So she passes her book to Flynn, urges her to get it signed, and flees out the side door.

Right before she’s out, the 20-year-old presses on about Find Me: “Well, what if they came to you now? What if they found you? Wouldn’t you be happy to see them?”

The exit slams shut behind her and she doesn’t get to hear his answer.

“Well, what if they came to you now? What if they found you? Wouldn’t you be happy to see them?”

Flynn watches intently as Luke’s eyes darken. The book feels heavy in her hands, and she feels like she is suddenly intruding on an intimate moment between Luke and Julie -- even with Julie gone.

She didn’t always understand what happened with her best friend. But this was clearly a mind, body and soul situation.

Luke has to clear his throat and blink rapidly before answering. “God, sorry, that one caught me a little!” The audience chuckles. “No one’s asked me that so far on this tour. That’s a good question. I probably think about it more than I should, but… I mean, first of all, they wouldn’t come and find me. I know them well enough to know that Find Me just… Went out into the universe with no expectation of a response. But if they decided too, I… I’d wanna make sure they were happy. And I’d probably thank them one more time for everything they did when I was younger. I would probably be in shock, honestly. I haven’t seen them in a long time.”

Flynn is wiping her nose with a stray tissue from her purse before she can even register that she’s started crying.

The random people in the back row with her send her strange looks, wondering why she’s getting so emotional, but hearing Luke talk about her best friend like that…

“Do you still love them?”

God, this person won’t give him a break!

The rockstar visibly tenses up, and the easy grin plastered on his face breaks. That’s when his manager hustles onstage and announces that they are going to start the signing; and everyone needs to start lining up.

Flynn has to fight to get farther up in line, but it’s worth it when she reaches him.

“Hi,” he smiles, “who should I make it out to?”

The word makes her tongue feel like lead. “Julie.”

His head snaps up, and he’s fully looking at her for the first time. There are a thousand Julie’s in the world, but he knows it’s his.

“I’m her best friend,” Flynn continues, shifting her teary eyes down to her converse because fuck Julie wasn’t kidding when she said his eyes were intense sometimes.

“Flynn.”

“Oh... She told you-”

“Where is she? Is she here?”

She’s not even looking at him, but he sounds so desperate, and the water in her eyes swells as she glances at the exit off to her side. “Not right now. But she wanted me to get this signed for her.”

Luke’s Sharpie doesn’t move across the inside cover. In fact, he’s frozen; staring off in the distance with what Flynn is sure must be a whirlwind of emotion that he didn’t ask for. Flynn isn’t sure how to handle it -- they’re in public, and she’s minorly concerned she just sent him spiraling, and they don’t even know each other -- but she feels the need to relay a message since he’ll never get to hear it from Julie himself.

“She…” Luke looks back up at her; eyes boring into hers in a way that could tug the truth out of anybody. As she blinks, an enthusiastic tear drops onto her cheek, and she instantly lifts her index finger under her eye to catch anything else. “Fuck, my eyeliner. Sorry. Anyways-”

The words get caught in her throat again, so she has to take another deep breath. Helping star-crossed lovers communicate when they are almost thirty years apart is more emotionally taxing than she anticipated.

“She’s really proud of you,” Flynn finally manages with a voice squeakier and higher than she ever wants to hear it again. Another tear falls from her other eye. “She loves y- your music, and hopes that you have everything you wanted and she’s so proud of you for everything you’ve built.”

At this point, the crumpled tissue in her hand has been helping her dry her eyes because standing in front of Luke Patterson and trying to tell him that the love of his life still cares -- still watches from afar, still wants the world for him -- is making her realize the emotional turmoil that Julie must have been feeling all this time.

How did she do it?

In front of her, Luke is rubbing his hands over his face and audibly takes a deep, sniffly breath in. Turning to the same woman who got onstage to transition the event before, he informs her: “I need to get some air.”

“Luke, where are you-”

But he’s already forcefully pushing himself back in his chair, grasping the book off of the signing table, and darting out the same exit that Julie stormed through ten minutes ago.

When the manager turns to look at Flynn -- she bolts away and towards the front entrance. If Julie and Luke are about to meet in that alleyway, she doesn’t want to intrude. Even if she already fucked up both of their plans to never see each other again.

Julie is still hyperventilating and sobbing in the alleyway when the emergency exit loudly flings open against the wall of the bookstore. Her arms are wrapped tightly around herself with a childish prayer to have Teddy Luke in her arms, because at least then there would be a little piece of him to stay with her when the rest of him is gone.

She’s expecting Flynn, or an employee on their smoke break, but not-

“Luke.”

“Julie.”

A whimper leaves her lips at hearing him say her name for the first time in so long. His own eyes are glassy, and even though he’s so much older his eyes are still the same. He’s still her Luke, and that’s such a dangerous idea to touch in this timeline but she can’t let it go.

“I’m so sorry,” she wails, trying to avoid looking at his heartbroken expression for too long. “I know, I said we can’t do this, I just-”

“Julie.”

“Did you want me to find you?”

Air puffs from his mouth in a harsh sigh as he takes a few steps closer to her; incredulously focused on the fact that she’s there, in front of him, real. “I- Of course, of course I did, Julie. I just didn’t think you’d come. But I wanted you to know I was looking.”

Her eyelids fall shut. More tears are pushed out, and she doesn’t know if she’s crying or laughing because of course Luke would look even when she told him not to. He respected her, and he respected her wishes, but he could never help himself from pushing the boundaries.

Achingly, she’s always been so grateful for that trait in him.

But now the two of them are awkwardly standing only a few feet away, and the urge to just feel him, assure that he’s solid in front of her is becoming all too real.

Gravel rolls under the soles of her shoes. “I loved the book,” she confesses. “All of the stories. I mean, I’m sorry about the- About your splits-”

“I shouldn’t have even tried with them-”

“But everything else, just…”

How does she say it?

“When- Back when, in the other timeline, and you guys were ghosts… Those stories were the kind of thing you had always wanted. You were so determined to get it, and-” She sniffles. “I’m so glad you got it.”

His lips turn downward. It’s a flash of the familiarly frustrated Luke who is trying to make a tough decision, but in this case, she doesn’t know what that decision is. All she sees is the wince at her saying it was what he wanted, and how happy she was that he got it, and-

A conceited part of her contemplates if he’s about to correct her, tell her that life hasn’t been great, say that he would have rather had it differently; but he doesn’t want her to think her sacrifice was for nothing.

Oh, God, please say he’s happy. She doesn’t think she could handle anything less.

“It’s thanks to you,” he responds instead, gulping down any more that threatens to come up. “You saved me.” Beat. “Are- Are you happy? Is everything in this timeline okay?”

Well, in her head, not exactly. Of course she still had her dad and brother and Flynn, but Sunset Curve never stayed together, she erased Carrie’s entire existence, and everything felt just a little tilted on its axis. Julie felt like a stranger in a world of her own creation.

She yearned for the days back in Wonderland where everyone belonged. They were a little scarred and a little broken, but they were home. Her house from the original 2020 timeline was her home. Luke was her home, and he was right in front of her; the only security blanket she has right now.

Once again, she finds herself bursting into tears and wanting so badly to reach out to him, to give him a hug and tell him she wishes that she stayed in bed in Wonderland with him forever. She wants to jump back down the black hole and go back to 1995 when things made more sense than they did now and Luke could be hers again; and not a distant love that could never materialize in the present.

Julie, miraculously, holds herself back. But watching Luke’s hands flinch at the sight of her crying doesn’t make things easier.

“Please don’t cry.” His voice is a whisper but the words hit with a force that almost buckles her knees. “Julie, please, take a deep breath.”

She takes in a breath that makes her lungs expand into her ribs. “I’m happy,” she lies through her teeth as she breathes out slowly. “I’m happy. We’re happy.”

“Good.”

Tears are running down his face. She recalls a time where it was easy for her to hold his face and swipe under his eyes with her thumbs until there were no more tears for her to kiss away.

In unison, they clear their throats and shift their eyes. The air changes; they know they’re in a public place again, and Luke is an adult musician, and he’s with a fan. He holds his hand up, the one that has the book, and shakes it a little back and forth.

“Flynn said you wanted this signed?”

A watery smile blooms on her face in spite of the bitter moment. “Yeah,” she nods. “Thought it could be another memento.”

To put emphasis on the idea, she lifts up onto her tiptoes and tilts her voice up. Make it a more positive moment. Don’t dwell. Stop crying.

You can’t change things now.

Luke pops the cap off with his teeth, and toys around with it in his mouth like it’s one of his marked-up guitar picks as he holds the book open and scribbles something (probably illegible) on the inside of the front cover.

Then, once he’s done there, he starts flipping the pages around like he knows where every detail of the story is and marks up certain pages with… Something. She doesn’t know. After he’s made his wanted notes, he writes something out on the last page before firmly shutting it and returning it to her possession.

“Thank you,” she smiles simply as she pulls the book from his hands and carefully assures that their hands don’t overlap. If she touches him, she falls apart.

Luke hums in response.

Stupidly, Julie decides that moment to open up the book and see what he wrote while he’s standing right in front of her. But she isn’t thinking about him, or looking at him -- she’s looking at the inside cover.

We were always meant to find each other. Don’t forget that - please.

Yours,

Luke

When a tear drops on the page, she quickly turns farther into the book because she doesn’t want her feelings to ruin his beautiful, even if messy, words. These words are all she’ll have after today.

The few pages in the book that he made notes on were just little things that she never knew she needed to hear.

The chapter about his first sold out stadium show? Thought of you the whole time

When he heard he was nominated for a Grammy? Wanted to call you first

The night he won his first Grammy? Almost thanked you in my speech

The last page he wrote on was the Acknowledgements page. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t that long. Luke kept a core circle of people and that was that. But below that short list, in bold, black letters:

To Julie Molina, who sacrificed everything so that I could be able to tell these stories. I wish she could have been a part of them.

Her tears slip from her face so clear and quickly that she’s surprised her tear ducts are generating such a mass amount. The words replay in her head, in Luke’s voice, over and over. The affirmation that he wanted her with him all this time.

But she had to go again. This had to be a one-time thing. This hurt too much for her to put either of them through it again, and besides -- now she had closure in his own writing; with her tears notarizing each word.

“It’s time, Julie,” she mutters to herself. “It’s time.”

To say goodbye. Again.

But Luke never answers. It’s dead silent, even though cars should be racing on the road behind them. When she looks up, Luke is frozen to the spot. Everything is, except her.

“Time is a funny thing isn’t it? Just when you think you have a handle on it, it manages to surprise you.”

It’s Willie, but not actually Willie. The one who was giving her the clues and trying to lead her in directions all over 1995; the one who she hasn’t seen in a really, really long time. For a moment, she doesn’t believe it.

But he tells her that fate is in her hands. This is her choice. And despite the doubt that lingers uneasily in her chest, she can’t help but be desperate for this to be real.

“Why not you? Who better than Julie Molina? Teenage girl with a good heart and music in her soul. Braver than most. Why not you?”

Julie jumped across time to save her boys, and now she is willing to make the trip again if it means there’s a chance of saving them all.

But there’s one more thing she wants to do. Just before everything either is perfect again or goes to complete shit.

Spinning away from Willie, she takes a second glance at Luke’s still frame and softens her face into a smile. He had been looking down at her while she was reading his notes with tears in his eyes and a sad grin on his face.

No one is looking or judging anymore -- so she stands on her toes and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him close even if he can’t hug her back. She’s been dying to do this since she saw him in the bookstore.

And it feels like coming home.

“I’ll find you again,” she whispers into his ear that probably isn’t listening. “I promise.”

And without any more hesitation, she turns back to Willie with her chin up and shoulders back.

“What do I have to do?”

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

The book never finds its way back to her the way that the bear does or the way that the ring does.

But that’s okay, because the bookstore does, and she’s with Luke when she registers that they are walking by the bookstore on their way to meet everyone at one of their favorite diners.

By now, Luke had been told everything. She felt herself starting to fall in love with this third Luke just as she had all the others, but could never tell if he was falling back in love with her. Julie found herself -- while this timeline was infinitely better than the old one -- pining for Luke to come back to her and love her like he did in two other lifetimes.

Their hands were brushing each other’s on the sidewalk when the bookstore sign met her eyes.

“Jules?”

Her feet are glued to the cement; her eyes are glued to the alleyway. Luke approaches behind her and lays a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

“Jules, are you- Is everything okay?”

“Can we take a detour, really quick?”

And suddenly, he’s letting her lace her fingers through his and pull him through traffic -- no crosswalk in sight -- across the street to stand in front of a bookstore that has zero meaning to him whatsoever. Julie selfishly revels in his calluses rubbing her knuckles and doesn’t make a move to let go unless he will.

He doesn’t. At least, until they hit the alleyway.

“Julie, what is this place? Why are we out here? Is this… Did I like it here, or something?”

They never spoke much about the Luke’s of other timelines. Julie quickly caught onto the fact that he got uncomfortable when she talked about guys with his name and face that he knew virtually nothing about even though he felt pressured to know everything.

But he dealt with her when she had moments like these. She never thanked him properly for it.

“It wasn’t like that,” she shakes her head, “we were here in the other 2020. The one where you were older, and this huge Grammy-winning solo musician. The one that was a result of what I did in 1995.”

The exit door is still rusty on the hinges. The brick is the same shade of red, and-

“Okay… And? What did you guys do?”

His use of third person is a clear message. “Him and I had made this promise in ‘95 that we wouldn't find each other, right?” “Because he would be old.”

“Yeah. But he published this book and had a whole signing tour called Find Me, and Flynn told me we should go, and… Basically, I had a mental breakdown at seeing him, and then he came back here and signed the book for me, and we talked, and-”

Her voice cracks. Her eyes feel wet.

Fuck.

Can’t she make it one timeline without sobbing in an alleyway?

A familiar hand rubs up and down her back as she stares, firmly, at the spot where her and Luke were so vividly standing and talking and pining for the other.

“Jules, hey, look at me.”

Because it’s Luke -- because it’s her Luke -- she listens to him, and rotates to face him. The soft fabric of his shirt hits her cheeks as he presses his fingers into the cotton and lifts his hand to wipe the tears from her face in a gesture that tempts her to cry more. Instead, she tries to laugh it off. “God, I really need to stop having meltdowns in alleyways, huh?” He stays quiet; looking at her in a recognizable Luke way that reminds her of all of their loving times in other lives. But she can’t get her hopes up. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like when I talk about it. Sometimes I just-”

“You need to,” he nods. “I get it.”

Her feet are planted identically where they were in alternate-2020. But Luke is in a different spot, because this is a new Luke. One that’s right in front of her, lightly holding her arms; not one that’s a few feet out of reach.

“He told me that we would always find each other.” Her voice is watered down, and quiet, but Luke is close enough to hear it.

“Well, he was right, wasn’t he? We did it. For like, the fourth time, according to you.”

And then, she’s hit with a Luke Patterson smile. She sees it all of the time now but it never gets old because he’s young, and he’s happy, and he’s here.

Her lips turn up to reflect it, and in a shocking turn of events: Luke instigates the hug.

They are nearly best friends, so they’ve hugged before. But this one is different.

His arms fold around her shoulders and tug her close and snug into his chest so that his chin is nearly resting on her hair. This leaves her able to press him close to her with her arms wrapped tightly and lovingly around his waist -- almost, dare she say it, like he was a teddy bear.

“I never said I’m sorry,” he murmurs into her forehead. “Or thank you, for that matter.” “For what?” “I’m sorry you went through so much for me. For us. It still affects you a lot and I’m sorry you have to carry that alone.” His chest rises and falls under her cheek as he takes a deep breath, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of feeling him breathe or hearing his heartbeat. “And thank you for loving us enough to do it. You sacrificed a lot.”

She is too choked up to verbally comment -- but she squeezes him tighter, almost tempting her arms to swish through him.

They don’t.

And Luke continues talking after a moment of a peaceful silence. “It’s kind of cool, though, for me to think about this person I have in the universe. You know? The whole thing with us finding each other. I always have you, no matter where I am. You’ll be out there.”

“Always,” she sighs into his chest, because she can’t help it. It took them a few tries, but here they are: In the same timeline, with full family and friends and lives, in a reciprocated hug.

“Always.” Luke repeats the word, almost feeling it out in his mouth. “Well, thanks for doing it again. Maybe let me do the work next time. You need a break.”

God, this Luke is always so good at making her laugh. Ghost-Luke was, too, but the other Luke’s and her were always swept up in emotionally-taxing situations for her to be laughing like she could when she was with this Luke.

It was almost as if this one had practice. Maybe those other lives were kicking in.

He was her final Luke, hopefully.

As she props her chin up on his chest, she gives him the widest grin she’s worn all day. “I would appreciate that. Just don’t take too long.” Her forehead nuzzles itself into his neck as she settles herself back into his arms; fully content to be wrapped up in him for as long as he will let her stay. “I’ll get worried.”

A soothing hand over her hair is all the confirmation she needs.

“Don’t worry, Boss. I’ll be there.”

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #jukebox #jatp fanfic #juke fanfic #we found wonderland

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ikeromantic · 4 years ago

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Strength

An Ikesen Mitsuhide fanfiction, approx. 2000 words. This scene occurs toward the end of Ch. 12 in the romantic route.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: The Greatest Harm

Mitsuhide found Motonari in gambling house, as expected, but at the promise of violence to come, he was easy to persuade.

“We’re gonna march on tha shogun tonight, huh? ‘Bout time. My gun is gettin’ rusty with all tha waiting!” Motonari walked beside the kitsune warlord, almost bouncing. “I can send my men over to get tha guns and powder in tha mornin’. It’ll take that long ta get there and set a camp. Too bad we can’t just rush tha castle an’ get tha party started tonight!”

It was strange to think the man genuinely enjoyed fighting. For Mitsuhide, battles and killing were a means to an end, but he never sought them out. Still, it was good at least that the pirate was on his side. He’d rather point this avatar of destruction at a target than to be the target.

“Yer awful quiet, fox. Get in a tiff with tha woman?” Mouri chuckled. “Can’t imagine why.”

Mitsuhide gave the pirate a thin, sharp smile. He couldn’t let the man goad him, not tonight. Not with so much on the line. “My little mouse is fine. It is not easy for her to stay here while I go to fight.”

“Huh. Ya sure that’s all?”

The man was too damn perceptive. But they said madmen often were. Mitsuhide chose to ignore the comment.

Kennyo was staying in a widow’s home at the edge of the market. Of course, Mitsuhide was not supposed to know that - but the abbot knew he knew, and his arrival should not overly alarm the demon monk.

He sped them in that direction. The sooner the three were on their way, the less chance to slip and break this fragile alliance. It had to hold until Ashikaga’s head left his body behind. That was what Mitsuhide focused on. Not the last look he’d shared with his little one. He couldn’t think about the tears in her eyes, or the way his heart felt torn in two when he considered leaving her behind.

“What are you doing here, kitsune?” Kennyo’s deep growl came from a shadowed walkway in front of a closed shop.

“Looking for you.”

The abbot stepped out into the moon’s silver glow. His scar was a black crevasse across his face, a crack in the universe through which hell could be seen. His eyes burned with a dark and lightless hate. “You came to betray me?”

“He came ta tell ya we’re leavin’! Time ta make tha shogun pay fer ruinin’ my fun.” Motonari put his hands on his hips and leaned back on his heels. “Ya comin’ er did ya decide ta tuck yer tail and go back ta prayin’?”

Kennyo growled, a low rumbled in his chest like distant thunder. “Demons do not pray, nor do good men pray for the deaths of others. If it is time, then let us go. In silence.”

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “Do you need time to pack?”

“I have all my worldly possessions on me now. And what I need most is always to hand.” He tapped the bottom of his staff, and the dark street rang with the sound.

“Then I will meet you both at the edge of town when the moon touches the mountain tops.” Mitsuhide gave them a nod.

“Goin’ ta smooth things over with tha lady? Ya know if ya need some help, I -”

“Will be silent because your voice grates my nerves as surely as a stone in my sandal.” Kennyo interrupted Mouri with a grimace.

Mitsuhide gave the monk a look of gratitude before hurrying off to the inn.

His little one was gathering the last of his things when he arrived. And seemed in much better spirits. She even smiled as he came in, though there was still an edge of sadness to it. “Everything is packed and ready to go.”

“Good. Mouri will be sending people for the guns tomorrow. Be ready.”

“I will.”

There were a thousand things he wanted to say in that moment. Promises he couldn’t keep. Words of love that would only make it hurt more to be apart. Mitsuhide was good at speaking - when he was playing a role. When it was the truth of his own heart, he found it hard to put the feelings into words. He was no poet. Not like Yoshimoto.

His eyes went to the floor, where the letter had fallen. It wasn’t there anymore, but he spotted the creased paper soon enough. Sitting on the desk, open. Was that the reason for her mood? Had Yoshimoto’s poetries cheered her where he could only seem to make her cry?

In silence, he picked up his things and together, they went to saddle the horses. They, at least, seemed happy to finally be traveling somewhere. Being cooped up in the stables was hard on war-trained mounts.

“Can I come with you? As far as the meeting point?”

Mitsuhide nodded. “Of course.” He couldn’t help the bitter twist to his smile. “I wouldn’t deny you that.”

Neither of them said much on the ride through town. The air felt heavy, and it seemed wrong to push sound out into that darkness. Though unspoken words churned in his chest.

The chatelaine looked lost in thought as she rode. Her posture in the saddle, relaxed. Her eyes forward, looking at some distant point and trusting her mount to navigate the empty streets. It made Mitsuhide proud to see how far she’d come. How much she learned. He held back the compliment though, worried what other words would escape with it, should he speak.

Soon enough, they passed the city gates. The last of the dim torchlight fell behind them, and ahead lay only rolling fields and an endless expanse of stars. Mitsuhide felt lost in it. He had messed this up, as he’d known he would. Giving his love only tears. If Yoshimoto could make her smile with only words on a paper . . . perhaps . . .

The dark figures of Motonari and Kennyo took shape in the darkness ahead. Their horses stood in the field nearby, heads down and grazing. Mitsuhide stopped as they got close enough to make out their allies’ faces. He turned to his little one, feeling brittle like rusted iron. “This is as far as you may come. Turn your horse and go back to the inn.”

Not the parting words of a lover but right now he couldn’t trust himself to be himself. He needed this mask. The kitsune warlord, heartless and cold. It would hold him together. It had to.

“I will.”

Motonari scoffed. “Is that all yer gonna say? Ya know, in tha west they kiss to say goodbye. Ya should try it! Maybe slip her some tongue -”

“Keep your vulgar thoughts to yourself,” Kennyo rumbled. “Your bellowing is disturbing the horses.” He threw the pirate an icy glare. Without looking away from Mouri, he said, “Mitsuhide - we will go on ahead. Do not keep us waiting.” Then he grabbed Mouri’s arm and pulled him toward their mounts.

Mitsuhide didn’t know if he should be grateful or resentful of the courtesy. Now he was alone with his love, and his heart trembled near to shattering. Conflicting emotions tore at him. Jealousy and worry, love, anxiety, doubt . . . he couldn’t let any of it show.

His little one dismounted, beckoning for him to follow. Reluctantly, he did.

Her face was angelic in the starlight. Like a spirit. The silver moon shone in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Mitsuhide, I want you to have this.”

It was hard to look away from her beauty to see what she held. When he did, his eyes widened. “This -!” The bellflower hairpin. He felt stunned, frozen in place. What did this mean? Why? His gaze lifted to meet hers.

She reached for him with her empty hand and touched his cheek. “This is my prayer for victory. Kyubei told me that’s what it symbolizes.” She pressed it into his hand. “I want you to keep it with you while we are apart. Don’t lose it though! It’s my only precious bellflower.”

Her smile was radiant.

“You are a wonder.” Mitsuhide could not stop a tear escaping his eyes, but she wiped it away with her thumb before it could fall. “I thought . . . I thought you would wish me goodbye in tears. Or -” Or tell him she’d had enough of this life, that the shadows around him were more than she could take.

His little mouse nodded. “I might have but I came to a few decisions about myself. Most importantly, that I’m tough enough to be by your side no matter what.”

He blinked. “You . . . decided that as you packed? And . . . read that letter?”

“Yep.” She laughed softly. “It’s funny, actually. I was beginning to doubt myself. I am not the kind of strong you are. I am not a warrior. But I am strong like me - you taught me that. To trust myself and my ideals.”

Her eyes were so warm, and Mitsuhide felt himself leaning into her touch.

“That letter from Yoshimoto reminded me of the things I’ve done. And all the lessons you taught me so that I could survive in this world. We make each other stronger.”

Mitsuhide put his arms around her, still holding the bellflower hairpin tightly. “All of that, you decided in such a short time, hm?”

She laughed again and nuzzled his chest. “It was already inside me, I’d just forgotten how to use it. And now I can access that strength when I need to.”

He stroked her hair, enjoying the closeness. His heartbeat was thundering in his chest, but the anxiety was fading. Leaving behind it only his love for her and the promise of a life together. How had he lost sight of that, even for a moment?

“I want you to remember your strength too. You don’t need to burn yourself out to protect me. Use your strength to fight your hardest. I will be here, waiting for you. Safe.”

Mitsuhide whispered her name into the night, full of his love for her. His heart in each syllable.

“Make sure you come back to me, Mitsuhide.”

His lips curled up in a genuine smile. “You surprised me again, little one.” He pulled away enough to see her expression. “Instead of tears, my weepy little mouse wishes me good fortune. With a smile like the sun.”

“Hey! Did you call me weepy?” Her laughter rang out, fierce and full of joy. “I’ll make you weep for that!”

“Mmm, and it is that fiery tongue and heart that never breaks that made me fall in love with you. Thank you for reminding me.” He tucked the bellflower beneath his armor to keep it safe. Then lifted her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her wrist, feeling the beat of her heart through her warm skin. It matched the rhythm of his own.

She shivered at the touch and her cheeks pinked. A reaction he loved to see. It made him wish for homecoming sooner rather than later.

“You’ve shown me resolve, beloved. And as your future husband, I must show you I can do at least as much. I will return to you.”

His little one studied his face for a moment, her eyes bright. “I love you.”

“You should save those words for my return.” He felt his grin widen but he couldn’t help himself. “Because when I do, I will give you cause to say them so much that you grow tired of repeating yourself.”

He pulled her close once more, wanting to feel her warmth a little longer. Only knowing that Kennyo and Motonari stood a little ways off stopped him from doing more than holding her. “I promise you,” he said softly, his breath tickling her ear, “when I return, I will tease you mercilessly. I will tease you until all you can think of is my touch. And I still won’t stop . . .”

She took a deep, trembling breath. “I am looking forward to it. And you know . . . you aren’t the only one that can tease!” Then she stepped back. “I should let you leave. Good luck, Mitsuhide.”

His smile held his gratitude and love. With one last wave, he watched her mount her horse and turn back for the city gates.

“That’s one wide grin yer wearin’” Motonari chuckled as he approached. “Ya slipped her some -”

Kennyo’s growl cut him off before he could finish. “Speed and silence.”

“Yes, let’s not keep the shogun waiting,” Mitsuhide agreed. He should have been tired, but he felt full of vigor. This would not be easy - but he knew they could do it.

The three men mounted and rode into the night.

Next: Siege

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikemen mitsuhide #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #light angst

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Ginger Snap, Chapter 6

A/N Well, here it is. The last chapter of Ginger Snap. As an unplanned fic inspired by a vanity license plate, I’m happy with how it turned out. There will be a short epilogue posted in the next week or so. In the meantime, thank you so much for coming on this unexpected ride with me! This chapter’s themed title is Fire in the Belly.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

The next five months were some of the most difficult of my life.

After our talk, Frank and I agreed that it would be best that we parted ways. The Southside flat was close to the university, plus I’d never truly felt at home there, so it made sense for him to keep it. Fortunately, we’d never combined our savings and I still had money tucked away from my time as a medical resident in Boston.

Geillis wanted me to move into her sprawling Murrayfield home, at least temporarily, but I knew that I needed a place of my own. To stand on my own two feet, as it were. Which was how I found myself moving my few belongings into a modest Morningside walk-up as the rest of Edinburgh celebrated Hogmanay with fireworks and drunken revelry.

I scheduled the written component of my medical licensing exam for February. This was likely foolhardy, but I’d already wasted enough time. As a result, almost every waking hour was dedicated to studying. The flat remained an empty box whose naked beige walls bore witness to my rudimentary existence.

Geillis called regularly, reminding me to eat and to occasionally step outside for a breath of fresh air. Returning up the high street from one of our weekly coffee dates, a bright flash in a shop window caught my eye.

I stopped and stared as the afternoon sun lit the vase like a shard of stained glass. It was a profound shade of blue: the colour of a field of indigo, of the night sky in a Byzantine icon, of Jamie’s eyes when he laughed. It sat on my windowsill, filled with the season’s first daffodils, as I pored over practice exams.

***

“Geillis, I passed! I fucking passed!” An elderly woman seated across from me on the bus muttered under her breath about vulgar Sassenachs, but I was too elated to care.

“Of course ye did, ye brilliant disaster. Now I can brag tae the neighbours I have my own personal physician.”

“Not so fast, Duncan. I still need to pass the clinical exam, and that’s no small thing.” My gut twisted just thinking about it, but unlike the written exam, there was little I could do to prepare. Either I knew how to perform as a doctor or I did not. The long months since I’d last treated a patient loomed like a large shadow over that question.

“Och, yer bum’s oot the window Claire,” my friend dismissed blithely. “Ye’re gonna do great. When do ye head down tae yer homeland, then?”

“May first.” The practical examination took place in Manchester and needed to be scheduled three months in advance.

“Sounds like ye’ve got some time on yer hands. Whate’er are ye going tae do with yerself?” Geillis asked in a singsong voice.

Fortunately for me, spring was Edinburgh’s most pleasant season. Its many gardens and laneways erupted in carpets of buds and blooms. The air smelled fresh and green, like biting into a tart apple. I took long walks and fell in love with the city I now called home. There were secondhand bookstores to explore and a weekly craft market where I gradually amassed an assortment of items that made my flat feel like a home. With each passing day, my existence felt more and more like a life; one I defined for myself.

I also started to explore my options for employment, hoping for a job offer from one of the city’s hospitals that was conditional upon my successful completion of the licensing process. It was to that end that I found myself walking down the corridor of The Royal Edinburgh hospital after what I hoped had been a rather successful interview with the deputy director of surgery.

“Claire?”

I recognized her voice immediately. Before turning around I closed my eyes and sent out a fervent appeal to the universe.

“Jenny, hi. How are you?”

She looked just the same, her straight black hair such a contrast to her brother. Next to her stood a man, but not the man I had conjured the moment I heard her voice. I was unclear whether that meant my prayer had been answered or not. Seeing my gaze stray, Jenny jumped to introductions.

“This is my husband, Ian. We’re here fer treatment on his leg.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Jes a fitting fer a new prosthetic. Jenny keeps beatin’ me o’er the head with the old one, ye see.” I laughed, instantly liking his easy-going manner, so in contrast with Jenny’s intensity.

“Ye must be the Claire I hear sae much about,” he went on, and I wondered what had been said about me in the Fraser household.

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

Ian smiled warmly. “Only good things, I promise ye.”

“What brings ye tae the hospital, Claire?” Jenny interjected.

I explained how I was in the process of qualifying to practice medicine in Scotland, provided I could pass my exams. Jenny and Ian were both delighted, congratulating me as though I’d already accomplished my goal. As we spoke about Wee Jamie’s latest exploits and the ongoing growth of Ginger Snap, I couldn’t help notice that Jenny was staring at my hands. At my left hand in particular. Finally, I couldn’t resist temptation any longer.

“And, how is Jamie doing?” I tried to sound casual, but I was certain my faltering voice betrayed me.

“Very well,” Jenny replied. “Busy, as ye can imagine, but he thrives on chaos.”

I nodded, trying to be satisfied with the news that he was well. It was the most I could hope for, really. Jenny eyed me shrewdly before continuing.

“He’s a good man, my brother. Any lass would be verra lucky tae have him. I’d like tae see him settled, but he refuses tae be rushed. Says the right woman is worth the wait.” She paused before adding, “I reckon ye ken wha’ he means.”

“Yes,” I breathed. “I know exactly what he means.”

***

I took the overnight train from Edinburgh to Manchester. It meant I was likely to arrive at the testing centre deprived of sleep, but I rationalized that most of my residency could be characterized as one long evaluation under similar conditions, and I hadn’t killed anyone yet. Still, as the velvety darkness slipped by outside my window, studded by the lights of passing farms, my doubts got the better of me.

I texted Geillis, looking for moral support. For once she didn’t reply immediately. There was one other name on my laughably short list of contacts. I deliberated for all of a minute, but the late hour and creeping panic made me impulsive.

Hello.

Best to start with something innocuous, rather than the slightly more revealing “I miss you. I think about you every day.” A reply bubble appeared immediately after I hit send. At least I hadn’t woken him up. A small tempest stirred in my gut.

Arsonist. Hello. How are you?

I tried to picture him. Was he at home? Working late? Or, in a scenario that played out far too often in my mind, on a date?

I’m alright. Well, to be honest, I feel like I’m going to puke and cry. Not necessarily in that order.

Och, lass. Do you need me to come over?

Damn it, this man. I had done nothing to deserve his unswerving loyalty but mislead him and then disappear for months on end. And yet here he was, willing to come to my aid on the flimsy pretext of a late night text. Guilt and tenderness warred for possession of my heart.

That may prove a bit difficult, Jamie. I’m on a train to England.

There was a long pause, and then a two letter reply.

Oh.

I realized at once that he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion: that I had left Edinburgh for good. I rushed to correct the error.

I’m taking the second stage of my examination to practice as a NHS doctor tomorrow. It’s all hands-on situations, and the licensing facility is in Manchester.

Arsonist, that’s wonderful news! I’m so proud of you.

I blushed, then leaned my heated cheek against the chilled pane of glass. It had been a rash impulse, but this conversation was exactly what I needed. I wasn’t alone in this. Geillis and Jamie were in my corner.

What has your stomach in a twist, then?

What if I’ve forgotten what to do?! It’s been almost a year since I’ve so much as used a stethoscope, Jamie. The exam is eighteen real-life situations and you’re given eight minutes to respond to each one. Not a second longer. I’m just... what if I fail?

And there it was. The kernel of fear that lived at the heart of everything I did. What if I failed? What if my best wasn’t good enough?

Claire, listen to me. You’re a doctor, just as I am a chef. It wouldn’t matter if I had not set foot in a kitchen in ten years, I would still remember how to cook, and I know that it’s the same for you. I believe it with everything in me.

On some level, I knew that he was right. But it still comforted me tremendously to hear it from someone I trusted.

Alright. That helps. I should let you get to bed. Thank you for talking me off my ledge, Jamie.

Anytime, Arsonist.

As I got ready sign off, another text bubble appeared.

Oh, and Claire? Don’t burn down their wee laboratory, okay? ;-)

I laughed out loud, muting my phone and reclining my seat. Outside, the stars shone brightly, tiny fires in the firmament to guide me on my way.

***

It was a lovely late spring day, and the retractable doors to the fire station were open to the warm breeze. I could hear Angus’ voice as he led a cooking demonstration for a group of young women; a bridal shower by the look of their ridiculous costumes.

“Mind the coriander, lass. Tis a verra powerful aphrodisiac, ken? I willna be held responsible if ye canna resist my considerable charms after ye eat yon soup.”

There was an outburst of giggles as I rounded the corner and entered the reception area. Jenny was on the phone. She halted mid-sentence when she saw me walk in. I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans, trying to stay calm.

“He’s in the storeroom, in the back,” Jenny prompted before I could even offer a greeting. I smiled gratefully, relieved I didn’t have to make small talk. I had only so much courage stored in reserve, and I didn’t want to use it all up before reaching my destination.

The storeroom was long and narrow, lit by a single naked bulb and girded with shelves. Jamie stood with his broad back to the door, his curls absorbing the light like amber. He had a clipboard in one hand, performing some kind of inventory.

“Jes how many lentils dae ye reckon we need, Janet? There’s nine cans of them here already, and ye have us ordering ten more.”

I’d almost forgotten how much I loved his voice, the undulating grit and silk of it. I had to remaster the art of speech before I could reply.

“It’s not Jenny. It’s me. Claire.”

He froze, and if it weren’t for the sudden rapid flow of his breath I would have assumed he hadn’t heard me. My nerves got the better of me and I blurted out, “I like lentils. You should listen to your sister.”

“Claire.” More sigh than word. He slowly turned. It was when our eyes met that I knew nothing had changed for him. It was still there, after all these months. That look that told me I was the map to his journey, the focus to his vision, the reason to his why.

Hopefully he could read that same certainty on my face.

“I passed my exams,” I began. “I’m a doctor again.”

“Ye never stopped bein’ a doctor. This jus’ makes it official.”

“I’m still a disaster in the kitchen,” I continued. “Last week I ruined two saucepans.”

“Tha’s only a tragedy if ye dinna have someone willin�� tae cook fer ye,” he replied with a strange squinting motion I understood was meant to be a wink.

“I’m still learning who I am. How to be true to the person on the inside,” I confessed. This is what had kept me away for so long, worried that I would escape from Frank’s orbit just to be caught up in another. Jamie never once expected my submission, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t offer it out of habit.

“I’ll let ye in on a secret. Sae is everyone else,” he replied.

Without realizing it, we’d both been moving until we were crowded together amongst the dried herbs and canned goods. My hand rested against the solid metronome of his heart. Just one more confession to go.

“I burn for you in a way I’ve never burned for anything before.”

There. It was said. A thousand wings of rapture beat against the cage of my ribs, clamoring to break free. Jamie carefully pushed a loose curl behind my ear before cupping my jaw.

“Wee arsonist. Come, set my life on fire.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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writingtoforgetreality · 4 years ago

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You’re A Winchester? - Part Two (Castiel x Winchester!Reader)

[Supernatural-Masterlist]

Part One

Summary: The case in Wisconsin got complicated. In more ways than one. Cas was not sure what happened to you but you were acting different. He had to find out why. He had to know if he did something wrong.

Words: 4,053

Warnings: language, kidnapping, angst, little bit of fluff?, Sam has the brains, angels are dicks, I feel like this could actually become a miniseries?, Do you want me to continue? I’m not sure…, (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The drive to Wisconsin was slow & exhausting. Throughout the long hours, you did some more research on the case. It looked like an easy one, actually. Almost too easy for your liking. But who were you to bad talk an easy hunt? After all, you were still somewhat new to this business. Though, nobody would realize that. If they did not know, they would believe you had been hunting for your entire life.

“We’re almost there.” Cas broke the silence that had been accompanying the two of you for a while. A look out of the window & you could make out the small town you were rolling in. Almost immediately, a strange feeling washed over you. By the way Cas’ body tensed up, you knew he had a similar impression of this place.

“Cas?” you questioned. No way would this turn out to be an easy case.

“Yes, I know.” he soothed your thoughts a little. Something was off & neither you nor Cas could tell what it was. Not yet, at least. The ’78 Lincoln Continental Mark V came to a halt in the parking lot of an old-fashioned motel. Same old, same old. Back in your universe, you had never had enough money to afford an actual hotel so usually, the cheap version had to do. So, not that much had changed.

The two of you checked into a room, not bothering to get one with two beds since Castiel did not sleep anyway. The motel literally looked like every single other one across the country. Same uncomfortable bed, same ugly wallpaper, same ancient furniture. Moments like this, you missed the bunker an awful lot. Deciding to give your brothers a call, you dialed Sam’s number.

“(Y/N), hey! You already there?” Sam’s voice came through the speaker.

“Yep, it took forever.” sighing out tiredly, you plopped down onto the mattress. “I gotta say, though…something seems a little off.”

“As in…?” he inquired curiously.

“We don’t know yet.” your head was put into your hand. The traveling tired you out & you craved a few hours of rest.

“Okay. And besides that? Everything alright? It’s not…weird, is it?” it almost sounded like he was uncomfortable while asking this question.

“Should it be weird?” your eyebrows furrowed at his use of words.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” you could hear the smirk in his tone. That was when the realization kicked in.

“You’re talking about me being alone with Cas?” looking around, you were glad that the angel was still outside, grabbing your luggage.

“I might be.” Sam mumbled, then his voice got louder again. “Look, all I’m saying is take care & uh, use protection.”

“Oh my God, Sam.” shaking your head frantically, there was another sigh from you. “I’ll call when we’re done here. You’re a horrible brother, by the way.” your body was on fire. Embarrassed that now, even Sam called you out on your crush.

“I love you, too. Bye, (Y/N).” the call ended & you fell back onto the mattress. A second later, the door opened & Cas walked in. At least he missed that talk with Sam. Otherwise it would be painfully awkward between you guys.

In the morning, Cas & you went to investigate a family. They were close to the person that had been mysteriously killed & you hoped to receive a bit more background information from them. The couple seemed nice. Wealthy husband being incredibly happy with his beautiful wife. An apple pie life. Like the one Dean wanted Cas & you to have. Obviously, that would never be the case. Not when you were part of this business. Not when you were a hunter. When they offered, you thanked them for the coffee they brought you. Something that Cas could drink as well. The talk was not necessarily helpful. Nothing you had not already found out yourselves. Still, you acted politely towards them. After all, they had been very hospitable. Before leaving the house, you asked if you could use their bathroom. The man showed you the way. This family was not connected to your case, not in a way that helped you anyway. Which meant that you had to do more research. Yay. Finishing in the bathroom, you were confused when the door did not open. Like it was stuck. Rattling on the door knob a few times, you used your other hand to knock on the door. You had to bring their attention to you. But it seemed like nobody heard you. The bathroom was not that far away from the living room area so it did not make sense to you that they did not hear you in there. The lock clicked & you sighed out in content when the man who had lead you here helped you out a second time today. Your warm, thankful smile faltered when something hard hit your head. Darkness met your body after that.

Heavy eyelids opened slowly. The light blinded you & out of instinct, you squinted to avoid it. After a few more seconds, you adjusted to the light. Looking around, you found yourself inside an unfurnished room. The chair you sat on the only piece. But wait. Your wrists were tied to the armrests. Your legs strapped as well. Tightly. Painfully tight. No matter your efforts, it did not move an inch. How did you get here? Where was Cas? Looked like your assumptions about this family were wrong. Because kidnapping was not part of your plan. And you being trapped here changed your entire view of this case drastically. That strange feeling you had in this town was not for nothing. But who were you up against? No vengeful spirts, no demons, no witches. What else could it be?

“Would you look at that, the princess is awake.” the same man from earlier entered the room, a creepy smile adorning his features. It made you gulp. Your heart quickened its pace. You were skilled when it came to fighting but right now, there was not a lot of room left to move around. Which left you vulnerable.

“Aw, honey. You scared her. Can’t you see the fear in her eyes?” his wife followed, that sweet voice of hers erupting the room.

“(Y/N)…Can I call you (Y/N)?” the only response he got was a deathly glare from you. One, that made him chuckle enthusiastically. “The newest addition to the Winchesters. Leaving her universe behind to go live with her brothers.” he recapped the last months for you as if you had forgotten already. “You shouldn’t even be here.” remarking with sympathetic eyes, he walked closer to you. Kneeling down so you were on one level.

“You see…we wouldn’t care much for you. Another Winchester do deal with? Okay, fine. But there’s one thing we cannot accept.” the woman spoke up again.

“And what would that be?” sarcastically asking, looking between the pair in front of you.

“We can’t have you close to Castiel.” the kneeling man finished. Your expression turned into one of confusion. “Don’t play innocent here, sweetheart. We’re not that stupid.”

“You’re angels.” you concluded after piecing everything together. “That case in Wisconsin. It was a trap so you guys could get to me.”

“100 points for our contestant.” the woman fake cheered.

“You know, there would’ve been easier ways to catch me.”

“True but where would the fun be in that? Besides, we couldn’t have you close to those brothers of yours. Too protective over you for my liking.”

“Okay, Mister. But you do realize that Cas is here somewhere & he’ll try everyth-“

“Ah, I’ll stop you right there.” his finger lifted to shut you up. “You cannot reach him here. It’s…how do I say it? Castiel safe.”

“What do you want from me then? You wanna kill me?” though it was hard, you tried to hide how scared you truly were right now.

“I know you’re smarter than that, (Y/N). If we wanted you dead, we would’ve killed you already. Castiel would be after us if we did. We simply wanted to warn you. Stay close to him & you’ll regret it.” his threat was intimidating.

“How do you define close?” it was a legitimate question.

“You know what we mean…This room will be Castiel safe for a bit longer. After that, you can pray to him & he’ll hear you. If I were you, I’d think of a good excuse in the meantime. Don’t forget…one wrong move & we’ll be back. Goodbye, (Y/N).” & with that, the two of them left you alone. They did not tell you when it was possible to send out a prayer. They did not tell you where you were exactly. All you knew was that they were serious. And you should not mess with them. When Dean had told you that angels were dicks, you did not think that was what he was warning you about. Their condition was simple. You should stay away from Cas or you would regret it. And you assumed that these angels were a lot stronger than you could handle. You did not want to die & neither did you want to risk Cas’ well-being. Immediately, you started prayer after prayer. He had to hear it sooner or later. All you could do now was try.

It felt like days passed. Hundreds, thousands of prayers later & still no sight of Cas. Maybe that was your end. All those years of unsuccessful searching for your family only for you to end up in another universe. Reunited with your brothers. And that was how you would go? Not what you imagined your life to be if you were completely honest. You were close to passing out. No food, no water, nothing. Your body was weak. You were weak. By now, every last ounce of hope had vanished.

“(Y/N)?” the last thing you saw before falling unconscious was Cas running to you.

Castiel had finally heard you. Begging for him to help you. To rescue you. No time was wasted. He found you soon after, shocked by the state you were in. Three days ago, he left you out of his sight. He had not stopped looking for you but it seemed useless. Until a small, broken voice appeared inside his head. Yours. Desperate words reached him. He knew he had to act fast. How he had lost you? No idea. Everything went so fast. Before he knew it, you were gone. Of course this family hid more than they let on. The second he found you, a weight got lifted off of his shoulders. No way could he bear losing you so shortly after you got closer. Immediately, he went to heal you. No bad wounds were adorning your body. Just your weakness was present. Yet, you could not stay awake any longer. Cas did not know how long you had been in there but from your exhaustion, he assumed just as long as he had searched for you. Freeing you of the ropes that were holding you to the chair, he picked you up bridal style. Teleporting to your motel room where he laid you on the bed gently. Looked like you were not planning on waking up anytime soon. So Cas packed all of your stuff & got his car ready. He no longer cared about this case. All he cared about was you being safe. And the bunker was the best safety you could get. He could deal with this hunt later.

Sam & Dean had no idea about your state, they thought the two of you were still in Wisconsin. Wrong. And they started worrying like crazy the moment Cas entered the bunker with you in his arms, unconscious. Question after question was thrown at Castiel who seemed to ignore his surroundings entirely. He just wanted to get you to your bed. The entire drive was spent asleep & he knew you would be like that for a while.

Sore. Your body felt sore. Like you had not moved in ages. Like the smallest movement took too much strength. Strength you could not muster right now. A familiar smell filled your nostrils. The sheets welcoming you. These were no motel sheets. No. You were home. How did you make it back? You definitely were not in Wisconsin anymore. Wait a second. There were no angels to hold you hostage anymore. Had Cas heard your prayers? Seemed like it. You could yell for him, for your brothers, but no words came out as soon as you opened your mouth. The hours of sleep you got did not change the fact that you were incredibly tired. Exhausted. Groaning, you stood up from the comfort of your bed. If nobody was here with you right now, then you had to take matters into your own hands. A glass of water. Something. You needed something. Your body made this task unnecessarily hard, though. One step after the other. Small, slow steps & you would reach the kitchen not long after. You got this.

Your walk to the kitchen was cut short when Sam saw you walking unsteadily. Running over to you, he picked you up a second later & brought you to the main area in the bunker.

“(Y/N). Why didn’t you yell for us?” the concern was audible.

“My voice.” creaking out, Sam’s eyes widened in realization. He left only to return a second later with a glass of water in hand. Gladly, you took it from him & enjoyed the cold liquid soothing your throat. Downing the glass, you handed it back to him. In this moment, Dean & Cas entered the room. Noticing you were awake, the two of them jogged over to you.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” Cas cupped your cheeks, caressing your soft skin with his thumbs. How you wanted to enjoy this moment. How you wanted it to never end. But your conversation with those angels came into your mind again. You leaned back, out of Cas’ reach. Eyes training down, you hoped nobody would question you.

“Um, yeah…I’m okay now. Just a little sore.” three pairs of eyes bore into you. They knew something was off. Dean was the first one to speak up.

“What happened?” sighing loudly at his question, you knew you had to improvise now.

“I didn’t do enough research. The case wasn’t as easy as we first thought it to be. The couple Cas & I were investigating? Witches. It was my fault they caught me, really. I should’ve been more careful.” after finishing, you risked a look at the three men in front of you. Did not look like they bought your little lie.

“There were no hints of witches there. We would’ve noticed.” Cas argued & you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you the one they kidnapped?” snapping at him, your voice was sharp. It was not your intention to sound so rude but everything overwhelmed you. Jumping up a second later, you ran back to your room, leaving them behind dumbfounded.

A soft knock was on your door. Maybe if you kept quiet they would leave you alone. Today was not your lucky day, apparently. Dean opened the door slowly, peaking his head inside to make sure you were not sleeping.

“What do you want, Dean?” you sat on your bed, back pressed against the headboard.

“Something’s wrong.” he noted, approaching you.

“I guess being kidnapped does that to you.”

“Cut the crap, (Y/N).” his voice raised slightly, immediately shutting you down. Your head hung low. “What’s wrong?” now, much softer, he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“Nothing, Dean.” sighing out, your head was thrown back, eyes closed in frustration.

“I think I know you well enough to notice when you’re lying.” & he was right. There was not a lot of things you could keep from him. Sam did not always tell when you lied to him but Dean could see right through you. “So, let’s do this again…What’s wrong?” his sincere eyes locked onto yours & that was when you knew you could not keep this from him. Not all of it.

“Cas kissed me.” Dean’s eyes widened at your statement. It took you two long enough. But when he saw your features change, he could tell that something about this was bothering you.

“But?” his question followed up.

“But it didn’t do anything with me.” your own words broke your heart but you could not risk it. Could not risk Cas’ safety. “The witches I could handle. Well…you know what I mean. They didn’t hurt me, just trapped me.” fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“What are you trying to say? You don’t like Cas?” Dean was confused. More than once had you let on that you liked the angel & when he talked to Cas about all of this, then he found out that he liked you, too.

“No. I do. Just not how I thought I would.” quieting down, you were done with the conversation for now. “I’m tired, Dean. I’ll join you guys later today, alright?” Dean nodded, stood up & left your room without another word. Though, his mind was running. Something about this entire situation felt wrong. Right now, he could not tell why. But he was sure he would find out sooner or later.

“Cas, man. What the hell did you do?” Dean was livid. For months, you had had eyes for the angel. And now, you told him he kissed you & you did not feel anything? What was going on?

“What?” Castiel was confused. Confused by Dean’s angry tone & by his accusation. Did he do something?

“You & (Y/N).” he pointed out.

“What about us?”

“Seriously? So I have to watch you guys dancing around your feelings for months only for her to tell me that when you kissed her it didn’t do anything with her?” his eyebrows raised, clearly waiting for an explanation. Cas, on the other hand, did not understand a single thing.

“She said that?” the angel’s voice was barely above a whisper. You kissed him back. Before you drove to Wisconsin, it was you who kissed him the second time.

“Yes. So you owe me an explanation before I kick your ass.” there it was. Dean’s protective side. He did not think, when you first came into their universe, that he would care for you on such a deep level. But here he was. And he could tell that Cas broke something in you.

“Dean, nothing happened. I kissed her, yes. But she kissed me, too. I thought we were fine until she woke up & didn’t want me to touch her.” it did not make sense to him. Was all of it a lie? Were you just playing around? He did not think you to be that kind of person. Whatever he did, he had to make it right before it was too late.

Later that day, you risked leaving your room once again. Hopefully, you would not come across anyone. You still had to greet Jack but that could wait. For now, you just wanted a little something to eat. It had been a while since you had your last meal & your stomach was rumbling with protest. Cas’ silhouette was in front of you. Shit, you really were not in the mood to interact with him. Yes, it hurt to know that whatever the two of you started the other day could never be. Before you could turn around & leave again, Castiel faced you. The hurt in his face was present & the guilt set in. He was like that because of you. You were the reason for his pain. And this thought itself hurt you more than anything. His feet dragged him over to you. A little step back from you made him stop. Apparently, you did not want to have him close.

“(Y/N)?” his tone brought tears to your eyes. But you would not let them fall. You could not. “Talk to me, please.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” you were being cold towards him which was uncommon. It was not in your nature to act like that. You were the sweetest soul Cas had ever met. Whoever was standing in front of him right now was not you.

“What did I do?” his concerned eyes locked onto your (Y/E/C) ones.

“You didn’t do anything, Cas. Believe me, please.” your plea was almost inaudible. No longer could you bare looking at him. You would break down in tears.

“Something changed you when you were trapped.”

“Cas, can we not do this right now?” closing your eyes briefly, you let out a sigh to calm yourself down. Leaving him no time for a response, you left the room again. Still no food inside of you. But you lost your appetite anyway.

The next morning, when you made your way back to the kitchen area again, you were glad when you were only met with Sam. His warm smile was welcoming. Something that let you feel at ease.

“Good morning. Coffee?” he offered you a cup & you gladly accepted. “I made pancakes. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” chuckling when your stomach grumbled. Sam handed you a plate & you sat down, quietly munching on your breakfast. At least he did not ask you about the case.

“What do they hold against you?” Sam asked after a few moments of silence.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I did my own research on your case. No witches whatsoever. Though, it was a good excuse, I gotta admit.” your eyes widened. Shit, if he found out what went down then he sure as hell would tell everyone. “Everything leads to angels. They didn’t hurt you. But they told you something. So…what are they holding against you?”

“Sam.” you sighed loudly. “You have to keep it a secret. Please.” staring at the tall man sitting opposite of you, you saw a sympathetic smile on his face.

“(Y/N)…”

“Okay, you wanna know what happened? Those angels threatened me. Said if I stay this close to Cas, I’d regret it. That they’d come after me or Cas. No way in hell will I let this happen.” due to your rambling, you did not notice Cas entering the room. Only when Sam coughed did you look around. What was it with him overhearing conversations?

“(Y/N).” like the night before, Cas approached you carefully. This time, you did not move away from him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m scared.” you admitted quietly. While you were a great hunter, you were not sure if you could handle fighting against angels.

“Sam & Dean are your brothers. Jack is the strongest being I’ve ever met & you’ve got me.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there, Cas. We really shouldn’t mess with them.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to ignore Cas?” Sam chimed in. Right, you had almost forgotten that he was still there. Casting your eyes down in embarrassment, you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. It was Cas.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, (Y/N). I promise.” he put a soft kiss on top of your head. You knew that. Castiel would do anything to keep you safe. But those angels scared you so much. You could not live with it if you were the reason of Cas getting hurt. Or worse. Looking up again, you noticed that Sam had left the room during your little interaction. Cas’ hands cupped your cheeks. Barely. Scared that you would not want to be touched by him. You did not move, though. No, you leaned into his touch. Closing your eyes to fully enjoy this intimate moment with him. His lips pressed against yours. Softly, as if your were fragile. When the two of you moved in sync, every little ounce of uncertainty washed away. You knew you could not stay away from him. But at the same time, you knew they would come after you now. This kiss would change everything. Whatever was awaiting you, it could not be good. But maybe, just maybe, if you went ahead & dealt with this together, nobody would get hurt.

~to be continued? (idk just yet)~

Published (03/31/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @vicmc624, @ayamenimthiriel, @teelagurl558, @babymango-writes, @hollymac79, @longinusfilibuster, @insanebot109, @down-down-inanulearan (thanks for your support <3)

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unstable-sapphic-hoe · 4 years ago

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The Ultimatum

AN: Heyyyy<3 How y'all doin'? Anyhoe, we're finally getting to the more exciting shit. Also, who do y'all think are the mysterious groups of people from both universes? IDK if I made it too obvious though so I'd love to hear feedback or some criticism. I might also post another chapter in a few hours if I can.

Words: 678 words.

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Chapter 5

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

They were all gathered. Today was the day. The day that might just turn the tide of an oncoming war in their favor, or might backfire on them. Either way, there was no backing out now, the Fates have already sealed their destiny.

“It is time, my friends,” a voice says, emerging out of the darkness.

“Then let us begin” another voice replied.

And so they did.

Someone steps forward from the circle they formed around another gateway window. There they could see into a child’s bedroom, though none of them paid attention to the room, but the occupants of it.

There were two women and a child. Their champion. The women were seemingly attempting to put the stubborn child to bed, who was adamantly arguing that they weren't tired, only to be betrayed by a yawn, which brought an amused smile to all of them despite what was about to happen.

When they were finally asleep, the two women left, leaving a kiss on the child’s forehead. With a heavy heart, one by one, each one of them said a prayer for the child.

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“But I’m not tired” Y/N stubbornly said, though was interrupted by a yawn.

“Yes you are, little one” Artemis laughed softly. “And don’t you even think about pulling out those puppy eyes of yours”, which only made Y/N huff and send a small glare through their heavy eyelids.

“Fineee” Y/N whined before settling theirself down, their favorite plushy snuggled in the crook of their arm.

And with that, both Artemis and Diana stood up after making sure that Y/N was all tucked in. They were about halfway out through the door when they froze.

“Goodnight, mommies” Y/N sleepily muttered.

When they looked back, they was already passed out. So with tears of joy in their eyes, they padded their way to their room, hearts bursting with love.

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“Are they ready to receive them?” a voice speaks up.

“They are, and they’ve been cleared on what to do”

“Good” they nod. Everyone then looks up from their conversations when they noticed the portal open. Looking into it, they saw another group of people, waiting to carry out their part of the plan. Knowing it was time, they sighed before looking back at the other portal they opened, this one leading to the child’s room.

“I’ll do it” they offered, only receiving nods in return. And with that they set foot inside the portal, emerging in the child’s room with a heavy heart. They could hear her steady breaths, they were so at peace.

They hated to have to do this, to rip the child away from her family, but they had to. It was for the greater good… wasn’t it? They shook the thought out of their head, this was no time to doubt.

So with that, they neared the bed silently, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the two Amazonians and Kryptonian realized something was off. They pulled back the blanket covering the child and gently lifted them into their arms, they had a sad smile as they realized that the child was still clutching the stuffed animal to their chest.

“I’m sorry, little one. But everything will be alright… one day”

With one last look at the room, they stepped into the portal. Though someone did go back into the child’s room to see if they could take anything that Y/N might need. They later returned with a bag of Y/N’s stuff. They took it and walked over to the other portal, and with the child still in their arms, they walked through it. They passed the sleeping child over carefully, not wanting them to wake just yet, followed by the bag of their stuff.

“You promise to watch over them?” they asked sternly.

“We do” the other voice confirmed. So with one last glance at the child, they nodded and steeled themselves before walking back through the portal, the portal immediately closing behind them. A lone tear was shed with a whispered apology.

“I’m sorry, Diana”

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Taglist: @madamevirgo , @black-dragon1998 , @marrymemcgrath , @trikruismybitch

Tell me if y'all wanna be added to the taglist.

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thero0ks · 4 years ago

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The Ghost of You <Miche Zacharius>

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hurt my own feelings while writing this.

TW: Death/Grief, Brief discussion of wounds

Blades of grass slipped through her fingers as she watched the stars blanket the sky. Wishing on shooting stars and birthday candles had left her feeling empty. Perhaps the cosmos would send him a message.

Her eyes held the universe, and Miche felt insignificant in her presence. One hand propped behind her head, the other resting at her side. His large hand slipped into hers engulfing it. Always too cold as of late. He didn’t care for the stars in the sky. The only thing he wished to do was observe her, and he had all the time in the world to trace out every little detail.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured as his fingertips skimmed across her skin. To describe her as a goddess would be an insult. She was so much more than that. Divine, perfectly sculpted, and the only thing that gave meaning to his existence.

Longing eyes flickered over to him, and his breath caught in his throat. He would rip apart kingdoms for that gaze alone. “Miche,” his name fell from her lips. He wanted to hear her saying it like a prayer in his ear as he made her see stars while he brought her to a state of euphoria.

Instead he simply cupped her face. “I’m here,” he assured. “I’ll always be here.”

A known hard ass to the cadets, he watched them all mutter curses when she ordered them to start their exercises. Walking amongst the cadets she commented on their form, gently adjusting them until it was perfect.

“We’ve lost so many of the veterans,” Erwin sighed, as he observed the training. Levi nodding in acknowledgment.

How many veterans were left Miche wondered. Nanaba? Gelgar? The loss of the Levi squad was a major blow to the scout regiment, but they had a lot of young blood. More cadets then Miche had seen in years. Erwin had entrusted their learning to the person he had spent hours training. The Commander had made a wise decision.

“Remember cadets, as long as we keep fighting, we haven’t lost.”

Pride swelled in his chest. “That’s my girl,” he said softly, arms crossed on his chest. She’d stepped into the roll of captain seamlessly. He recalled her being a wide eyed cadet when he first saw her. Earning his respect with her headstrong determination. She never ran from hard work, and she was the kind that would pick up the slack promising she could shoulder the load.

Miche was by her side as soon as the cadets were dismissed. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he slung his arm around her shoulders. “I’m so proud of you,” he exclaimed. The training grounds were empty and he heard the small sigh that escaped her body.

“I’m not you Miche. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” she groaned. Fingers running through her (dark/light) locks.

His heart dropped at her insecurities. She was her own worst critic. Miche knew it was a coping mechanism she’d developed in her childhood. If she said those hateful things then no one could hurt her with their criticism. Perhaps one day she would see how brilliant she was. Miche hoped that day would come soon.

Her voice surprised him as he turned to see her holding a white mug. The liquid steaming in the chilly room. Floorboards creaking under her feet as she approached Erwin’s desk.

“I brought you some coffee Commander,” Y/N said, placing the ceramic mug on his desk.

“I think you’ve earned the right to call me Erwin,” his blue eyes sparkled. Putting the pen down he leaned back in his chair. Eager for the prospect of conversation with the (petite/lean/curvy) woman.

The smell of coffee engulfed Miche’s senses. He knew that look in the Commander’s eye. The prospect of attention from the divine creature seated in front of him had stirred excitement within the intelligent man. Miche kept his distance a dull ache in his heart as he observed the two.

Dainty fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You shouldn’t stay up so late Erwin,” she softly chastised.

Miche caught the upturned corner of Erwin’s mouth. Knowing he was in her orbit of concern made the Commander happy. No one cared as much as her. She would do anything within her power to help those she loved. The balance she kept between a strong heart, and a caring heart was mesmerizing, and Miche never could pinpoint how she did it.

“You are the one that brought me coffee,” Erwin stated, taking a sip of the bitter beverage.

An amused smile played on her lips. “I knew you wouldn’t listen to my advice.”

“Tell you what,” Erwin said leaning forward, placing the mug on the edge of his desk. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Miche watched the gentle exchange of words. For once she didn’t look like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Her hand slid into Erwin’s as he pulled her out of her chair. Leading her out of the scout headquarters they walked along the pond. Erwin recounting stories from his cadet days pulled harmonic laughs from her lips.

Miche followed a few steps behind. Eyes fixed on the way the moonlight danced across her skin. Biting back the jealousy when Erwin took her hands in his.

“Your hands are cold,” he commented, trapping them between his large palms.

“They’ve been cold for months,” Miche commented, sadness coating his voice.

Doe eyes blinked up at the Commander. He was so gentle with her as if he was worried one miscalculated step would leave her heart shattered. “Can I kiss you?” Erwin’s voice came out in earnest.

“Yes,” Miche’s voice was just above a whisper. “Just say yes.”

He never thought he’d find himself pushing the love of his life into the arms of another man, but he couldn’t bear to see her go another day with cold hands, or a smile be a rarity that crossed her lips. Not when she had the most beautiful smile. He watched her hesitate, and he felt the hope shatter within.

“Miche,” it was only a name, but it was an answer. Erwin leaned back a sad smile gracing his lips. He could handle her sad heart, but she wasn’t ready for him. Years he had waited for her, and a few more wouldn’t hurt.

“I wish I had found you first,” he admitted. Tracing her cheek with his thumb he grabbed her hand to lead her back inside.

Miche stood still watching their retreating forms. He wanted to scream until he was hoarse. If letting her go would make her happy he was willing to do that. He would fight every selfish desire that arose in him just so she could be free. Love was painful, and this was a burden he was willing to bear if it meant seeing her happy once more. Loyalty is what drew him to her, and he knew that it was something she refused to change. It was him, it was always him. Just like she promised. In this life or the next she would always choose him. The greedy part in him danced with joy, but the selfless part ached at her agony. Her happiness is what mattered most to him, and he just wanted to see her smile.

She sat between his legs. Her back against his chest as she flipped through a novel. Miche rested his chin on her shoulder, arms loosely wrapped around her.

“Miche look at this,” she said with a giggle, as her eyes flickered up.

The haze of the fantasy world she was wrapped up in faded from her eyes, and reality slowly settled in. Her hand covered her mouth at the sight of the empty room. The book was long forgotten as it fell to the floor. Miche gripped her tightly in attempts to ground her.

“I’m here honey,” he said softly in her hair. Desperate to stop the tears that dropped down her chin. “I’ll always be here,” he promised, as he felt her body shake with sobs.

Helplessness filled him. He would follow her to the ends of the earth but she would never have a clue. The promise he made to her he had made certain to keep. He would always be there, but she would never know it. Was he living in his own personal hell he wondered.

Ghosts surrounded him on the battlefield. The blood soaked ground made the earth spongy under his feet. Lingering smoke settled in the air, and the debris that flew past him was nothing more than a nuisance. Cries of death echoed all around, but there was only one person he hoped to find. Erwin would forgive him for not meeting him. There was one last thing his soul had to take care of before moving on.Trapped under the buckskin horse, her breathing was labored. Miche ran to her desperate to catch her in time.

“Miche?” His lanky frame filled her vision. Tears of joy dripped down her cheeks as she reached for him.

“I’m here baby,” he said softly grabbing her hand. “I’ve always been here,” he assured placing a kiss to her open palm.

“I know I should fight, but I’m too tired Miche.” Y/N confessed, as blood passed her lips.

Miche took in her broken form. The Cavalry charge Erwin had led left the scouts completely slaughtered. Including his celestial being. A tragic death to match his own. Her white uniform was covered in so much blood he couldn’t decipher the origins of her wounds.

He watched the light slowly dim in her eyes, and Miche wanted to weep at the sight. Uncertainty plagued his mind. Where would they both go from here? He didn’t know what awaited them on the other side. He had refused to move on without her. He had one promise left to fulfill, and as her body grew cold he knew the end was nigh. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so scary if he traveled the road hand in hand with her.

A small hand on his shoulder startled him. “Miche?”

Her voice was like honey in his ears. Turning to see her, the joy that filled him at the sight of her soft smile was abundant. He eagerly took her hand to tower over her. Cupping her face he brought her into a passionate kiss. It felt like an eternity since she looked at him. These past months she had only looked through him. His one sided affection was worth it as he held her in his arms.

Home. She felt like home. He wanted to get lost in her kiss for eternity, but she pulled away. The kiss was too quick, and he craved more as he chased her lips. He felt the smile that crossed her lips as he kissed her. Fingers buried in her hair as he kissed the hurt away.

“It’s time honey,” she said softly against his lips.

“What’s going to happen to us?” He inquired, gazing into her (e/c) eyes.

Her eyes softened at his uncertainty. “I don’t know, but whatever it is we’ll be together.” She assured him. “I promise.” Her fingers stroked his face, her eyes full of adoration. “Thank you for being there.”

“Always.”

#Miche zacharius #miche zacharius x reader #miche zacharius x y/n #aot mike #Mike Zacharias #mike zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x y/n #aot miche zacharius #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan one shot

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years ago

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On the occasion of John Varley's quadruple bypass

John Varley, a beloved, versatile, funny, and wildly imaginative sf writer, recently had a quadruple bypass and is recovering well, but this is America, so he's also in need of financial support through his recovery.

https://varley.net/nonfiction/news/sending-prayers-to-the-cosmos/

You can donate to Varley's recovery fund via Paypal, which will support the Varley family's new expenditures (Dan Prall already helped them by buying the recliner chair John's doctors want him to sleep in).

https://www.paypal.com/donate/paymentComplete

When I heard Varley had been hospitalized, I felt that cold grue in my stomach, the dread that has haunted me not merely through the covid months, but also over the past decade, as the cohort of writers I grew up on have entered their 60s and 70s.

The news that Varley's surgery was successful came as an incredible relief - and with it, the realization that I didn't need to wait for an obit to write an appreciation of the writers whose work I love so dearly.

Varley is hugely influential upon me. I could never have written my 2003 debut novel DOWN AND OUT IN THE MAGIC KINGDOM without stories like his 1976 OVERDRAWN AT THE MEMORY BANK - a story that prefigured many of cyberpunk's central tropes.

Varley's short fiction is incredible - not just Hugo winners like THE PERSISTENCE OF VISION but also perfect gems like THE OPHIUCHI HOTLINE and THE BARBIE MURDERS - but they all add up to even more than the sum of their parts.

Much of Varley's work has been set in his "Eight Worlds" universe, where humans have been evicted from Earth by a mysterious alien race called "The Invaders," with the rump of the species being pushed out to the Moon, nearby planets, and the asteroid belts.

Varley's stories happily plunder one another for details of this scenario, lifting characters, technologies, and settings, but they make no pretense to being a "future history" of internal consistency.

The Eight Worlds stories and novels are only consistent with one another when it makes the story better - but when it doesn't, they jettison inter-tale consistency in favor of narrative. For me, the fact that writers could do this came as a jaw-dropping revelation.

Varley annihilated the pretense that an sf writer is some kind of oracle who knows the future - a bit of ghastly fatalism in that it implies that the future is knowable and thus will arrive irrespective of our choices today.

Instead, Varley treats his stories as entertainments and allegories, freed from the "Robert A Timeline" constraints, which allows him to collage his best ideas into new works, a kind of fan-service that is pure delight, freed from the tedious pretense of consistency.

This revelation led directly to my novel Walkaway, which incorporates ideas, props and scenarios from DOWN AND OUT IN THE MAGIC KINGDOM, EASTERN STANDARD TRIBE, and my other novels, without lumbering the story with the necessity to make it fit in with their continuity.

Varley is an unabashed plunderer, particularly of Heinlein, mashing up Heinlein tropes with contemporary ideas, progressive politics, and other delights to make new works that both pick apart and celebrate Heinlein's work.

This was always lurking in his work, but it became very explicit with novels like STEEL BEACH (1992), an absolute ROMP of a book that crosses THE MOON IS A HARSH MISTRESS with the then-ascendant cyberpunk genre conventions (which Varley helped invent) to outstanding effect.

I just re-read STEEL BEACH and found it every bit as delightful as I had in the early 90s, when I hand sold hundreds of copies of it as a bookseller. It's also the direct ancestor of Ian McDonald's MOON IS A HARSH MISTRESS-riffing trilogy.

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/09/22/ian-mcdonalds-luna-new-moon-the-moon-is-a-much-much-harsher-mistress/

Varley's work embodies the collaborative spirit of sf, as tropes are ruthlessly plundered and reworked without apology. It's a process that's wonderfully described in my mentor Judith Merril's Hugo-winning memoir, "Better to Have Loved":

https://memex.craphound.com/2003/08/11/science-fiction-prefigured-the-creative-commons/

"Whereas in other literary fields you wouldn’t dare take an idea from another writer and use it, because that would be considered plagiarism, science fiction people loved to build on each other’s stories.

"The business of giving away ideas and promoting other people’s work was a part of the community at large. The Futurians did this to an amazing extent. For example, every Futurian had a pen name that included the family name Conway. A good number of the stories that appeared in science fiction magazines at the time were written by someone-or-other Conway."

In other words, amateurs plagiarize, artists steal.

Think of the way that Varley's symbiotic alien spacesuits were beautfully plundered by Spider and Jeanne Robinson for their own Hugo-winning STARDANCE.

http://spiderrobinson.com/books.html

I found so many revelations in Varley's work: just the proliferation of "disneylands" on the Moon was an wonderfully economical bit of storytelling, an entire implied history of a notoriously bullying corporation in tatters after an invasion, all in a single, lower-case "d."

And then there's the RED THUNDER books, wherein Varley took apart and reassmbled Heinlein's "juvies" as parables about the paranoid, post-9/11 America, a country that occupied Iraq, Afghanistan and itself:

https://memex.craphound.com/2006/04/17/the-novel-heinlein-would-have-written-about-gw-bushs-america/

I don't think I'd have written LITTLE BROTHER - a book I thought of as an anti-authoritarian riff on HAVE SPACESUIT, WILL TRAVEL - if I hadn't read RED THUNDER.

Varley's work is worth aspiring to: a perfect mix of wildly imaginative and just plain *fun*. His most recent novel, IRONTOWN BLUES, is an Eight Worlds hard boiled noir novel starring an uplifted dog detective.

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/08/29/john-varleys-irontown-blues-noir-doggy-science-fiction-from-one-of-the-fields-all-time-greats/

Varley runs a shop for signed copies of his books, though shipping is slow ("We are strictly a kitchen-table operation. Your book will be carefully selected from our shelves, lovingly hand-wrapped, and decorated with real US Postage stamps").

https://varley.net/shop/

If you're looking for a title to order from the shop, may I recommend 2004's "The John Varley Reader: 30 Years of Short Fiction."

https://varley.net/collection/the-john-varley-reader/

Image: Arthur Jene https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:John_Varley.jpg

CC BY-SA: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic

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ugh-tsumu · 3 years ago

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hi ading !!! 4, 37, 44, 63 for the oc asks !

ATE DANI AHHHH! Thank you for sending an ask 🥺 it's pretty obvious that me and my bff @bucciaratisbralette are obsessed with them, given our constant reblogs with our fics and character sheets. We got carried away but thank you so much for asking! <333

Our OCs are members of Unità di Intelligence - an intelligence unit from JoJo's Bizarre Adventures universe

OCs ASK GAME

Matteo // Erebus

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

His bangs are white because of polisios that he inherited from his father (he also has white spots on the back of his head but he dyes it because someone called him a dalmatian once). he's also quite tall and pale so people notice him right away.

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

He doesn't currently have a dream that he wants to achieve. Rather, he doesn't have the time to think about having one because he's too busy living in the present to think about what he wants in the future. for now, he can say that he just wants to keep his unit safe and stay avoid his father.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

He doesn't like it whenever people are being incompetent. He also doesn't like it whenever the subject of his past and his family are brought up, he'd like to leave it behind. He also gets annoyed by customers sometimes if they get too Karen-y at him or his team. (Poor Matt)

63.) How does your OC display love?

He doesn't know how to properly express it, but sometimes he will tell you that you did a good job and that you should take a break. would probably also give you a thumbs up if he thinks it's appropriate.

Ivano // Deus

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

He's the shortest on the lot HAHAHAHAHA. His eyes are peculiarly blue. Like, beautiful blue. Gojo blue! And I don't know if it shows but Suga was my inspiration for his look hehe.

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

Oh, to manipulate Matteo! It was the sole reason why he joined the unit.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

He hates not being in control. Ivano probably has God complex. He thinks everyone is under his control (not really)

63.) How does your OC display love?

He is really rude to the members but I don't think Ivano understands the concept of 'love' and 'family'. Up to this day, he's still confused about why he cares for his members or his 'puppets'.

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

She's actually quite muscular and has very toned legs and biceps. the darker skin tone also attracts a few eyes on her because of where they are situated on (Italy).

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

She dreams of the day when the identity of the person who gave the order to kill her people is revealed to her. She waits for the time when she can inflict the same amount of pain they had caused her. she hasn't found them yet but she's getting there with the help of Matteo.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OCs?

She really values loyalty and those who are special to her. Do anything to betray her or hurt those dearest to her, then you can probably expect either your water to be poisoned or something happening to your blood. Her biggest pet peeve however is when people litter and when someone smokes near plants (she's alright with you smoking but just don't be near any plants)

63.) How does your OC display love?

She likes making hot chocolate for people that she cares about. She'll ask about their day and would be down to cuddle with them while they're watching movies on the tv.

Gnu // PX or Prayer X (pronounced as Gee-nu)

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

Gnu is noticeably feminine. It's because the cult his family was part of (and he escaped from) groomed children to become "lady-like". Gnu also wore clothes that are color white so now, he's VERY obsessed with black clothing.

Another thing that is noticeable from Gnu are the two dots on his cheeks. These are actually tattoos that he got from the tattoo shop Mundo suggested back when he was still exploring his taste in fashion.

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

His dream is for things to stay as it is, really. He considers his members as his family now and to lose his family for the second time is something he'd rather not happen.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

Gnu hates seeing children getting hurt. By children, I mean anyone younger than him. That's why he's kind of protective of Achiyaku, Finn, and Mundo. He also hates people who are greedy for power. This killed the other children from his cult, after all.

63.) How does your OC display love?

I'd like to say his love language is Acts of Service? He likes to draw quick sketches (he's a great painter) of the other members. He's pretty protective with the younger ones, too - even does the things for them even (like reaching this, picking up that, cleaning this, closing that, the little things).

Mundo // Mundo

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

He's....so random. He has this tacky hoodie and he has nothing underneath it. His hair is dyed with an unusual shade of blue. His glasses don't match the "aesthetic" he's trying to pull and he has this weird stars and moon tattoo under his eyes (yes, he got it when he recommended the tattoo shop to Gnu).

It's not even possible to not physically notice him. The colors are all over the place and he's...exotic.

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

Mundo is short and simple minded. As of now, he consideres joining the unit as his biggest dream (he is not an official member) in which Matteo (the leader) does not approve of since he's only 16 and should be studying instead of loitering at their business.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

Hmmmmm....Mundo is a very positive person so I don't know if there are things that upsets him. I barely know him as a character, but he loves to have fun and he barely shows other sides of him to others. His background story has not been posted yet but Mundo is an individual the others barely know. No one knows his real name, his family background, where he studies, his real intentions, etc.

He's very mysterious....

63.) How does your OC display love?

CLINGY. CUDDLES. SURPRISE TACKLES. SURPRISE HUGS. He's like that younger brother that's literally obsessed with anything you do. He loves to cling to Ivano the most and Ivano keeps on swating him away (he "hates" him, he said) but this does not stop him from pestering him LOL.

Finn // Hermes

4.) What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

His cheeks are really full and are soft to pinch (but please don't pinch without permission. Also why he looks younger than he is)

37.) What is your OC’s biggest dream?

He wanted to become a bigshot in the robotics and AI field, but after running away when his brother died, he doesn't know anymore. he still likes his robots and coding so the dream might not be dead afterall.

44.) What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

he doesn't like it whenever people would talk bad about his brother (back in Germany). he also doesn't like it whenever people gossip about his team (especially those who talk badly about Ivano and Matteo). Finn also doesn't appreciate it if people were to touch anything that he was working on (be it a new model for his robot or his laptop if he's working on a code). Also gets annoyed whenever people call his stand creepy (he personally doesn't understand why they think so (RBR in the back: 👁👄👁) )

63.) How does your OC display love?

he smiles more around people and would try to engage in conversation more often. he would let them touch the robots he's working on and explain to them how it should function if he gets the coding right (MUNDO LOVES THEM EVEN IF HE DOES NOT HAVE A CLUE). also cuddles are appreciated.

#hikbi.plays #jjba oc #oc story #jojo's bizarre adventures oc #matteo #ivano #achiyaku #gnu #mundo #finn

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litwitlady · 4 years ago

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5+1

Five times Michael kisses Alex, and one time Alex kisses Michael.

They have been arguing for half an hour. Michael upset that Alex has been avoiding him. Alex upset that Michael no longer loves him – even though he hasn’t admitted that part yet.

When the rain starts, Alex turns to head home. They are getting nowhere, and he doesn’t want to get soaked. ‘Goodbye, Michael.’

‘Wait, Alex.’ Michael grabs his arm as the rain starts to fall in earnest. ‘What’s wrong? And the truth this time. Then you can run home.’

Anger flares in Alex’s chest. ‘What’s wrong, Guerin, is how easily you stopped loving me. It was just ‘you’re not good for me’. And then, poof! I was suddenly so much nothing. How did you do it? Please, because I’m having a really fucking hard time returning the favor.’

His tears mingle with the rain as Michael stares at him open-mouthed and clearly confused. Maybe a touch hurt.

‘What? Alex, no.’ Michael reaches for him again, but Alex dodges. They are both soaked now, hair plastered to their foreheads. Michael follows Alex to his car door. ‘Please. That’s not what happened.’

‘Yes, Michael. To me, that’s what happened. So just, leave me alone.’ His hands go to his pockets for his keys but come up empty. ‘Fuck. My keys are back at the Crashdown.’

‘Stay here. I’ll go get them.’ He runs off before Alex can stop him.

It’s raining so hard the storm drains are starting to backup. Small rivers flow along the curbs, splashing over sidewalks. The temperature has dropped. And Alex is starting to shiver beneath his soggy clothes. He wants to go home and shower this day away.

By the time Michael returns, he’s hugging himself and rubbing his hands up and down his arms – teeth practically chattering. Michael hands him his keys, wallet, and phone – but grabs his wrist before he can pull away. Warmth immediately surges through Alex’s body. Melting away the freezing rain.

‘I love you, Alex. And I never stopped. Not once. Not even for a second.’ He moves to open Alex’s car door. ‘I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise.’

Alex runs his thumb over his key fob. But can’t bring himself to push the unlock button. ‘Well, you were very convincing.’ He guesses the storm has washed away all his anger. Or maybe he’s just exhausted.

‘Years of practice.’ Michael half-smiles and motions to the door. ‘You’re cold. You should go and get warm.’

Alex doesn’t move. ‘I am cold. But I want you to warm me up.’

They stand staring at each other. Thunder clapping overhead. Michael takes a step forward and then another. The gap between them shrinking quickly. And then his hands are on Alex’s chest, walking him slowly back against the Explorer.

Michael moves his hands up to Alex’s neck, presses their hips together. And everything locks back into place. Their bodies curving into each other like that’s what they were made to do.

Alex runs his cool, damp hands under Michael’s shirt. Not caring that they are in public. And Michael shivers. His thumbs reach Michael’s nipples and that’s when Michael attacks. Moaning into Alex’s mouth, sucking and licking along his bottom lip until Alex opens for him.

If possible, the rain falls even harder as they kiss desperately, bodies fused together against the Explorer. Kyle spots them and stops briefly, lifting an umbrella over their heads, before laughing and running off. Alex and Michael do not notice.

Two weeks later, Michael and Isobel are at the Pony. Tucked away in a back booth. Isobel is trying to discuss the Max and Liz situation, but Michael is distracted. Alex is at the bar laughing with Maria. More than once, something in Alex’s left ear has caught the dim bar lights overhead. Michael suspects he knows why and welcomes the heat that flares in his belly.

‘Michael, are you listening? We’re practically in crisis here and you can’t pull your eyes away from Alex for two fucking seconds.’ She throws a slice of lemon into this hair and he just leaves it there. Too distracted to care.

Isobel gives up. Goes back to drinking her beer and plotting ways to get her dumb brother back together with the love of his life. One down, one to go. Then she can focus on herself.

Alex turns around and spots Michael immediately. Grins. Waves goodbye to Maria and heads over to their booth. With every step, Michael gets more and more excited.

As Alex slides into the booth next to him, Michael’s hand goes to his ear and discovers the small, gold hoop. Fingers giving his ear a little tug. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Last night. Liz and Maria helped. Doesn’t even hurt. Do you like it?’

Michael answers by kissing his earlobe. Licking up the shell of his ear and whispering. ‘I think it’s really fucking hot. Forgot how much I’d missed it.’

Isobel groans dramatically. ‘Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? Watching you two lick at each other like feral animals?’

Alex goes to say he’s sorry, but Michael shooshes him with a kiss.

‘Really, Michael?’ Isobel whines.

Michael reaches back blindly for his hat, uses it to hide their very enthusiastic making out from his sister. She huffs a laugh and kicks him under the table. ‘I will have my revenge.’

‘Wait. Why is there a lemon in your hair?’ Michael puts his hat on his head and takes the lemon slice from Alex, throws it back at Isobel. Starts to nudge Alex out of the booth.

‘Enjoy babysitting Max, Iz. I’ve got better things to do.’ He winks down at her.

Alex grabs Michael’s hand starts pulling him towards the door. ‘He means me.’

Isobel flicks them off as they leave the bar laughing.

Six months fly by and Michael moves in with Alex. Max comes over to help Michael build out Alex’s closet – well, their closet now. Alex is busy working on a coding project for work and leaves them to it.

Lunch time rolls around and they’ve worked up an appetite. Michael heads out to where Alex is hunched over his computer at the kitchen counter. ‘We’re going to grab something to eat. Want to come?’

Alex shakes his head. ‘Too busy. I’ll just eat something quick here. Have fun.’ He doesn’t even bother looking up from the screen.

‘Okay. Well, I’m be home soon.’ Alex’s fingers abruptly stop typing. Michael grins like an idiot. It’s the first time he’s used that word out loud. Home. He’s finally home.

Michael kisses Alex hard on his cheek. ‘I love you so much.’ And then he kisses him on his temple, his forehead and both eyes. Back down to his cheeks. Loudly punctuating each kiss with a smack of his lips.

Alex laughs, plays at swatting Michael away. ‘I love you, too.’

He kisses Alex one last time on the mouth. And then turns back towards Max. ‘I’m ready now.’ As he passes his brother he stops and smacks a kiss on his cheek as well. ‘Wouldn’t want you to feel left out.’

Max chuckles. He’s so damn happy for Michael.

They head out to his jeep and Max pauses before climbing inside. ‘I like this Michael. The Alex Michael. Looks good on you, brother.’

‘Feels good, too.’ He smiles and walks around the jeep, pulls Max into a hug. Lifting him off the ground and spinning him around.

Alex hears them laughing, smiles and sends a prayer of thanks to the universe.

October 2008

Alex returns to Roswell nine weeks after leaving for basic. His hair is shorn close and he’s lost weight. Michael barely recognizes him. And it breaks his heart. All the anger he remembers feeling with Alex left vanishing.

They are sitting on Michael’s bed. In his new airstream. Well, new to him anyway. Alex hasn’t said more than two words. But he’s driven out to the junkyard, so Michael is doing his best to make him feel wanted and welcome. Because Michael has missed him so much that sometimes he can’t breathe.

‘Was it bad?’ Michael asks. He knows the answer already.

Alex just shrugs and hugs his knees into his chest. ‘It’s over now.’

But that’s not true. They both know it’s only just beginning.

Michael aches to touch him. To hold him. Worries if he does, he’ll never let him go. ‘Do you want to stay here? With me. Instead of with…,’ His voice trails off. Doesn’t want to mention that man.

‘I got a motel room. But I’d rather stay here.’ He looks up at Michael for the first time, his pretty brown eyes so haunted. And Michael can no longer stop himself. He scoots back against his pillows, pulling Alex down onto his chest. The way Alex clings to him brings tears to his eyes.

‘I missed you.’ He whispers the words into Alex’s hair.

Alex shifts against him. Looking up. ‘Is your hand better?’

Michael instinctively flexes his fingers, feels the tight scar tissue stretch. Shows Alex. ‘It’s not pretty, but it still works. Mostly.’

They lie together for a long time. Holding on for dear life. Michael is just about asleep when Alex climbs on top of him. ‘Show me how much you missed me.’ His hands are clasped in Michael’s dirty t-shirt. ‘Please.’

He knows sex is maybe not the best idea, but he’s never once been able to say no to Alex. He weaves his fingers through Alex’s hair and stretches his neck up to kiss him softly on the mouth.

At that one simple touch, something in Alex comes undone. He collapses against Michael’s chest, body racked with sobs. Michael holds him until he falls asleep, until the sun comes up, until he has to leave again.

Their one year anniversary happens to coincide with Planet 7’s Pride celebration. All of their friends come along to celebrate with Michael and Alex.

Isobel declares herself in charge of wardrobe and dresses everyone for the big night. Michael looks like a walking bisexual flag – all pinks and purples and blues. While Alex just looks hot. Rainbow tattoos across his cheeks, tight black leather pants, and an old David Bowie t-shirt with the sleeves cut out. Cut off so low that Alex’s nipples are nearly always on display – at least from the side, which is where Michael tries to station himself all night.

Everyone else has some version of cheek tattoos, feather boas, and glitter. Especially Kyle who really takes to everything Isobel throws at him. Even Max has let Isobel do his makeup – the entire bar complimenting him on his gorgeous pink eyelashes.

They have an absolute blast. Singing and dancing and loving each other.

As the evening draws to a close, Isobel brings out a huge cake. It’s covered in rainbows and unicorns and little green aliens. Michael and Alex delight at the garish cake and hug her between them. Both wishing her a happy pride and kissing her thank you.

Michael cuts the first piece of cake and smashes it into Alex’s face. Isobel shrieks, punching him on the arm. But Michael just grins wider and stalks towards his boyfriend. Alex is trying to scramble way, but he’s not fast enough. Michael pounces, grabbing his hips and lifting him onto a stool. Thumbs under his chin, lifting his face up for better access. Licks the pink frosting from his chin and then buries his tongue in Alex’s mouth.

Everyone groans but throws glitter over them as they kiss. Isobel never forgives them for the food fight that breaks out shortly after. Her beautiful cake ruined.

On Michael’s 31st birthday, they head out to their spot in the desert. Wrap themselves in blankets in the bed of Michael’s truck. It’s a cool June night and the sky is clear, stars twinkling above them.

Their two year anniversary is next week. And they are taking their first real vacation. Michael has always wanted to go to Asia, so they have a whole trek planned. Three weeks in Thailand, Vietnam, and Japan.

‘Do you still think about leaving?’ Alex twines their fingers together.

Michael shakes his head. ‘There’s nothing out there for me.’

‘Really? You don’t want to know about your home anymore? Where you came from?’ His brow creases and he worries that Michael has given up too much for him.

But Michael reaches up and smooths out the crease with his thumb. ‘You are my home and I’m way more concerned about where we’re going. The past is the past. But the future can be anything we want it to be.’

‘And you’re really not sick of me yet?’ Alex smirks up at him. ‘I mean, I am unemployed now. Can’t even pay my half of the bills.’

Alex’s honorable discharge was one of the happiest things to ever happen to Michael. He’d work a thousand jobs if it meant Alex was free of the military.

‘Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to take care of you.’ He nuzzles his nose against Alex’s. ‘Staring with this.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a guitar pick, hands it to Alex.

‘Rings are kind of dumb. So, I got you your favorite pick. A whole box of them, actually.’ He laughs, a little nervous now.

‘What?’ Alex is confused at first – but then realization lights up his eyes. ‘Wait – are you – what are you doing right now, Michael?’

Michael shrugs, leaning back into the blankets. ‘Asking you to marry me. Figured two years – ‘

Alex doesn’t let him finish. He straddles Michael’s waist and kisses the proposal from his mouth. Answering with his tongue. They move against each other, Alex frantic – Michael trying to slow him down.

‘Is that a yes, then?’ Michael smiles against Alex lips.

‘That’s a fuck yes.’ Alex attacks his mouth again and Michael doesn’t try to stop him this time.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years ago

Text

Come Home (ao3)

Jason Todd gets a message from Bruce. He's surprised to see it. Then, he's surprised by the message itself. Hearing Bruce's final message stirs something inside of him, urging him towards a place he's avoided ever since his and Bruce's falling out. So he gathers his things, and then... waits.

He can't leave yet. Jason doesn't know why. Bruce gave him a mission, just like old times. Except it's not, because he... Jason can't move. Can't even stand.

That's how Kyle finds him.

New York City, NY - 3:42 a.m.

Jason heard the flick of a switch before he saw Kyle’s shadow in the doorway. He tensed in his seat but made no move of leaving. Not an inch since he finished packing, duffel lying at his feet. Waiting for Jason to drag it out the window he came through.

It’ll wait a bit longer.

“Jason,” Kyle asked, shuffling closer. He turns the light on in this room now, shadows retreating. Like a warm blanket being pulled away, leaving him defenseless. “Jason,” he repeats, peering down at him. Hair ruffled from sleep, wiping at drool with his wrist. “You finished with patrol?”

He answers with a small hum, knuckles shifting against his lips.

“Rough night?” Kyle yawns. “Why’re you still out here?”

The words catch in his throat, scraping it hard enough he bleeds. Though the copper taste might be from how he bites his tongue. Afraid that if he eased his grip, it all might spout forth like a broken pipe, leaving a horrible stain. Once those thoughts are given form, there won’t be any avoiding them.

Kyle crouched down when he wasn’t looking, dragging his thumb across Jason’s cheek scar. “Jay,” he whispers, “what is it? Why do you have your bag out?” Blinking, Jason notices his lover is more alert now. Staring at him with unnaturally green eyes, piercing like they were constructs from his ring.

The usual finger is naked. Ring absent, as it should be. There’s no need for rings or guns, masks or helmets, here in their apartment. Together, they can exist as themselves. In this small, shared space, they are Kyle Rayner and Jason Todd. Green Lantern and Red Hood can have every inch of the world – the whole universe, even – save the apartment they call home.

But the helmet still rests on his lap. Reflects the light from the overhead lamp, milky lenses staring up at him.

“Kyle,” he chokes on the other man’s name. Then, nothing. His shoulders shudder, vision grows hazy. His lover’s face blurs, but it’s the only thing he can focus on. Closer, rapidly, until the darkness returns. He nuzzles at Kyle’s neck, arms slipped over his shoulders. Warmth treads the surface of his skin but cannot dive deeper. Iced out by the pervasive chill that spread since he answered his phone.

“Jason,” Kyle says, “hey… I’m here… let it out, Jay…”

The muttered encouragement breaks what little remained of his defenses. His tears flow free, unburdened, transporting him years into the past. As a kid, his sadness went unnoticed. Swallowed up by the hustle and bustle of Gotham, too busy for another misty-eyed, dirty kid on the street. Over time he learned how to hide that part of him, wound scabbed so heavily he might never cry again. But then someone saw him. Offered his shoulder like Kyle does now, soaking up Jason’s tears. Riding the wave alongside him.

How Jason wishes he were that young again. When it was simple. Where all that happened between them was a far, twinkling dot in the sky named ‘yet to be’. So he can cry with him one last time.

Kyle, for once, isn’t enough.

“Hey,” he starts, as Jason’s sobs lessen, “d’you want to talk about it now?”

He doesn’t. Might never be able to. And if Jason told him that, Kyle would understand. Kiss along his scar; suggest a nightcap even though he knows Jason will shoot the idea down. Only offering it as a poor attempt at changing the conversation.

That’s why he loves him. That’s why Kyle deserves to know.

Talking is hard. Luckily, someone can speak on his behalf. Jason pulls his phone out, blindly punching in the passcode. Then he hands it over, video already playing.

Kyle watches Bruce. Jason watches Kyle.

The video is white noise at this point, Jason having lost count of how much he hit the rewind button. Listening to Bruce’s voice like sitting on the other side of a window while a severe thunderstorm rages; safe from the pounding rain and deadly lightning. As it plays, and Kyle’s expressions mirror the same marks Jason believes he hit during his first few views, some of the rain slips through an open crack. A shiver races down his spine.

Bruce stops talking. Kyle drops Jason’s phone, collapsing onto his knees, crushing Jason’s duffel. Face blank while he processes what Jason can’t quite wrap his head around yet. “Batman… Bruce Wayne is dead?”

“Yeah…” Having someone else admit it made it easier. It breezes past his lips, “Bruce is dead.” A beat passes, Jason lifts his helmet. “Gotham’s gonna be hell, with Batman gone… defenseless.”

Kyle’s hand hovers over his knee for a second, and then lands. Squeezes it until Jason breaks from the contest with the empty gaze of his helmet so he can look at a warmer, more loving one. “You’re going back then. To Gotham.”

“You heard the video,” Jason shrugs, “Kinda have to.”

“Jay…” Kyle huffs, rubbing tiny circles into Jason’s knee. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“And yet you’re still going.” There’s no judgement weighing down Kyle’s statement, only concern. It’s a luxury that Jason revels in. “Do you want to go? Go back… there?”

Oddly enough, Jason does. “He sent me a video,” he starts, shifting. Holds his helmet with one hand while the other crawls over Kyle’s. “After everything that went down, he… he sent me a video. I can’t begin to explain why …” Kyle flips his hand, fingers curling around Jason’s wrist. “But he did. Sometimes, in those really bad moments… I figured he wrote me off completely. Kicked out of the nest for… well, y’know. But this I… I can’t help feeling, by sending this, he was saying sorry. For it getting this bad. For not being there when I needed him. Not being around anymore to make it better. If I didn’t go back… let’s just say I’d regret it.” He sniffs, chuckling, “Besides, I’d be a hypocrite if I let the old man die and not leave at least fifty slugs in their corpse after harping on and on about Bruce letting the Joker live.”

“Jay,” Kyle warns, fighting a smile. Losing with every twitch of his lips. “Fifty is a bit much, isn’t it?”

“Forty-nine, then?”

“You’re not funny.”

“Yes, I am,” Jason says, scraping at Kyle’s wrist with blunt nails, “you love my jokes.”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “I love you. Your sense of humor is one of the many crosses I bear for doing so.”

“Yeah, well…” The levity flees as the weight of the situation reasserts itself, both their mouths thinning into serious lines. Jason tugs himself free of Kyle’s hold, clutching at his helmet with both hands again. “I have to go.”

“For how long?” he asks.

Jason frowns, “I… I’m not sure.”

Nodding, Kyle stands. Towers over Jason, bangs hanging over his face. He pushes them out of the way, brushing them behind his ear. “You don’t have to leave right away, do you?”

He thinks about it. Not for long. “I… guess I can wait until morning.”

“…Thank you.”

Jason follows Kyle, dropping Red Hood’s helmet on the duffel. Sheds his layers in a trail towards their room, falling into bed beside his lover. Kyle wraps his arms around him, kissing him. Maps out well-worn paths on more scars scattered over his body. He accepts the laved attention, soaking it up. Memorizes each caress for the lonely nights to come.

There’s a whispered prayer mixed in with Kyle’s reverence. “Please Jay,” he says, “Come home to me.”

Jason could say it a million times in a million different ways, none of which would make a believable promise. Instead he kisses Kyle. Kisses him until exhaustion overpowers them both, Jason falling asleep in Kyle’s arms.

When Kyle awakes next, however, there’ll be no one there. No Jason, no bag on the living room floor, and no blood red helmet. By then, he’ll be on his way to Gotham and away from home.

Coming back only when he’s ready to.

#batman #red hood #green lantern #jason todd #Kyle Rayner #jason todd x kyle rayner #jaykyle #red hood x green lantern #gotham knights #jaykyle fic #bruce wayne

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