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red-bat-arse · 11 months ago

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I Got a Problem 🎸🎶🎻

AO3

Chapter One

Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, famous for bringing rock to new heights with his band Hellfire, listens to everything but Country. 'King' Steve Harrington, leading light of the new generation of traditional Country artists, has a few thoughts about that.

=<+>=

Eddie Munson did not normally find himself accused of being musically pigeonholed.

He'd played alongside punk bands in his early touring days, and grew up on jazz and the blues from his mum and uncle. His hits on the pop charts prompted a few collaborations with electronic and indie artists, and his sophomore album featured a few rappers who wanted to get experience with rock. Metal was his bread and butter, he had a soft spot for soulful folk ballads, and given his close friendship with Argyle he was more than familiar with reggae and funk and all varieties of stoner music.

Of course, you could probably guess that the exception to all that was the ever contentious genre of country. However that wouldn't be a problem, wouldn't even be on Eddie's radar, if not for the batshit insane decision Hopper made in a diner three blocks away from the studio the week prior.

Eddie scowled and shot Jeff another look when his vocalist snickered at his expense. On the other side of the room this party was happening in, he could see Steve Harrington talking with Dustin and laughing at whatever the kid was frantically gesturing about.

He was dressed in a embroidered beige western shirt with pearls on the long cuffs, blue jeans with a brown belt and a big copper buckle, and honest to god cowboy boots that matched the ensemble. His hair was styled high and his biceps strained the shirt sleeves a little, and when he turned on his heel to follow Dustin's pointer figure Eddie was briefly overcome with lust at the amazing ass in his direct line of sight.

"I don't care," he pronounced finally, twitching as Harrington spun back and ruffled Dustin's hair, grinning wide when the kid squawked in outrage. Jeff outright snorted and Eddie glared harder. "I think doing this before we move to a bigger space is stupid, but all power to the Chief if he thinks we can make it work."

"Don't care at all, got it," Gareth said, coming up beside him. "It's just business concerns. Like, our assets."

"See, why can't you be more like Gareth, Jeffery? He knows exactly what i'm talking about," Eddie slung an arm over Gareth's shoulders -and he must be in a good mood because he didn't duck away. "Business assets."

"More like his ass-et," Jeff muttered, and Eddie valiantly ignored him.

Five days ago Hopper walked into the studio's monthly brunch and introduced them all to one Joyce 'Mama' Byers -which, okay, even Eddie knew who she was -and dropped the bombshell that she signed on with them two days prior. Once the commotion died down she was the one who dropped the next one, informing them all that they'd soon be sharing close quarters with nine other artists from her former label, preeminent among them the one who convinced them all to walk out, that being Steve Harrington.

All ten of them were country artists. Prison Break Records hadn't put out any music that wasn't solely rock or metal in it's entire eight years of existence. To say there was a bit of culture shock going around was an understatement.

"Give them a chance, Ed," Grant passed by with a few cans of coke tucked into the crook of his arm and slapped him on the shoulder, making Eddie stumble. "Half of them are in the middle of doing the bar circuit right now, and it's not like we need the studio space anyway. It's all good."

Eddie huffed, trying not to let Grant's comment sting -he knew he didn't mean anything by it. But at nearly six months to the day, even though the guys would never rush him, maybe Eddie was getting a little bit worried about the future.

"I was talking with the Byers, apparently it's mainly gonna be Joyce and Harrington recording for the next month at least," Gareth piped up again, jabbing a thumb in the direction of country music's leading family -Argyle had somehow struck up a conversation with them and while the younger brother seemed confused, the elder was paying rapt attention to whatever their resident stoner was explaining. "Everyone else is taking a break or doing small shows or one off songs, like Grant said."

"Fine, fine, I get it," Eddie held up his hands in surrender. "But if they start blasting fucking honky-tonk bullshit-"

"Oh come on, Munson, don't tell me you're one of those."

Eddie paused, then slowly turned around, feeling his face heat up only partly in embarrassment to see Harrington standing just behind him, having apparently been abandoned by Dustin in the last few minutes. He had his hip cocked and a hand casually resting with the thumb hooked in his belt, and up close Eddie could see little moles scattered all over his face and neck like flecks of paint. Next to them, Jeff turned and coughed a laugh into his elbow, muffled.

"What, pray tell, are you talking about?" Eddie quashed the instinct to puff up for a fight. Just because Harrington was a good old jock with arms that could bench him didn't mean he had to have his back up, and he reasoned that this was his home turf here. He and Hopper may not always see eye to eye, but if Eddie asked he'd take his side in a heartbeat.

Harrington gave a funny little smirk, the kind you'd give to the family dog who was doing something cute but ultimately futile.

"You're the type who hates Trace Adkins but's never heard of David Allan Coe," he raised an eyebrow, then nodded to Jeff and Gareth, holding out a hand to shake with each of them. "Name's Steve. Good to meet you guys."

"Jeff," "Gareth," his bandmates parroted back, easy as breathing, while Eddie was still stuck on Harrington's little dig about the artists he was or wasn't aware of.

"You do most of the song work, don't you Munson?" he was asked, and Eddie belatedly realized he hadn't actually accepted Harrington's handshake. It was too late now, so he kind of awkwardly answered in the affirmative and watched that hand get pulled back and settled onto Harrington's other hip, so the man was standing almost like a judgy mother hen as he kept talking. "I've been kind of obsessed with Dark Sheep lately -especially the way you captured sexuality in 'Something On Your Tongue'; like how it's all about being confident, and whether it's a stranger at a club or working a job, the narrator's attracted to them in a way that's not gross to listen to. I mean, 'I love the way you dance with anybody' as a line is pretty refreshing when you think about it and... oh. Sorry," Harrington trailed off and turned a little pink, ducked his head. "Didn't mean to ramble on there."

Steve Harrington listened to Hellfire's music? Eddie blinked and the guy was still in front of him, looking earnest as a slice of apple pie or whatever the fuck, and he mentally shook himself. 'King' Steve Harrington listened to his music enough to have an opinion on it, on specific songs from their last record, and he came out the end of it liking his lyrics?

"Dude, get it together," Gareth whispered and elbowed him in the ribs, jolting him out of his fugue.

"Didn't think that was your thing, Harrington," Eddie ran his mouth with the first thought that came to mind, even if it was kind of dickish. "Sexual liberation ain't exactly very prayerful of you," he made the sign of the cross on that last part.

Far from what he expected, that got Harrington to bark out a big, surprised laugh. "Oh, c'mon," he rolled his eyes. "You can't seriously think I'm in with the god squad? They were most of why we left Tiger Studios in the end. Besides," Harrington flashed a charming smile, pearly whites matching the pearl buttons below on his shirt. "It'd be pretty hypocritical of me to preach against sexual lib, considering."

What the hell did that mean? Was it just his brain pulling tricks on him, or did Harrington's eyes flick up and down Eddie's body right then -and where the hell had Gareth and Jeff gone? They were supposed to be his buffer against his least favourite genre, not -ah, there they were -not chatting up the other members of Harrington's little ensemble across the room.

"Consider me told, then. You ain't godly whatsoever, I'll be sure not to disparage your sterling reputation again with that mistake, my liege, cross my heart," Maybe he was laying it on thick here, but there was something about Steve Harrington that got his pulse up; when the other man tilted his head with a baffled smile at Eddie's statement, he had to clench his fist hard so he didn't just -well, he wasn't actually sure. "But I think without the god talk that just makes you a hick, big boy, sexually liberated or otherwise. Is that better or worse?"

Maybe Harrington was just pissing him off with his... everything. His shit genre and his cocky attitude and the way he dressed to impress, it was cringey at best and edging on pretentious at worst. Eddie crossed his arms and scowled, annoyed with this damn situation of having to navigate a whole new set of people in the studio when he was already behind in his work and had no fucking clue how to fix-

"Hicks make some good music, Munson," Harrington said, sounding all kinds of condescending about it. "Especially these days, if you know where to look. Sounds to me like you're a little musically pigeonholed," Eddie went ramrod straight as Harrington threw that accusation in his face, and he felt his cheeks go hot in offense. Harrington smirked, noticing. "But hey, I'm always down to help out if you wanted to explore your options."

Musically. Pigeonholed. Musically pigeonholed!

"Fat chance of that, boots," Eddie swung his foot forward and knocked toes with Harrington, fancy brown tops against Eddie's scuffed workman's. "Sounds to me like the crown's too tight on your head after dropping contract. When you can write a song that's not about beer and trucks and girls, give me a shout, okay? Maybe I'll even give it a listen."

Steve's smirk turned a shade meaner, and he was probably going to say something really nasty -figures -when he got clapped on the back by a big man in a hawaiian shirt and with a thick beard, holding a martini of all things.

"Woah, kids, tone it down a notch. We're here to have a good time," the guy said, part patronizing and part stern -it was a weird combination. "Especially you, Discount Dio. Take it easy on the new guys or I'll ask Wayne to break out the baby photos, tout de suite."

Oh, so this was Murray. Wayne's mysterious drinking buddy who just so happened to be one of the artists who bailed along with Harrington. Eddie had no doubt he'd make good on the threat -not that he needed it, exactly. The interruption seemed to have taken the wind out of both his and Harrington's sails, if the way the guy looked embarrassed was any indication.

"Sorry, Murray," Harrington said, and Murray rolled his eyes.

"Just relax, kid. None of these guys are Hargrove, or even Carver Jr for that matter," he shook Harrington's shoulder a little, and shot Eddie an odd look. "Even the ones that growl and snap at you are just Chihuahuas. And you, puppy," he snapped his fingers in Eddie's face, making him flinch back in surprise. Also, offended -puppy? "I think you've got a hot head right now, so you should remember you know better than to shit on music you've never listened to. Don't you?"

Fuck, damn his big mouth. He felt his cheeks go tight with embarrassment, and he cut a look at Harrington. They were both close to thirty and yet here they were feeling like scolded children.

"Shouldn't have said that, Harrington. Sorry," he offered, ash in his throat. The guy looked surprised, but nodded, accepting, and Murray threw his hands up, sarcastically relieved.

"Thank god! Now come on, join the party," he hooked a hand around Eddie's neck and used his martini arm to bump Harrington forward.

The country boy looked at him one last time before seeming to shrug off their entire interaction, a fake expression of cheer getting plastered on after a flash of disappointment. Why he was disappointed was anybody's guess; maybe he'd thought Eddie would be more repentant in his apology.

Fat chance of that. Musically pigeonholed his ass.

Eddie sighed, flexing his hand, and readied himself to push through a few more hours of socializing. Internally he apologized to Hopper, too -a productive working relationship with the country club didn't seem like it was in the cards for him.

=<+>=

I keep a running list of songs referenced in the notes on AO3 -I don't do tag lists!

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #musician au #country star #rock star #fic #fanfic #st fanfic #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #hurt/comfort #cross posted on ao3

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multifan2022 · 1 year ago

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Golden Lies 7

Im gonna apologize now..

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6

My Masterlist

The next morning when you woke up, Hardin had laid you down and was gathering all of your things. You were tucked into the sleeping bag, and Hardin had his jeans and sweater on. The temp had dropped again overnight, everything around you looked frosted. “It got colder last night, probably down in the twenties. I think they are hoping people will freeze to death, or their bodies go into shock from the temperature difference. Thankfully we are used to it.”

Hardin's words were soft, like he was worried about spooking you. You nodded, standing and rolling the bag up. Your jeans were thrown on before you stood and looked around. Your mind was slightly scrambled still but you were doing your best to not show it. “We should move, we need to find some water to clean you off so we can treat your cuts again.” Hardin said as he slowly reached for your hand, he was thankful when you didn't flinch away from him.

Just like the day before, it got hotter and hotter. The grass around you was now dead and brown. The leaves falling from the trees as they dried up, meaning shady spots were far and few between. You held your jackets up to shield yourself from the sun when you could, but you were getting tired. Your shoulders and cheeks were starting to turn red and burn, but more importantly you were dehydrated.

The one bottle of water Haymitch had sent was long gone. By the time the sun was high in the sky you could hear babbling. You both walked faster as you found a pond, small in comparison to the Superior Waters (Lake Superior) that you lived near. But it didn't matter, you leaned down and smelled the water, relieved to realize it was fresh. When Hardin went to dunk his head you stopped him, your mind turning slowly.

“We have no way to know it's not poisoned, and even if it's not it could have bacteria that would kill us faster than the lack of water.” You sat back trying to figure out what to do as a now familiar beeping was heard. You looked up blinded by the sun as a parachute slowly fell from the sky.

When you opened it you found another note and water purifying tablets. ‘Drink up, Look around.’ It didn't take you but a few seconds to start looking for your canteen. Two tablets, two now full bottles of water, two semi hydrated tributes. Once you cooled down slightly from the cold water the second part of the note came back to your mind.

You stood looking around, Haymitch obviously could see something he thought would help you. It took a long time, but eventually you saw a black hole. “It looks like there's an opening over there, maybe it's a cave? A cave would be cooler than out here, but we would have to swim across..” You talked out loud as you thought.

Hardin didn't have time to speak before you were pushing your jeans off and toeing your boots off. Your body plunged under the water and thankfully it was clear enough for him to watch you swim over. After a few minutes you swam back and smiled up at him. “It's a cave, it's empty. I'll take our stuff over there so it doesn't get wet. Watch for anyone then you can follow me.”

The cave had helped tremendously. Your bodies cooled down out of the sun, and the rock floor felt amazing. Another bottle of water and some of the rations made you feel like you were at the peak of your strength. Well what strength you were going to have after being in here for who knows how long.

Hardin had fallen asleep, as you watched the cave's mouth, listening for any signs that someone was in the water. There was only a small lip that kept the water out of the cave, any change in the water outside would result in water falling to the rock floor inside. An easy give away for anyone hiding inside.

He had been acting distant and twitchy all day, like he was trying to hide something from you. The entire day and yesterday he wouldn't walk in front of you, always behind. He was quiet too, almost too quiet. But you figured maybe watching you smash Bauers face in had traumatized him. Maybe he was looking at you differently and now didn't know how to talk to you.

But when he started mumbling and it was all slurred together your heart sank. You flew off the ground and over to him, your jeans ripping a little as you fell to the ground next to him. “Hardin.. Hardin wake up.” You said as you rolled him over, shaking him and tapping his face. When his dark brown eyes opened they were glossy and lost looking.

You shook your head as tears started to fall, you hadn't seen him look this lost since he first got sick. Your hands trembled as you grabbed his bag, ripping things out as you looked for the gold bag. When you didn't find it you started emptying his pockets, “Where is it.. WHERE IS IT!” You yelled your voice echoing off the cave walls.

Haymitch looked down, his eyes stinging slightly. He had watched Hardin take his last pill three days ago. Even though it only seemed like 6 days in the arena it had been almost 10 since you lifted from your tube. Hardin had stretched his 5 pills out to last 7 days without realizing it. He figured the boy just took it when his body told him too, but the last one had been 3 days ago.

He had begged and pleaded with the game makers to do the feast early. But they said no, there were still 8 districts in play, it was too early. Then he had begged to allow more medication as a sponsor gift, but was again denied. That time he was told if he didnt let it go he would lose his clearance to work for your district at all. And he couldnt afford to lose that, so he was forced to let it go.

He and Chaff watched as Hardin grabbed your hand and shook his head. He had a sad smile on his face as he wiped tears from your cheeks. “You're going to have to kill me.” Haymitches head dropped to his hands, he knew that this would be the breaking point for you. This would either kill you, or give you the final push to win. When he heard the disbelief and pain in your voice, he was worried it would be what killed you.

“What did you just say?!!?” You said in disbelief, shaking your head as you pushed yourself up off the ground. Hardin sat up, his head spinning as he closed his eyes. He knew what he was asking was horrible, but he had too. He had to make you understand that this was the only way.

“Y/n.. I ran out of pills.. I don't even know how many real days it's been since I took one. I'm starting to hallucinate.. I don't want to die slowly. It's the only way.”

You scoffed and looked at him, “Oh my god you're serious..” You watched him look at you with pleading eyes. “No.. No I won't do it.. If I can find the other tributes.. If I can get rid of more of them, we can make it till the feast. They might give you more during the feast..” You were rambling, you knew that, but your mind was trying to do anything but think about him dying.

“There's.. There's what nine.. Ten people left? 7 maybe 8 districts.. If I can find the girls from 2, 6 and 7 and the boy from 8 that will drop it down to 4 districts and they can do the feast with 4.. That's what I'll do.. I'll start hunting, you stay here.” You walked over, throwing your shirt on and checking your bag as Hardin's hand grabbed your wrist.

“Don't ask this of me.. It's too much..” Your voice cracked at the end as he stopped you from leaving. You looked up at him, both of you had tears in your eyes. He bit his lip, trying to think of what he could say to make you think straight.

“If you leave, and I start to hallucinate again, I could try to leave. I would drown or someone would find me stumbling around the woods like I did back home.” He grabbed your face and forced you to look at him when you turned back to your bag. “What If I'm here hallucinating and someone gets in and kills me. They could then wait and by the time you realized someone was in here it would be too late. You could win this, but you're gonna have to go on without me.”

You shook your head as it fell to his chest, his arms wrapped around you. You felt his lips press against your head as he squeezed. “I'm sorry.. I tried holding off on taking them.. I think I probably stretched it a few days. I only had 5 to start with, not ten like I said. If I'm going to die, I would prefer it to be quick and by your hands.. Don't let them kill me. Don't let this sickness kill me..”

It was quiet between the two of you for a while, you knew he had made his mind up. And you knew he was right, you couldn't leave him on his own. You definitely didn't want the careers finding him, they would drag it out. Make their own game of killing him. When you pulled away you nodded and spoke softly, “Lets go.. See if we can find somewhere to watch the sunrise like we do at home..”

The two of you made your way from the cave, walking silently trying to find a cliff or an edge that overlooked the arena. When you walked the trees started to thin and the world seemed to start to shimmer. You had no idea what was happening, as the game makers changed the arena around you.

There was constant information coming in about how the citizens of the Capitol wanted the games to go. It helped the Game makers change things around to appease them. They knew when things were getting too boring, or who they were hoping would win. Who they didn't like, and who they wanted gone.

And right now, there was a lot of sympathy going around for the Capitols ‘Little Goddess’.

So Morel Pitpetal, the lead game maker, had decided to set the scene. He pulled up what a sunrise from district 9 looked like. He found that the part of the district you lived in was right on Superior waters. And he had to admit that the sunrise there was one of the best he had ever seen. Maybe even better than the ones here in the Capitol.

So he started taking trees out of your path, leading you to a clearing filled with large rocks. When you reached it your breath stopped. “This looks just like back home..” Hardin said as he looked up at the sky, even though he knew it was the middle of the day the sun was rising again. Trees behind the two of you, and a rocky cliff with waves splashing up in front of you. (picture up top, is actually Lake Superior #GoMichigan)

You sat down, trying to even out your breathing. You were trying to force yourself into whatever part turned on when you killed someone. It felt like you had two personalities, the one that hated being here.. And the one that was born for this. The second one being what you needed right now.

As the sun unnaturally rose, orange, pink and purple filled the sky as you and your best friend watched the waves crash onto the rocks. It was silent, in a comfortable way. But you knew you needed to get on with it, the game makers wouldn't let you just sit here. Hardin knew that too, because as you stood up he spoke softly. “Remember that spot we found on the beach? The part that we weren't technically supposed to be at?”

“This is going to be heartbreaking.. I can't imagine how this must feel for her.”

“Yeah.. I remember..” You said as you moved to stand behind him, you placed your hands on his shoulders. Tears filled your eyes as you looked out over the water. You were surprised to feel how relaxed Hardin's body was, like he had fully accepted it was his time. “I know you cant really bury me.. But put something there so it's always marked for us.. And try to win, don't let this be what gets you killed.. Please..”

You nodded, even though he couldn't see it. You knew this needed to be fast, and done perfectly to prevent him from suffering. If you did it wrong his brain would fight for his body to recover and it would take him at least two minutes for his brain to start to turn off from lack of oxygen. If you did this wrong, he would suffer in silence for the last five minutes of his life.

But if you did it correctly, up and at just the right angle you could sever his spinal cord. This would result in instant death, which is what you needed to happen. “I love you Hardin.. You're the brother I never got to have.. I don't know how I'll go on without you.. But I promise to try.”

He sniffled a little, knowing he wouldn't get to see whatever happened next in your life. He just hoped that there really was an afterlife for people like his mom had always said. "You and I will meet again, when we're least expecting it, one day in some far off place, I will recognize your face, I won't say goodbye my friend, for you and I will meet again."

You didn't give yourself the chance to start crying. Nor did you give him the chance to speak again, afraid that whatever he said next would break you. Side stepping quickly, one hand landed on his cheek running down to his chin just as the other reached the top of his head. Pulling down with your left arm and pushing up with the right, it took all your strength before you heard it.

CRACK

Haymitch, Chaff, Mags, Finnick, Cashmere, Brutus, President Snow, Seneca Crane, all the game makers and everyone watching at home watched as you slowly lowered Hardin's body to the ground. They could all see you shaking as you reached for his neck, checking for a pulse.

When the cannon went off alerting you to the death of your friend, they all watched you vomit into the water. They watched as you sobbed loudly, screaming in pain as you clutched your chest. This was a feeling none of them knew, Mags was crying into her hands.

Sure the victors had all killed people, they were all winners of the games. Each of them had blood on their hands, but never like this. Never had any of them had to mercy kill someone, never killed someone they grew up with.

The pain in your scream was something different then the pain of winning this game. Something different than the pain of being sold for others pleasure. All of their hearts went out to you, Finnick couldn't imagine killing Mags. Enobaria didn't really like Brutus, but never thought about killing him.

Haymitch knew he would rather die than kill Chaff. Cashmere would never ever be able to kill Gloss. But here was an 18 year old girl, who had killed 3 other people to protect someone. Someone she ended up having to kill in the end anyways. The only thing that they could think after that was that if someone else won, it wouldn't be as deserved as if you did.

Seneca Crane watched with three other men from inside his apartment. They all looked at each other, nodding with sadistic grins. It had finally been decided between the four of them, they would do what needed to be done to get this girl out of the arena.

She was the one they had been waiting for.. And they wouldn't wait any longer.

And with that, Crane stood, straightened his jacket and went to find Haymitch Abernathy.

@avis15 @liballer @avoxrising

#hunger games finnick #finnick imagine #finnick x oc #finnick odair #finnick x reader #the hunger games fic

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unamused-boss · 11 months ago

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Boots and Trumpets

Robin Buckley x Hargrove Oc

Warning, Strong topics: homophobia, child abandonment, troubled sibling relationship, child abuse, underage drinking, Homophobic language, strong language

I will not tolerate any negativity in the comments regarding sexuality or religion!

Summary: Amelia is now facing new challenges within Hawkins. One being her having the miss her friend Tina's annual Halloween party. So to counter for what she thought would be a boring night, she stopped by a little birdie's house instead.

I are currently sitting inside your shared ride with Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington. I had the pleasure to have the whole back seat to myself, with my boots propped up onto the window opposite of your head. My baggy washed out jeans hanging from my ankles with my golden colored sweater tucked into my jeans with a brown belt.

“Steve, the more you complain about it and not work on it the more it’s going to suck.” I said to him after hearing him complain about his college essay for the past fifteen minutes.

“It’s not bad Steve, it just needs some rearranging.” Nancy reassured. “You just have to…” Nancy went onto this thing about how he can fix it but I truly did not care. They went onto something else about some dinner that they had to go to. Everything came to a halt when a roar of an engine stopped every word that was about to be exchanged. Both Nancy and Steve stepped out of the car to have a look at the noise while I only peered out of the window. We all saw a charged blue Camaro drive by us and parked. Our eyes still followed to see who owned it. My eyes made contact with the California plate on the back of it.

“What are the odds..” I laughed, I’m kinda happy another Cali kid is here. Maybe I can make a new friend. Two people got out of the car, a dude wearing denim on denim with curly hair styled into a mullet and a twelve year old with red hair with a skateboard. They both looked familiar. But then I saw it, it was the missing earring to my set that I had when I left in California. I thought it fell out when I was packing my bags.

“No fucking way…” I said in shock. ‘Out of every town in this country, you just had to show up here…’

“Shit.”

You gotta be fucking kidding me. Out of every damn state that those asswhips could pick. They pick my state. Indi-fucking-ana. I can’t handle this. I'm gonna throw up. I don’t have the energy to go find a new place to live. I can’t let any of them see me. I can’t live through this. This has to be some sort of nightmare. A really bad nightmare. God I didn’t change my last name either. Everyone is going to know. He’s going to figure it out and I’ll be thrown in front of a flippin bus. What am I going to do?

“Hey!” An all to perky Tina jumped up at me while I was at my locker. “How are you Amy?”

God, here it begins.

“What’s up…” My voice sounds frazzled, get it together. “I’m fine. What do you need?”

“Well as you know by now there is a new hot topic on campus.” Tina grinned.

“Yeahh.” I answered clearly to most with no enthusiasm, but not to Tina. “What does he have to do with me?”

“Well. I was hoping you could hook me up with your cousin!”

“Cousin? No he is not my cousin, we are no were near related.”

“Really?” She seemed not to believe me. “You guys just look really similar, I mean if you never took your sunglasses off I’d think you were him.” She obviously meant it as a joke. I can tell by the light giggle that she gave after making her comment.

“Well we’re not so I can’t help you there.” I stated blankly to her. “Hope you’re able to get in his pants.” I tried to end the conversation there but I was stopped.

“Hey wait!” I turned back to face Tina, who had pulled out an orange slip of paper. “Here you're invited, hope you can make it.” She said before skipping away to her next class. I looked down at the flier to see ‘ Let’s get sheet faced’ printed in bold on it. I laugh a bit at the play on words before folding it and putting it in my pocket. ‘I am skipping school today’ I made my way to the back exit of the school when a light force knocked me a few steps back.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry, that was completely my fault. Please don’t yell at me, I’m just trying to get to chem.” A familiar frantic voice called out to me. Robin Buckley.

“Robin, it’s okay.” I reassured her.

“Are you sure? Cause listen if that scary dude is related to you please don’t send him my way.” She begged.

I huffed. “I’m not related to him, Robin, don’t worry. I’m playing hooky, I’ll catch ya later… hopefully?” I say. I start walking past her to the free world from Hawkins High School

“Yeah, to-totally.” The faint voice of Robin can be heard from the closing doors.

…

Halloween Night: Friday 31, 1984

“Listen Tina, I can’t make it.” I told the bummed girl over that phone. “I’m sorry, I’ll come to the next party you throw.” I reassured her.

“But why are you flaking out on the Halloween bash! You never miss this specific party in the few years that I have known you.” That is true. Once you went to Tina’s annual halloween party you’ve never missed it. But that is changing this year. Being that your twin brother and step sister now live here, there is going to be a lot more flaking then just at the halloween party.

“Tina I told you, I’m taking Will trick or treating with his friends tonight.” You told her once again. “We can do a sleepover some time next week… okay.”

“Okay.” I heard her sigh, “I see ya around.”

“See ya later Tina.” I hung up the yellow landline. I walk over to the livingroom to see Will fixing his ghostbusters costume.

“I still can’t believe no one else dressed up this year.” Will said sadly, “Everyone dressed up last year.”

“It’s okay Will, they just think they're too cool to dress up.” I reassured the small kid. In the back you can hear Bob explaining to Johnathan how the camera works when Joyce came behind Will with his, whatever it is, backpack for his costume.

“Listen, stay close to your brother and Amy, and you get a bad feeling just tell them so you can come straight home.” Joyce told him. “You promise.” Will gave her a thumbs up. “Okay.”

“You ready to rock and roll, Will the wise.” I smiled down at him.

“Be safe.” Joyce shouted out to us, mainly to Will. We all got into the car. Jonathan driving, Will in the passenger seat, and with me in the back. We start to make our way over to Mike’s neighborhood.

“I just don’t get what she sees in him.” Jonathan says all of a sudden.

“What?” Will answered in utter confusion.

“Bob.”

“At least he doesn’t treat me differently.” Will said. “I can’t even go trick or treating by myself. It’s lame.”

“What, you think me and Johnathan are lame?” I said, trying to lighten his mood.

“No, but it’s not like Nancy is coming to watch over Mike. You know?” Jonathan just sighs. He looks at me from the mirror. I give him the same look. We both feel bad for the kid, but what are we gonna do? I don’t want anything to happen to Will. Sooner than later we are at Mike’s front yard. Will makes his way to get out till Johnathan stops him.

“Hey.” Jonathan says to Will.

“Yeah.” He answers.

“If I let you go by yourself, will you promise to stay in the neighborhood.” Johnathan suggested.

“Yeah.” Will’s mood brightened up. “Yeah-Yeah, totally.”

“And be back at Mike’s by 9:00.” Jonathan told him.

“9:30?” Will tried to persuade him. “9:00.” Jonathan said again.”Deal?” “Yeah deal.” Will rushes out of the car to go to his friends.

“Will.” Jonathan stops him from leaving the car to hand him the camera. “Don’t let any of your spazzy friends touch this.” Will laughed and took the camera to go over to his friends.

“You’re a good brother John.” I smiled at him. “I’ll see ya later.” As is tried to get out of the car but Jonathan stopped me.

“Wait where are you going?”

“I don't know, I’ll probably walk around the neighborhood.” I said. “I got a friend down that street.”

“You’re really not going to Tina’s party?” He was bewildered by this.

“Yeah John, I’m really not going.”

“But you love Tina’s parties.” He simply stated.

“Well I’m not feeling it this year.” I told him.

“Bullshit.” He called. “Why aren’t you going?”

“I just don’t want to go.” I’m sticking to this. “I have someone I can hang out with, plus I’ll be close to Will if something happens.” John and I just stare at each other for a minute.

“Okay.” He sighed. “But if Nancy gets upset that you’re not there, I’m not taking the heat.”

“Okay.” I smiled at him as I got out of the car. I walked my way over to where the boys were messing around as John left for Tina's party. “Okay turd-nuggets.” I begin.

“Really, what are you twelve?” Mike sassed.

“And are you a lollipop with that stick up your ass?” I sassed back to him, I start back up were I was interrupted. “I will be down that street with a friend, I will be back her at 8:45 to make sure you guys are fine. Okay?”

A chorus of “Okay’s” filled the air.

“Great! See you shit-heads later.” I walk off a familiar bird’s house. I walk up the stairs to the front door and give it a quick knock. I wait until the door opens.

“Amelia?” Robin says confused. “What are you doing here?”

“ I was hoping we could hang out for a bit.” I suggested. “Is that okay?”

“Oh! It’s completely fine!” She exclaimed, “I just thought you'd be at some party.”

“I didn’t feel like partying tonight, ya know.” I made my way into her house.

…

Tina’s Halloween Party: Friday 31, 1984

The party was in full swing. TP covering the lights of every room. Alcohol filling the mouths and noses of every teenager on the property. Music blasting as loud as physically possible. Someone throwing up in the front yard. The smell of weed coming from the master bedroom with each new blunt that was lit. The sound of a name being chanted in the backyard. A keg stand can be seen with an all too familiar blonde on top, like always.

“Billy! Billy! Billy! Billy! Billy! Billy! Billy! Billy! Billy! Billy!” Is chanting through the crowd as the new keg king came down from his stand. Spitting out that remaining beer from his mouth.

“That’s how you do it Hawkins! That’s how you do it!” Billy yelled. The statement “We have a new keg king, ladies and gentleman!” Being shouted along as Billy made his way into the house. His senses are filled with the atmosphere of the room. Till he sees a certain fallen king with his princess.

“Got ourselves a new keg king Harrington.” Tommy boasted.

“Yeah, eat it Harrington!” Steve looked onto the, now new, keg king. Waiting for something to happen.

“What’s wrong Harrington? Your little dyke is not here to save you.” Tommy fake whined to him. As a way to taunt him. Tommy was about to keep laughing when he felt beer splash over his shoulder. “What the? What the hell Tina?!”

“Don’t call her that!” Tina shouted at him “If she was here she’d leave you crying.”, too drunk to keep dealing with him but still wanting to defend her friend. Nancy, now done with the testerone in front of her, quickly left to get something stronger to drink. Tommy is now pissed that he is covered in pungent drink.

“Go worry about yourself before you come at me guys.” Was all Steve said then walking away from the other teenage boys. Staring off at the brunette as he went after his girlfriend.

Billy turned himself around to face Tommy. “How were you talking about that got Tina mad?” He asked, genuinely curious about the lesbian that was not present tonight at the party of the semester.

“Oh. Just some lesbo that hangs with Harrington.” Tommy retorted, making it seem like she isn’t worth Billy’s time. “She can be a fucking asshole.”

…

Laughter filled the Buckley house this Halloween. The two girls conversed with one another for the past few hours. Being comfortable with one another knowing how the other truly is.

“Wait.” Robin kept laughing. “You got caught kissing Heather Halloway from her bedroom window then proceeded to fall from the second story?!”

“Yeaah, I’m not welcomed over at the Holloway house any more.” I giggled.

“Jeez, you’ve done more than I thought.” Robin smiled. “I’m still scared to change in the girls locker room.”

“Hey I’m the town lesbo.” I calmly giggled.

We fell into comfortable silence, “Hey, I wanna ask you something?” Robin asked.

“Sure.” I said, waiting for her question.

“What was California like?” I sat silent for a second. Due to my silence Robin thought she had hit a nerve. “If you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to!”

“It’s okay, I just haven't talked with anyone about California.” I reassured her. “ It was like a constant sunset everyday…” I started.

“The weather was always perfect. And the beaches, oh my god the beaches. They were always clear. I lived in Santa Monica, very touristy but beautiful.” I was happy I could finally talk about my home again. “Ugh that sand was so soft under your toes when you walked. And there was this boardwalk that my mom took me and my brother to all that time-”

“You have a brother?” Robin asked curiously.I stopped. ‘No I messed up’.

“Yeah.” I frowned.

“Do- Do you miss him?” Robin asked.

“Everyday… but I hope he’s living the California dream as you guys would say.” I covered my truth with a lie. Not wanting her to know that my brother is here in Hawkins.

“Well from how to describe California, it sounds beautiful.” She reassured me.

I stared back at her with a smile. “Thanks Robin.” Silence filled the room again. Comfortable silence. I liked being around Robin, even with her nervous attitude, she was truly one of a kind. I was about to say something when I glanced at the clock of the wall to find it was close to the time I told the boys I would meet them.

“I gotta go.” I sighed disappointedly, “But I’d love to spend more time together.” I am hoping her answer is a yes.

“Yeah, I would love that! Well not like love-love, but do love being around you. Not in like a couple ways cause that would be weird since we’re just friends. Yaaa know.” She panicked.

“I know Rob.” I smirked, “I’ll see you at school later.”

As we said our goodbyes, I made my way down the street to see the boys. I saw the familiar ghostbuster’s suits from where I was. I could tell that they picked someone up along the way to go trick or treating with. ‘How cute, they made a new friend’. There were two stragglers in the back of the group, by the hair cuts I could tell that it was Mike and Will. I did a small jog over to them.

“Hey shit-heads!” I yelled to them, all their heads slowly turning to me as I made my way over to them. “Did you guys get anything good?”

“What Amy, why are you here?” Mike complained.

“Cause it is close to 9:00 and I want to check on you guys, is that so bad?”

“Yes.” He answered.

“Okay you know what, you're a little shit.” I said to him, “Besides who’s your new?... friend…”

Fuck.

It appears that we have the same looks on our faces. I stared at Max. She stared back at me.

“Shit…” I accidently said out loud.

“Do you know Max, Amy?” Lucas asked me.

I took a deep breath in. “No.” I said simply. “Listen, hit up a few more houses, I’ll come get you in a minute.”

“Where are you-” Dustin started.

“I need a minute guys!” I shouted at them, walking over to Mike’s front yard. Dammit, why. Why! The last person I want to see is with the kids I watch. Shit. This is bad. She can’t tell Niel. No, she can’t tell Billy. Would they even believe her if she told them? Shit, what do I do? I was taken out of my head when a very upset Mike walked by me. I was about to ask him if he was okay when I heard a commotion in the street. I look over to see Will being picked on by some older boys.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing!” I shout at them as I run over to them. “Get back here you fuck heads!” They ran away the minute I had my eyes set on them. Will was pushed to the ground, dropping his candy and camera. I kneel down to him, “Hey Will, are you okay?” I calmly asked him. “Did they hurt you?” I kept asking. Will was not responding what so ever. He just kept looking up at the sky, like something was looking at him. “Will?... Will!” He started to get up slowly, still not answering me. He started to move slowly. Till he ran straight to the back of Mike’s house. “Will!” I shouted after him, grabbing his candy and camera. The other apparently heard me since I heard multiple pairs of feet behind me. I made my way down some brick stairs to find Mike with Will hiding behind a wall.

“Will! I couldn’t find you.” Mike panicked with worry. “I heard Amy shouting then I couldn’t find you, are you hurt?” Due to Will’s heavy breathing I could tell what was up.

“Holy shit!” Dustin yelled.

I kneeled down to his level looking him in the eyes. “Did you have another episode Will?” He was still looking around like a scared cat. “I’m gonna get you home, okay buddy.” Mike made his way to help Will up. When others tried to help he called them off. Blocking off the rest of us to take Will with him.

“Mike?” Dustin tried.

“Keep trick or treating, I’m bored anyways.” He started taking Will with him.

“What’s wrong with him?” Max asked, looking to us for an answer. The boys and I were silent, nothing to say.

“It’s something you don’t have to worry about.” I told her. “Dustin, Lucas go up there for a minute. I need to talk with her.”

“What! Why?” They both started to complain.

“I don’t want to hear it. Go!” I hardly ever get stern with them, but when I do I hope they know I mean what I say. They both, begrudgingly, made their way up the stairs. I turn myself back to Max.

“Max.”

“Amelia.”

“I go by Amy now…” Well this is awkward.

“What did you want?” She asked me, quit literally over me already.

“You can’t tell Billy I’m here or anyone.” I told her.

“What? Why not?” She was baffled. “Do you not know how much Billy misses you?”

“No Max I don’t, because I’ve been here for the past 4 years.” I stated. “Just please don’t tell him, and don’t tell anyone that we’re related. Got that.”

“Yes.”

“Good. As far as me and you go, we just met. Okay?”

“Okay.” She said a bit quietly. “Now let’s get you back up there with your friends so you can enjoy the rest of the night.” I take her back up to Dustin and Lucas. And since Johnathan isn’t here by 9:00, looks like I’m stuck here.

Jeez, the next month is gonna be a shit show. Max knows I’m here now. Johnathan is nowhere in sight. On top of that my twin brother is here too. Hopefully this can’t get any worse than it already is.

Man. I was so wrong about that…

Hello! I hope you enjoyed this part of the story! Also so sorry for my absents, I know you guys are wanting fics/stories. All I ask is that you be patient with me, thank you. If you have any kind of feed back I would love to hear it. And please tell me what you think of Robin and Amelia's interactions together.

I always love good feedback!

Thank you for reading and have a great Christmas!

@meowiemari

@b1tchy3lf

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heyidkyay · 2 years ago

Text

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name

Part Nine

A/n: This part's a little longer than the others, but it just ended up turning out that way, I started writing it over the course of the weekend and kept adding to it I suppose:) Hope you enjoy x

Also! Look back to my recent post if you'd like to see what Birdie and George see in the beginnings of this part!

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Masterlist

Somehow we’d managed to find ourselves down by the canals, a portion of chips shared between the two of us from the nearby chippy, watching as all the houseboats sailed in.

Honestly, it all felt a little too much like the old days. When I would complain about there not being enough salt to counter the vinegar and George wrinkling his nose at the lack of ketchup.

But even with the ache I felt as we went through the motions, neither one of us commenting on the familiarity of it all, I still couldn’t bring myself to regret following after him. I mean, if I hadn’t then I’d just be sat at home, wallowing in self-pity, letting myself spiral over thoughts of him, and my mum, and life in general.

Here I was though. By his side.

And it was strange, because last week, if anyone had told me that I’d be here, with George of all people, I’d probably have laughed in their face.

But I guess it was sort of funny how much time could change things.

“Oi, leave it out, would you.” George muttered grumpily as he swatted my hand away from the sauce staining the side of the takeaway box. “You don’t even like ketchup.”

I scoffed at him, pursing my lips and picking up another chip to swipe through his precious red sauce just because I could. “I do- ’s just not my favourite.”

He rolled his eyes at my shrug, then pulled the box closer towards him. I glared halfheartedly. “Still, I fucking asked for it so you can piss off.”

“What and eat my chips dry?”

George just enlarged his eyes to show how little he cared about the issue at hand and shoved another two into his massive gob. I raised a brow.

“Twat.” I mumbled, but couldn’t stop myself from smiling like an idiot when his foot nudged my ankle.

We sat quietly then, just chewing away, and I diverted my gaze downwards to where our legs were dangling freely, just swinging in perfect time to the water’s current below. George’s big black boots and the vintage Reebok’s Matty had thrown at me the previous Christmas reflecting back up at us.

The canals were typically quite popular the farther upstream you got, especially during the day. But if you knew where to look, you could hide away from the rest of the city for as long as you pleased. Only having to deal with the braver lot of carp and the small boats which passed by.

George and I were currently tucked under a guardrail. One of those shitty ones that didn’t really do much ‘guarding’ and were mostly just bended poles of corroding metal- our arms were leant against its middle. He had the chip box propped on his left knee and there was now a small stain just beside it, blemishing his jeans from where I’d accidentally dropped a splodge of ketchup earlier.

George hadn’t minded in the least though, he’d merely licked his thumb and smudged it away, leaving me to nod dopily as he carried on with what he’d been saying. Him none the wiser whilst I’d struggled to advert my stare from his mouth. But when was he ever?

Time passed us by and my mind started to wander, ultimately I found myself wanting to ask him what he got out of all this. Out of today, I supposed. Because really, all of this had been his idea. From meeting up in the first place and having me tagalong to the pub, to us sat right here. Reenacting old memories like nothing was awry.

I happened to sniff then, the cold evening air had always had a knack for making my nose run, but there George was handing me over a napkin as though he’d been preparing for it. I stared at it for a second too long before I finally took it, thanking him softly. He just checked my shoulder in turn.

It all felt a little too perfect. Like the calm before a storm.

“You feelin’ any better?” George asked me round a bite as I stole another ketchup covered chip.

I glanced towards him, thinking it through, and decided on a shrug. “Reckon so.”

He merely hummed in reply, and so I did the same.

“How about you?”

The faint lines that worried his forehead deepened at my question, “What’d you mean?”

I chuckled under my breath already reaching back towards the box. “You.” I summarised, shaking my head softly at how lost he seemed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine?” George supplied with a tiny frown, phrasing his answer to sound more like a question. “Why you asking?”

“Am I not allowed to ask?” I shot back, resting my cheek against the arm which separated my face from the rail, feeling full now.

He thought about it, then jerked a shoulder, scraping the remnants of sauce from the side of the container. “No, you are. Just, I don’t know, didn’t expect it, is all.”

I continued to stare at him in wait, until he huffed and finally relented.

“‘M fine. Just worried about you, I ‘spose.”

It was my turn then to frown. “What you worrying about me for?”

George quirked an eyebrow at me, like I should’ve already known the answer to that question, but I kept my gaze steady. And in turn, he scrunched up his nose and sniffed, closing the chip box lid and placing it down somewhere on his other side so that he could shuffle more towards me.

“Truth?” He said, and I found myself startled by it.

It was just a word. One simple word, but it was ours. And the very mention of it had my heart wrenching in my chest as though he’d just gone and wrung it out like a wet towel to dry. Water puddling in the empty space between us where our legs should’ve met.

I forced myself to swallow down the sudden emotion and focus on him. Always on him.

“Truth.” I parroted back quietly, voice drifting in the open air, casting itself out like a line tethered to my soul and into the murky water of the canal. George’s dark brown eyes met mine.

“I’m scared you’ll drown.”

I blinked, eyes flitting between his own. Back and forth. Beyond confused.

“What?” I let go of an airy chuckle and tilted my head at him.

George just raised a hand, pulling a leg up from the towpath whilst he allowed the other to continue to dangle, bending it so he could better face me. “Just hear me out, yeah?”

Still a tad bewildered I merely nodded, unable to object.

“What I meant is,” He exhaled slowly, trying to piece together the puzzle of his mind.

I gave him the moment, knowing how much he preferred to gather his thoughts so that he could string them together clearly enough to get his point across. He wasn’t too fond of being misunderstood. Of people figuring that they knew what he meant, before he even did.

“I don’t know how to word it properly without you getting upset.” George licked at his lower lip, slouching slightly with his back to the guardrail. He seemed really worked up over it in truth, and almost thoughtlessly I found myself extending a hand out towards his knee. His stare flitted down towards it, but he didn’t pull away.

“I can’t promise it won’t upset me, but I’m a big girl, G. I can handle it, and if I can’t then I’ll let you know.” I assured him but I had to pull my hand away then, afraid that I was toeing a line I wasn’t too sure still existed after the way we’d ended things.

George worried the inside of his cheek but his stoney face gave away no note to his anxieties, eventually he dipped his head at me.

“I just- alright, I don’t want to dredge up the past, but I can’t help but think about how everything will affect you. Maybe not right now, but later on.” He spoke, “‘Cause I know you, Birdie. Better than most I’d like to think. And so I already know that once I head home, I’ll be up most of the night worrying over whether or not you’re actually doing okay, whether you’re still up too. Drowning in it all. ‘Cause even with everything that's happened between us, I still fucking care. You’ve got to know that much at least.”

He heaved a heavy breath out of his lungs and rubbed at his eyes before he casted a tired glance out over the canal, focusing on the mossy algae that lined its surface. But he wasn’t done there. No, that arrow he’d shot straight into my chest just had to splinter.

“And it killed me, you know. Seeing you fall apart today. Just at the simple fucking reminder of it all. Made me just want to take your hand and run.”

I stared at him. At the side of his face, the bridge of his nose, the fall of his lips. Eyes growing glossy and hands faintly shaking the longer I did so, trying to figure out what it was I was meant to say in response to that.

I had to use the second he gave me to figure my heart out.

“You can’t say things like that to me.”

George’s head snapped in my direction upon hearing my muted whisper, and his serious expression crumbled in the very same moment, having witnessed my own. He reached out, only to stop himself short before his hand could actually brush against the bone of my cheek, his stare never faulting, eyes trailing over the outline of where he should’ve been able to touch. Where he’d once been allowed to.

His hand stayed hovering there.

“You can’t, George.” I forced out, tears prickling my eyes again, nose tingling. I forced myself to turn my head, dragging down my sleeve to wipe at my face. “You don’t get to do that anymore.”

“Why? Why don’t I?” He stressed to me in a hushed breath and I could still feel the ghost of his touch. The brush of his fingers from where he used to tuck my hair behind my ear. The imprint of his thumb on my hip. His knuckles against my cheek. Mouth against my collar.

We were close now. Closer than we should have been. Because I could practically feel his warmth in the cold evening chill. His nose there, rubbing at my own. But I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let him in again. Not after all the shit he’d put me through before. Not when I still didn’t know why he’d ended things the way he had in the first place.

I let my eyes slip close but forced myself to pull away.

“Because you can’t treat me like an old friend, George. Like someone who’s indispensable to you.” I replied, grateful for the fact I couldn’t see his reaction to my pitiful words. “Someone who you can push and pull out. ‘Cause I can’t do that, not right now. Not with you. I can’t be your friend when all I really wanna do is forgive and forget. But you put me through hell, G. Fucking hell. And never once have you given me a reason as to why. I’ve spent the last six months just trying to work it out. Agonising over where I went wrong. But it wasn’t me that fucked this up in the first place. Was it?”

I struggled to reopen my eyes, to glance back up and look at his face. But eventually I did, and even though the sight of him practically rendered me frozen, I still found the strength to push back. To pull away. And I stood in that next moment, on shaky legs mind, only to look down at him. He stared back at me.

“Let me know what you want when you finally figure it out.”

—

Leaving him there, it’d been hard. But when had things ever gone right for me, when had life ever given me an easy go of it? And even though both my mind and my heart had been screaming at me to turn back- just turn back! I’d forced myself to go on. To struggle through it.

So by the time I made it home, it was a ten to eight and I had to withhold a sigh when I noticed that I’d left the lights on in my earlier hurry to get out of the front door.

My bottom lip was also torn and bitten from where I’d been chewing at it during the long walk back, trying not to think about the way I’d left things. Fretting over whether or not I’d done the right thing, made the best call. And so I could taste the distinct tang of blood when I tugged my house keys from the confines of my coat, feeling like a complete wreck as I climbed the steps just outside.

I came to an abrupt halt though when I found a figure settled in my doorway, back pressed to the frame and legs splayed out carelessly before them as their head lulled against the brickwork, eyes closed in a peaceful slumber.

I kicked at the foot closest to me and continued to stare down at the sleeping twat laid out on my front step.

Said twat startled awake and appeared to jump at the unexpected connection- which would’ve humoured me any other day, but it seemed as though this one had taken its toll on me. Or in short, it had shat on my bed and made me lie in it.

“What’re you doing here?” I finally found the strength to ask as I moved in closer.

The lump only groaned groggily in response, rubbing at the bridge of its nose. Then with a furrowed brow, looking this way then that, it tried to get ahold of its bearings as the rush of adrenaline flooded its sleep filled brain.

“Ross called.” Was all that Matty had to offer me as I stepped over him, fumbling to try and find the right key to fit my lock.

I’d figured as much.

“You were out late.” He added after he realised that I wouldn’t be offering up much of a reply, pulling himself to his feet. I titled my head over towards him with a blank expression as I worked the lock, only to find him smirking back at me.

With a small shake of my head, I opened the door and stepped through, quick to kick off my trainers and coat.

“How vigilant of you, Matthew.” I retorted in a vacant tone. Hollow enough for Matty to cut his eyes over at me, lips pursing as he slowly hung up his trench on the hook beside mine.

“You only ever call me that when you’re acting all pissy over something.”

I shrugged at him then padded into the kitchen, flicking on the light whilst I headed on over towards the sink. I heard his footfalls follow me a second later and glanced up to see him reappear in the doorway, eyeing me closely.

“Ross reckoned you were alright, said he’d left you with G outside the pub.”

I braced myself against the counter and turned to look out the window, seeing a whole lot of darkness greet me in return, enough that I could visibly make out my own reflection in the glass. I looked a state.

“I’m always alright, Matty.”

Then I turned on the tap and proceeded to fill a glass with water.

I must’ve have lost myself staring into space because the next thing I knew, Matty was beside me and turning off the flow of water. I blinked down at the half full basin then over towards him. He looked as tired as I felt.

“Thanks.” I mumbled, but he only frowned.

“What happened?”

Matty wasn’t the type to let anyone evade a question, he was stubborn to a fault, almost as bad as me. Which is why I already knew that he wouldn’t be letting this go anytime soon.

“I’m knackered, Matty. Can’t we just fall asleep watchin’ the tele and talk tomorrow?” I sighed but was met with a hardened stare. He only prompted me on further with a raised brow and so I huffed and slumped my way out of the kitchen.

He was like a stray pup though, licking at my heels, because he followed me in a minute after.

I’d already taken up my usual spot on the end of the L-shaped settee I’d bought when I’d first moved in. It’d been during my first trip out furniture shopping and George had been with me at the time- was actually the one to spot it in truth. I remembered how he’d plopped himself down in the very seat I was currently sat in and hadn’t budged until I was laughing away and telling the salesman that I’d take it.

I found myself smiling faintly at the memory. Only blinking it back to the place where it now resided, in a far corner of my mind, when Matty waved the glass I’d left in the kitchen in front of my face. I took it from him silently, thanking him with a tiny smile for having brought it in. He took the open spot beside me.

“Gon’ talk now?” He roused, cross-legged on my settee, dressed in a pair of bootcut jeans and an all too familiar hoodie.

“Real question is, why’ve you got on George’s jumper?” I digressed, pulling the remote out of the side of the arm so that I could switch on the tv. I didn’t need to ask though, we both knew how typical it was for all of the guys to swap and steal clothes from one another whilst on tour, Matt and G especially. But this was just the easiest way to stall him.

He peered down at his torso, frowned, then rolled his eyes. “Trust you to notice- but I don’t know. Mine now though, ain’t it?”

I snorted, flipping through channels. “How so?”

“Comfy.” Matty shrugged, then sort of seemed to realise what was happening and shook himself out of it. “Anyway,” He drawled, digging a knuckle into my thigh hard enough for me to kick at him to get him to stop, “Ow, you bitch. Will you just talk to me now? I only wanna know what’s happenin’ inside that mad head of yours.”

I scowled and slapped at the finger he’d used to poke my temple with, he evaded my grasp by an inch. “Right now? It’s just many visions of your impending death.”

“Ooh, how emo.”

With a deadened expression, I chucked the remote at his head and stuck two fingers up at him in retort when he turned back towards me with a hurt squawk. “Piss off, Matty.”

“You piss off.” Matty grumbled, rubbing at the back of his skull in a sulk before he grabbed me by my ankles and tugged me forwards.

And to think I’d almost begun to feel bad about hitting him with tele remote.

“Come on, just let me in!” He pestered.

“I’ve already let you into my house, doesn’t that suffice enough?” I quipped back with an irritated sort of growl whilst trying to right myself again. I dug my heel into his hip as I did so and smirked at the hiss he fixed me with.

“No- and stop with the fucking fighting.” He retorted with a grumpy frown. “Gonna leave here with bruises tomorrow. Wouldn’t want your neighbours to talk.”

His eyes met mine then and I could see that he was serious, he wouldn’t be leaving without a fight. Stubborn prat.

I huffed. “Fine.”

Matty smiled in victory and lifted my own feet up into his lap, settling his arms on my calves. Obviously glad that I’d finally come to my senses and relented.

“Alright, so Ross said you were with G when he last saw you. Is that where you were just headed back from?”

I hummed a sound of accent, “Why’s it so important where I was anyway?”

“Don’t be a tit.” Matty scolded lightly, then continued on as though he’d not been interrupted at all. “Where were you two at then?”

“What are you my dad now?” I mocked, comfortable now in the position I’d been moulded into. “Want me to tell you we were shagging ‘round the back of a Kfc?”

Matty’s mouth tugged up into a sly grin. “Only if you were.”

I rolled my eyes and went to see what channel I’d happened to land on, but my attention was dragged back to Matty when he tugged on the cuff of my trouser.

“Come on! It’s like pulling fucking teeth with you.”

I bared my grin in return and he huffed out a reluctant laugh.

“Really, I just wanna help, love. Might stop you bein’ miserable.”

I released a lungful of air, slouching further into the settee in hopes that it would swallow me up. But when that didn’t happen, I just gifted Matty a small apologetic smile.

“Don’t wanna bore you.”

“Biggest lie. You love rambling to me about all the shit going on in your life. Just last week you were on the phone to me, crying about how badly you needed a piss whilst stood in the queue at Waitrose.”

I gasped in mock horror. “It was a Sainsbury’s, you toff! Some of us don’t have the cash to spare shopping there with the likes of you.”

Matty narrowed his eyes at me but didn’t have a leg to stand on here, knew it too. So instead he just jabbed at me again. And I had to retaliate.

We were both a breathless mess by the time we’d decided to call it quits, me getting one last hard hit in before scuttling back to my seat. I laughed, rosy cheeked and disheveled, when Matty used the side table to lug himself back onto the settee, half-dead.

“I was at a disadvantage.” He muttered, splayed out now as he tried to catch his breath.

“Disadvantage, how?” I chuckled, though I didn’t know how it was possible seeing that my lungs were still struggling to cooperate with me.

“Can’t hit a girl proper.”

“Oh yeah? And I here I thought you were a feminist!” I couldn’t help but tease, poking at his waist with my foot. He grunted, waving me away.

“I already surrendered. Leave off.”

I laughed to myself as I relaxed further into my seat and watched as Matty struggled to drag his body down the other end, feet finding mine somewhere in the middle.

We were quiet then for a while, just the sound of the tele and our laboured breathing to be heard.

I glanced back towards him when he sighed, locking his legs around one of mine. My hand found his ankle.

“Yeah?”

Matty stared back at me from under hooded eyes, he was getting more and more sleepy by the minute, that much was obvious, but it seemed he had yet to let up. “What did happen after you saw your mum?”

My gaze drifted down to where I was holding his foot, and I seemed to play thoughtlessly with the cuff of his sock. I shrugged a shoulder, pursing my lips as I blew out a breath. “I dunno. Just felt, off.”

“Off like shocked, thrown off kilter? Or ‘Oh shit, the world is now spinning on its head and there’s a clown stood in that far corner’ sort of off?”

“Second.” I deemed, not even fazed by his musings.

Matty hummed and thought it over. “But Ross reckoned you were doing alright by the time he left you.”

I shrugged again, unable to do much else it seemed. “I was. I mean, we had a bit of a tiff but I got over it and we hugged it out. But you know how Ross and me work.”

He just continued to watch me though and so I felt the strange urge to carry on.

“Said our goodbyes, then G and I went and got some food afterwards.”

This was where Matty decided to butt in. “From where?”

“Chippy up by the swing bridge.”

Matty’s eyebrows rose, “So you went down by the canals then?”

I peered back at him through slitted lids. “Alright, didn’t realise we had Sherlock on the sodding case.”

He winked in turn, “I’m just that good, babe.”

With a snort, I could only roll my eyes. “Hm, so you say. But I’ve got a line of girls who’d claim otherwise.”

“That right?” Matty replied, appearing to think it over. “Always wondered what it’d be like if all my exes got together in some sort of group.”

“What the self-help kind?”

I should’ve anticipated the kick he gave me.

“Oi, thought you didn’t hit girls!”

He gave me a snide smile, locking my legs with his before I could strike back. “Well, that was before I decided you look a lot like Woody Allen.”

“Bastard!” I gasped, pinching at his toe. He squirmed slightly, hissing, before he loosened his hold.

“Like calls to like, and all that crap.”

We shared an amused smile, and allowed the fight to dwindle.

“So,” Matty harrumphed, “down by the canals…”

I sighed, toying with a loose thread on his jean. “Yeah, ended up sitting on the edge sharing a portion of chips.”

He frowned at me, “What, like you lot used to?”

My jaw ticked as I hollowed out my cheeks to avoid actually having to answer him, and shrugged.

“Oh, love.” Matty consoled with a sad smile that SCREAMED pity, so much so that I wanted to look away but couldn’t. “Why do that to yourself? When I said that you two should meet up and talk things through, I didn’t mean dive headfirst in the fuckin’ deep end and spend a day off down memory lane!”

I groaned, slumping further into the cushions. “I know! Okay? I know. But I couldn’t help it. It just sort of… happened.”

“How the fuck does that ‘sort of happen’?” Matty shot back, knowing I didn’t have a full-proof answer to give him. I just threw an arm over my eyes instead. “And you wonder why it all went to shit.”

I peeled my arm away to send him a disheartened glare. “That’s the second time I’ve been told that today.”

“Well, there you go then! Only brought it on yourself, didn’t you? Hang on- did you even end up sorting shit out with G then?”

I couldn’t wipe away the pout that formed then, and Matty simply shook his head at me, patting my thigh.

“Come on, I’ll grab us something a bit stronger than just water to drown our sorrows in and then you can tell me what went on. Yeah?”

I nodded and tucked my knees up into my chest when Matty rolled away. I found myself staring blankly into space whilst he made his way into the kitchen, recalling all the words George had said to me during the course of the day.

But it only made me think back to the birthday wish I'd made the night before. Wondering if I regretted it.

Part Ten>

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duckapus · 1 year ago

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Koopa Concert Reunion Tour: Part 1

As the Airship approaches the Barrier between Muppetopia and Bowser's Zone, the first thing Tari notices is the music.

"Um, we're still pretty far away, aren't we? Just how loud is this place?"

"The entire Zone is a giant, nonstop rock concert." Kamek groans, "It couldn't have latched onto his chicken nugget addiction, noooo. It just had to be his musical tastes."

Eggman chimes in from nearby, where he's working with some sort of tablet, "Made worse by the fact that everyone who's been converted there has special adaptations that allow them to withstand far greater volumes than normal. I've taken the liberty of installing sound dampeners throughout the ship so our eardrums don't get blown out during our approach. They'll activate when we change Zones."

Sure enough, after a few minutes they cross the barrier and the noise briefly gets FAR worse before abruptly dropping down to a distant rhythmic pulse that's more felt than heard. As they continue towards where Bowser is, Mario looks over the side at the inexplicably bright green lava flows that cut through the area.

"Look Meggy, they've got rivers of jello!"

"I'm pretty sure that's lava, Red. Or...it used to be?" she thinks it over for a moment before shaking her head, "Anyway, we probably can't eat it."

Predictably, this leads to him pouting, "Take all the fun out of it..."

Eventually, they reach what looks like a colossal city/concert hall hybrid that presumably used to be one of Bowser's fortresses. Thankfully the airship docks still exist and there's plenty of spaces for them to park. As they do, Kamek turns to address the group (so all the named characters but not the assorted random Mario enemies and Badniks).

"Alright everyone, this may be friendly territory, but it still carries the risk of conversion, plus it's a giant concert. Don't go anywhere alone, don't get caught up in the festivities," that he clearly directs at Bob and Toad as the musicians and known impulsive troublemakers of the group, "and remember where we parked. SMG4, Mario, you're coming with me to see Lord Bowser. Everyone else, either come with us or do whatever else you want and be back here in three hours. If you're not here on time you will be assumed to be converted and left behind."

As everyone confirms they understand the terms (or in Sig's case just goes belowdecks so nobody expects him to leave the ship. no way he's dealing with all the noise and crowds in this Zone), he gets ready to lead them down the gangplank, pausing to address the ship's captain, "look after the place while we're gone, Bomberto."

"Oye sir, she'll be restocked an' ready ta go when you get back."

He nods and keeps going, only for the group to pause again on the docking station's stainless steel walkway when they hear a familiar laugh, "Mwee-hee-hee-hee! Looks like these guys came late to the party!"

Another young voice chimes in, also familiar, but far less so due to the tone, "How're you supposed to be late to a party that don't stop, BJ?"

"Eh, true. Wadd'ya say we give 'em a warm welcome?"

"You read my mind!"

In drops a pair of small, mostly blue black and green figures. One is clearly Bowser Junior in his canonical Wonder form, complete with mask-turned-space-defying-beartrap-maw and ponytail made of neon green flames, while the other appears to be a floating preteen girl with messy hair the same so-dark-it's-almost-black shade of purple as Junior's head and bangs covering her right eye (both of which have purple sclera and acid-green irises), what appears to be purple lipstick, eyeshadow and nail polish but given how conversion and her own physical form work is probably recolored skin, sharklike teeth, an oversized black tee-shirt with a green Bowser logo half-tucked into jeans with ripped knees and frayed rolled-up legs, black-and-red fingerless gloves with orange Eggman logos on the backs, shoes designed to resemble the boot portions of Eggman's jumpsuit, and what would look like the sleeves of a black and green pixel pattern undershirt if it weren't for the fact that the green parts are moving and the same pattern is visible in the rips on her jeans and a thick streak through her bangs.

While most of the group has trouble figuring out who exactly she is, Eggman, Cubot, Root and Lil Coding's eyes are practically popping out of their skulls seeing her like THAT.

"SAGE!?"

Whatever sort of introduction the two had planned is thoroughly derailed as Sage hears that, actually takes a good look at the group they're supposed to be greeting, and smiles even wider than she already was before hurling herself at Eggman and wrapping her arms as far around his body as they'll go, "DAD! You're okay! Oh chaos, I was so worried when I saw what happened to Metal!"

Well, even as awkward and...unnerving as it is to see her look and act so out-of-character, he immediately melts and returns the hug, "It's good to see you too, sweetheart."

Bob, of course, takes this moment to be Bob, "Huh. Didn't figure she'd have a grunge phase." Meggy promptly smacks him to the other side of the docking bay, "Ow, my ovaries!"

(also, because I got attached to the random background oc and am making him slightly important way later on (because of course I did) here's Boberto)

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katherinewilliams221b · 1 year ago

Text

Our Time To Bloom

Chapter 6: The Secret Garden Inn

<Previous Chapter - All Chapters - Masterlist

Summary: Two months after the war, the couple is more distant than ever. Kate accompanies her grandfather on a trip to Ireland, where her past and present will collide in unexpected ways. Charlie stays in Romania with a decision to make: will he follow her and uncover all unsaid things? Romance/Drama /Mystery

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Kate Williams (hphm mc, original female character) established relationship

7th, July 1998

On a darkened corner of the tiled hallways of the Ministry, the travelling group started to dissipate. Kate found herself stuck in place, watching the frantic coming and going of wizards and witches.

One of the first things Kingsley Shacklebolt did as a new minister of Magic was opening the doors of the ministry. A decision that was praised by some and feared by others, for it was done only weeks after the war ended.

Kate eyed the increased amount of aurors in every nook, instinctively looking for the easiest escaping route; there were nine aurors near the central fountain, two at every fireplace, one for each lift.

“Miss, please, move out of the way.” An auror touched her elbow from behind and she flinched away, stepping out of his way.

She curled her fingers towards her inner wrist, checking her wand, and made her way towards one lift.

Squeezed between wizards, Kate appeared inside a telephone cabin in London. She instantly brought a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the light.

Across the street, a man and a woman stared at the cabin. To muggles and untrained eyes they could appear as tourists, but Kate recognised the aurors in them.

Once outside, she walked towards the street corner and leaned on the building’s stone. She let her thoughts wander to Charlie again, wondering why he hadn’t accepted her offer. For months she had given him the space he sought, worrying about his silence regarding his brother. She could understand. Merlin, she could, why wouldn’t he open up about it? Since when have they guarded their thoughts like that? You know since when, she thought to herself.

The glass of a showcase in front of her returned her reflection: her hair almost reached her waist now, it had long lost its curliness, leaving muted brown waves instead. She wore simple clothing that day, a loose white shirt tucked inside blue jeans and her old boots. She tapped one against the pavement, avoiding looking at her tired expression.

Not even five minutes passed when she saw a familiar figure strolling in her direction. Her grandfather, Bernard, was a round and short man, with red cheeks and smirking grey eyes. Kate smiled as he approached only carrying a small satchel and an umbrella on his back, anchored with a leather belt across his chest.

“A stór!” His smile grew, and he opened his arms as he walked. Kate pushed herself away from the wall and hopped towards him, accepting his embrace immediately.

She felt him tightening his grip and she let herself relax against him, the faint scent of his cologne washed away her preoccupations.

“Let me look at you.” He took off his glasses, letting them hang from the chain around his neck, and inspected her face with a frown. “How have you been?”

Kate swallowed and forced a smile, placing her hands on his arms to reassure him.

“Better.” She lied. “How are we going to Cobh?”

Bernard squinted almost imperceptibly and Kate knew he noticed the change of topic. He then scanned her belongings and then their surroundings, a light frown appeared again between his brows.

“Ah,” he said with a lighter tone. “Follow me.”

After preventing Bernard from carrying her luggage, Kate followed her grandfather toward a less than frequented alley. Once he had made sure no one was around, he extended his hand to her.

She stared at it for a second and sighed.

“Just one more time. Some portkeys have been cancelled.”

Kate held his hand, resigned, and closed her eyes. For the second time that day, her stomach spiralled, and she disappeared through the void.

Clouded skies and a strong wind greeted them; Kate and Bernard apparated in front of a stone building, a big clock decorated its central tower and three heavy-looking doors stood before them.

Kate squinted and brought her hand to her throat, protecting herself from the wind as best as she could. She turned around and observed the river that split the city. There were several people crossing the bridges or just taking a walk near the water. No one seemed to have paid attention to them.

After one last glance at Cork behind her, she followed Bernard towards the wooden door in the middle.

He patted her hand, “We will have time to explore to your heart’s content. But first…”

The gates opened to reveal a grandiose interior; tall columns separated ostentatious wooden desks, redirecting any visitor’s gaze to the dome’s glass ceiling. A seemingly innocent chandelier hovered above the space scattering rays of light around.

Upon close inspection, Kate noticed an erratic shift caused by the individual movements of the crystal beads. At the end of each ray of light, a letter, a document, or a folder floated to a certain direction to be delivered, and the light was scattered again.

Still walking, Kate heard her grandpa’s voice a second too late and slammed her body against the front desk.

Bernard’s roaring laugh echoed in her ears. She brought her hand to her forehead, massaging slightly and avoiding at all costs eye contact with the figure appearing behind the desk.

Staring at her from above, a silver-haired man with dark olive skin and black eyes waited as she composed herself. A perfectly trimmed eyebrow raised at the display, not without, Kate noticed, a hint of amusement in their expression.

“Not a word.” She warned Bernard. He in return zipped his lips with his thumb and index finger, not bothering to hide his smirk. However, he touched her elbow with gentleness and placed a small pouch in her hand.

“Why don’t you change these for muggle coin, hm? I’ll find you when I’m finished.”

When the transaction was done, Kate searched for a comfortable spot to wait for Bernard and decided on a bench against a wall where she had sight of the main door, her grandfather and most of the back doors leading to other chambers. When the space started to get crowded, she instinctively brought her finger to her inner wrist.

She observed Bernard handing an envelope to a young goblin before walking towards her.

“All done,” he started with a smile and checked his pocket watch, “Now, to catch a train!”

“No more apparitions?”

“No more, A stór.”

Kate managed to relax slightly, and with a smile of her own they marched towards a door in the back.

The gate opened, revealing a blueish veil. Bernard crossed first, and Kate followed with unwavering trust. They appeared on a covered train station and they made their way to buy their tickets.

“There is so much water on the route to Cobh that the line runs across not one but two causeways!” Bernard informed her with enthusiasm while waiting in line.

Kate smiled brightly, genuinely, at her grandfather and listened to his relaxing voice describe the sights they would see on the way.

Despite Bernard’s energetic personality, she noticed the slight agitation of his breathing and the way he unhooked his umbrella to use it as a cane.

“First stop will be Little Island! And then Glounthaune, followed by Fota, which we will be going to visit in a few days. You liking all the plants and such, you must step on the gardens, yes. Then there’s Carrigaloe and Rushbrook and finally Cobh. Half an hour!”

As she listened, she walked them to the closest bench. Bernard sat down with a content sigh.

“I’m very happy you came,” Bernard said sincerely.

Kate sat down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling him pat her knee.

“And I’m very happy you invited me.”

Kate looked out of the window, observing the green landscape pass at high speed alongside the river. At some point, yellow and green fences impeded the view and signalled the stop at Fota Wildlife Park. She turned to Bernard, who sat in front of her with a newspaper, with a smile of recognition. To her surprise, her grandfather was assessing her with worry.

“What?” she asked in a hushed voice. She knew what he was going to say, they couldn’t ignore the hippogriff in the room any longer.

“I’ve noticed… That redhead of yours owes me an explanation, he does! Here I am, expecting to see him after all this time,”he continued with a light tone" and he decides that having a job is more important than a trip with his partner’s grandfather?"

Kate avoided his gaze to watch the river again. However, a small, breathy laugh escaped her. She thanked him, in silence, for not asking and for at least trying to lighten her sour mood. He surely didn’t deserve her melancholy. Making up her mind, she placed all her thoughts about Charlie on a small little box in her brain and looked at Bernard again.

“We are going to have fun, you and I.”

The smile that bloomed on the elder’s face remained there for the rest of the trip.

“That,” Bernard announced, turning back towards a brick building after getting off the train, “is what remains of the original station.”

“Now it’s a heritage centre,” Kate observed. Bernard’s expression turned more sombre, and remained pensive, watching the building and the extension of the Port of Cobh while clutching his umbrella.

“Yes, they explain the history of the quayside, from which people emigrated or were forcibly transported to the colonies. Come with me, I found a lovely bed-and-breakfast to stay that I think you’ll enjoy.”

“I know very little of the time you left…” Kate tried. She reminded herself to be patient, to be careful around the stories about her grandparents’ lives in Ireland. “or how.”

To her surprise, Bernard took a solemn breath and smiled at her as they walked.

“It was 1945. And I do remember the exact date, oh yes. Muggles and wizards were at war, both with themselves and each other. It was known… that a Grindelwald’s, you know the man, do you? That a Grindelwald’s supporters group had settled in the area. One day I found my home painted with a message; ‘blood traitors you are next’.

“Because grandma was a muggle?” Kate gasped.

“Among other things.”

Bernard fell silent for a moment, contemplating the sea at their left.

“I panicked. I grabbed your gran and left in a rush. Heading to America.”

Kate’s brows jumped to her hairline, but remained quiet.

“We ended up in Milford Haven. Wales!” he chuckled at Kate’s wide-open eyes. “A misunderstanding that probably saved our lives.”

He looked at her over his glasses, wearing the smirk of a storyteller. He raised a finger,

“On that boat, Julie told me she was with child. Your mam. We went to Cardiff, Merlin knows how, gaining some sickles selling potions on the road, if, and only if we happened to encounter another wizard.”

“You can tell?”

“Oh, yes.” He smirked.

“And then?” Fully invested in the story, Kate struggled to look ahead, wanting to keep her attention on Bernard.

“We settled there until Julie had the babe. Not long after, I heard someone say at the wizarding neighbourhood that a potioneer in Bristol was looking for an assistant. So I sailed again! All by myself, and managed to convince the poor fellow to hire me. I found a place to stay, the best I could afford that wasn’t filled with doxys and Merlin knows what, and sent a letter to your gran. Let me tell you something, muggle post service is embarrassingly slow compared to owls.”

“So she travelled alone with Mama there?”

“She did so, she did.”

“And how did you end up in Stanton then? Where you live now.”

“We stayed in Bristol for a year or so because your gran, as brilliant as she was having a little, how would you say? A little twitching on her fingers, as a manner of speaking, because she wanted to study! We moved to Oxford, then, for her to train. She had a bit of practice with voluntary work at Cobh, so she had all that figured out in a blink.”

They moved to the stone wall to their left, silently letting a cyclist pass them, and resumed their stroll a few minutes more.

“And then your aunt arrived. With two babes and our salaries, part in muggle coin and part in galleons, we couldn’t really afford to live in Oxford. So while Julie finished her training, I travelled around a bit with your mam and auntie and found Stanton! It was small, quiet, and they needed someone with medical experience in town.”

Kate laughed at this, she knew that story. Her grandma was a nurse, but Stanton had no hospital and less than a hundred people living there, so she had been, for a while, ‘The Doc’.

“Here we are.”

Bernard pointed at a white hanging sign in the shape of a house that said, in blue letters,

The Secret Garden Inn

B&B

Bernard opened a small wooden gate for her and walked after her through the gravel path. A three-storey house revealed itself as they advanced, hidden among the trees and abundant vegetation. The garden was well kept, full of blooming flowers whose scent reached Kate’s nose.

The building was bigger than Kate expected for a Bed and breakfast; it was white, with plenty of windows in every corner, a sun-room on one side, and part of the second floor had a wide terrace.

“But grandpa! This is a mansion!”

They shared a chuckle, and after a knock on the door, they entered the building.

The interior was an elegant mix of antique furniture and modern brightness, it was clear that it had been remodelled.

The first thing they encountered was a desk facing them, an older woman, around Bernard’s age, talked in hushed voices on the phone while staring at a computer screen.

She had her hair short, elegantly dyed to a dark brown; her skin had a pale rosy tone, with wrinkles adorning her mouth and jaw and a slightly hooked nosed held a pair of black glasses.

“Ah, but don’t be talking to me like that, lad. Just tell me how to change the colour of the… cells… yes, that.” The woman took a glance at a thick book on her right before typing on the keyboard, the phone trapped between her ear and shoulder. “Eric, phone me in the afternoon, will you? Yes. Yes, bye bye. Bye bye, dear.”

“Good day!” Bernard announced after she hung up.

“Oh, but please be welcome. How can I assist you?”

“We had two rooms reserved under the name of Bernard. That would be me.”

Both Kate and the woman chuckled at the clarification

“I figured as much! That’s no face for a Bernard,” he said, pointing at Kate and standing up. "Perhaps an Arthur or a Phineas suit you better. Come with me, I’ll show you around.”

The woman, named Áine, showed them to their modest rooms on the second floor. Bernard had insisted on her having the room with the double bed, and Kate had only accepted because her grandfather would then have the ocean view.

“That door is off limits, since it leads to the private part of the house.” Áine informed them when they reached the ground floor again. She pointed behind the stairs."Next to it, the kitchen, also off limits."

Bernard nodded, and with his hands clasped behind him, made his way towards the spacious living room. The fireplace was the focus of attention, plenty of photographs and trinkets adorned the mantel and ceiling-high bookshelves guarded each side.

“Feel free to come here as you please to read or play. There are cards and chess, and you can ask for a cup o’ tea at any time if…,” she looked around, “well, she is not here at the moment…”

Kate wandered towards the back of the room; to her left she could glimpse a dining room but what caught her attention was the sight through a window.

“Ah!” Áine announced, "and this way is the reason behind the name of the inn."

The three of them crossed the door that lead to an enclosed garden. The bushes and flowers blocked the view of the street, giving the space privacy and some sense of isolation. A big tree stood proudly right in the middle, giving shade to the centre part of the grass. Some string lights could be seen hanging from the branches, and Kate couldn’t wait to see it at night.

“Here are your keys, Bernard and…”

“Kate.”

“Kate, then. Feel free to come and go as you wish, at a reasonable volume. We close the front door at nine, here’s the key. Just in case you find yourselves discovering Cobh at night. Breakfast is served in the dining room from seven to nine. And with that,” she smiled and clasped her hands, “I hope you have a lovely stay.”

After settling in their rooms and accepting the tea Áine had offered, they spent most of the day strolling along the shore, admiring the colourful houses and the different street nooks that looked like they had come out of a storybook. At some point, Kate’s stomach protested, and they made a strategic stop to replenish strength.

“Cobh is probably best known for being the ‘last port of call’ to the ill-fated RMS Titanic who on 11 April 1912, berthed at Queenstown, before she set out across the Atlantic on the last leg of her maiden voyage.[1],” Kate read as they ate on a small tourist book Áine had gifted her. “Do you remember that?” she asked with a teasing smirk.

“For Merlin’s sake, lass, how old do you think I am?”

After Bernard had declared he didn’t have the energy to climb the steep roads to the cathedral and the centre part of the town, they resumed their peaceful walk on the coastline.

“Come here, a stór. See.” With a shaky finger, he pointed at an orange building, right between a bar and a gift shop. It read: P. Donegan and Co. Solicitors.

“Who are they?”

“No clue. That… that was your gran’s house.”

Kate let out a breath. She tried to imagine how it would have looked like before or how she would have looked like as a child. She knew her great grandfather was a fisherman, a sailor, and her great grandmother sold the fish in the market. Or at least they were until the incident.

“It was right over there,” Bernard pointed at the port, “the market. Where that parking is now.” He sighed, lost in thought, and before Kate could reach out to grab his hand, Bernard composed himself. “Ice cream?”

Kate nodded, still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that her granny had a life there, on the stones she was stepping on, one that her grandfather was doing his best to show her. After a while, they sat on a bench looking at the sea in comfortable silence, only surrounded by the sound of people, birds, boats and a distant guitar of a street performer.

A dumb idea occurred to her when she saw a tissue on the asphalt about to fall over to the water.

Wingardium Leviosa

She repeated it over and over, focusing on the vision of the tissue flying above the ground. She kept staring at it, brows furrowing and lips pursing.

Wingardium Leviosa, Wingardium Leviosa, Wingardium Leviosa!

“Kate.”

She turned to Bernard for a second, startled, and then to the place the tissue was being stepped on by some tourists. Kate sighed.

Bernard touched two fingers to her arm gently. “Since when?”

“Since we left Hogwarts’ ruins.” Her lips trembled, and he hummed.

“Can you do magic with a wand?”

“No. Nothing you are about to ask me I can do.”

Bernard nodded as he patted her knee with reassurance, but said nothing else. Kate grazed her eye with a knuckle, not wanting to have a meltdown right in front of him and ruining the lovely day they were having. She pushed her attempt at magic to the side and focused on the repetitive task two men were performing as they moved wooden crates out of a boat until the sun started to set.

[1] Text extracted from Cobh and Harbour Chamber website.

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#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley x kate williams #our time to bloom #ottb

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drchenquill · 7 months ago

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Vangeance Is The Meal Of the Powerless ~ snippet of chapter 1

"Have you got everything?" I shouted from the bathroom, where I was trying to tame my red curls. "Everything's packed." Talon yelled back. My Vigor was changing in the bedroom while I took one last look at my creation in the mirror. Since I was back at Talon's side, I was bubbling with new energy, which was clearly visible on my face. My yellow eyes no longer looked lifeless, my skin was soft and there was no sign of fatigue. In all the years I had spent alone, I had completely forgotten what it felt like to be happy.

And I was happy. "Kitten, we should go slowly, you know how much he hates to wait." Came Talon calling me. He was standing in the doorway. He wore his dark hair loose, making his red eyes stand out. A short-sleeved black shirt sat against his muscular torso, thanks to which I could see his beautiful, well-built arms that gave me warmth every night. His long legs were tucked into loose, slightly ripped jeans. To bring everything together beautifully, he wore thick, black boots on his feet that reached just a little above his ankles. My Vigor noticed my wandering eyes, for his chocolate smell became sweeter as he asked in a low voice, "Do you like what you see?" In response, I mimicked a cat purring lightly, which made him laugh. He then slowly approached me to place his hands on my hips. He easily lifted me onto the sink and stood between my legs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and didn't hesitate to press my lips to his. He snuggled closer and moaned lightly into my lips as my fingers stroked through his curls. My legs found their place around his waist. When he noticed, I felt him smirk slightly. My lips parted from his as I said softly, "We should go, you know how he hates to wait." Talon's disappointed expression quickly turned into a playful grin. "Let him learn to be more patient," he said. Effortlessly, he picked me up from the sink and made his way to our bedroom, never separating his lips from mine. I lived for moments like this, for the moments when the world around us no longer mattered. It was just me and my Vigor until there was a knock at the door. We had made it to the door of the bedroom when we were torn from our world. With me still in his arms, Talon called out, "Who's there?" "Chi cazzo credi che sia?" called an all too familiar and irritated voice from behind the door. Talon walked further into the room and shouted, "You must have gotten the door wrong." I swallowed my laughter and let Talon drop me onto the bed, where he then slowly climbed over me. His lips were almost back on mine when the voice called out again, "If I set the house on fire, I'm sure it'll help you remember." Talon and I froze. His gaze drifted to me. The smell of burning flooded my nose and I jumped off the bed, startled. "We're coming! We're coming!" I said quickly and opened the door. Valerio stood in front of me with a very smug smile on his face. The white eyes looking down at me were kind despite his brimming arrogance, but I saw sadness in them. Since our last meeting, he had let his straight black strands grow so that they now covered his ears. He was once again wearing a long black coat, a blood-red shirt underneath and tight jeans. "Good morning," he said to me.

I looked past him, expecting to see someone with him, but his vigor was nowhere to be seen. It seemed strange to me that he was going anywhere without Leroy. Their bond was even stronger than normal Vigors. Leroy was the air that Valerio breathed. Valerio was the rhythm in which Leroy's heart beat. "Are you looking for something in particular?" the fullblood asked me. I felt an arm around my shoulders and the delicious smell of chocolate emanating from Talon. "She's probably looking for your tact," he joked. Valerio raised an eyebrow and countered with, "I guess it's with your punctuality."

Talon laughed delightedly and said, "Touché, my friend." Now the fullblood furrowed his brow and asked in confusion, "Did you just insult me?" I smiled in amusement and moved away to get our suitcases. I could still hear Talon trying to explain the meaning of touché to him.

~~~

"Chi cazzo credi che sia?" = "Who the fuck do you think it is?"

#writeblr #writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #wip #creative writing #vampire #original vampire lore

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hmspogueobx · 1 year ago

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Everything to me (Paul Lahote)

Chapter Five: Jealousy’s flare

The shrill sound of my alarm pulls me from sleep the next morning. Dreading the new girl role I'll be playing all day, I lay in bed for a while until I'm forced to roll out of bed like it's going to kill me. Washing away all traces that I've overslept I opt for just light mascara and Chapstick, and make my hair pin straight. I pull on black high waisted skinny jeans, tuck a blue striped top into them and shrug my jean jacket overtop. Popping a bagel into my mouth, I pull on some heeled boots and rush out the door.

The drive to LaPush high is mercifully short and I make it with time to spare. After running to the office to collect my timetable, I just make it to my first class as the bell goes. Thankfully I see familiar faces right at the back. Jacob, Embry and Paul wave me over and I take my place next to them.

Class is about halfway done and I can feel Paul's gaze on the side of my face. I turn to him and send him a questioning look. He smirks at me and slides a note to my desk

You look really beautiful today :)

I hide the note under my hand and feel my face heat up. Paul's smirk only grows at my reaction and he turns his attention back to the teacher, satisfied with the effect he had on me.

Paul follows me around like a puppy all day, and I find myself loving every minute of it. He's right next to me when he can be, and for every class I have without him, he's right there at the door when the bell rings to walk me to my next one. I'm all anyone is talking about all day. No one knows that my supernatural hearing picks up everything they're saying. Most of it is just curious whispers about me, but I cringe at the few people telling stories about why we left town in the first place and the things they have to say about my family. The best is all the glares I'm getting from most of the girls, who reek of jealousy watching Paul walk in step beside me all day, giving me all of his attention. One girl even tries to flirt with him right in front of me.

"Hey Babe. How're you today?" This girl asks, bringing her hand to rest on Paul's bicep. Without my permission jealousy flares up inside me. I see the girl's confidence waver as our eyes lock and I raise my eyebrow at her. Damn this imprint thing is ridiculous. You barely know him Lucy. I think to myself taking a deep breath. I can't seem to un-ball my fists though and the girls eyes glance worriedly down at them. Paul seems to enjoy my reaction and rudely shrugs the girl off and turns his attention to me, brushing my hair behind my ear with a smirk.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen something quite as hot as you staking your claim." He whispers in my ear in a husky voice that sends shivers down my spine. He steps back to gauge my reaction to his words and I smile sweetly at him biting my lip. His eyes darken at the sight.

The girl is staring at us with her jaw on the floor, so I send her a wink and start for the door, Paul hot on my heels chuckling loudly behind me.

I trudge through the rain up the porch steps of Sam and Emily's house and barge in without knocking. I figured if the second cousin pass doesn't earn me the right, the pack member pass will. I'm proved right when Emily calls to me from the kitchen.

"If you trail mud into my house Luce there'll be hell to pay. Come dry off and have some soup!"

Quickly rubbing my shoes on the doormat, I turn the corner to find her standing over an absurdly large pot of soup on the stove and offer my aid in preparing the rest of dinner for the horde of always hungry teenage werewolves.

Some of the boys went out for patrol right after school, and I'm to go out with them and learn the lay of the land after dinner. It's then that I hear them start piling through the front door and taking their places automatically at the table.

"Hello ladies." Embry says as Paul silently wraps me in a hug, as if we hadn't just seen each other a few hours ago.

"How was your first day of school Little one?" Sam asks. He's taken to calling me that cause he thinks it's hilarious that all of the boys tower over me. I swear I'm not that short, they're all just obnoxiously huge.

"She almost knocked out Cierra. You know that girl Paul used to hook up with?" Embry blurts out. Paul's eyes go wide. He hadn't mentioned that bit earlier. But I laugh at the memory of her jaw on the floor. Paul looks at me nervously like he's waiting for me to snap.

"What? Should I be mad? I don't care. I've slept with people too. Last time we saw each other before yesterday we were like 8!" Paul's eyes narrowed at the news of my history, but I just give him a playful glare.

After dinner, Sam pulls me out of the house and we shift into our wolves.

So we all take turns running patrol. Our territory is everything west of Forks. The Cullens protect what's east of that. We'll run the perimeter together now so you can get to know where the lines are. It's pretty hard to miss where the Cullens territory starts, the smell will burn up your nose. I try to make sure the shifts are even, but you'll have to give up school and nights every once in a while. Once we get to the treaty line you'll be able to pick up the scent of the Cullens. You'll come to recognize it pretty quickly. So if you ever catch a whiff of a vampire that isn't then, howl and the rest of the pack with come help. You're expected to do that same, if you hear a howl, you come cause someone could be in danger.

I make sure to take in everything Sam says. He explains things really well and in a way that makes me want to listen. The mark of a good Alpha. I make a huge fuss about the smell of vampires when we reach it, but I learn the Cullens scents and lock them in my memory. We run the whole perimeter and back to the house, Sam explaining how everything works the whole time. By the end of my training, I feel like I can do this well and relish the feeling of belonging. These guys want me here, and I want nothing more than to become a fully fledged member of this family. Getting lost in my mind, it startles me when Sam answers my private thoughts.

"You're already part of this family little one. Even if you weren't a wolf, being Paul's imprint would make you a pack member. But you hit the double whammy. We are your brothers now, and we take care of each other in this family."

A warmth radiates through my chest at Sam's words. And I feel at home.

#paul lahote #paul lahote x oc #paul lahote fluff #paul #twilight #werewolves

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tex-treasure-chamber · 4 months ago

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Witch Au with Ozymandias

As a dream Magic user I can:

∆ Induce Sleep in others

∆ Divination/ dream visions, reading the future, the present and the past and/or provide help to a problem at hand by interpreting dreams (somethin' I kinda can do but work on and get better at)

∆ Converse with Dream Messengers (servants of Higher Powers and spirit escorts)

∆ Look into people's Dreams. I'd do it via a shiny, reflective surface like a Crystal ball, mirror, or even placid water.

∆ Dream walk via astral projection (so I'd need to be careful and keep my body protected while I'm Zzzz'ing)

∆ Implant Thoughts via inception (something I feel is extremely difficult just like the movie Inception so I'd learn to do that over time and it would be a big accomplishment)

∆ Manipulate the Dream environment at will in my own and other people's dreams which leads to:

-psychological damage via fear inducement/healing via good images etc.

- gather Intel on the real world via interrogation within the dream

- allow Spirits to communicate with the dreamer

∆ bring objects and beings from their dreams into the real world (Only after a couple years and even then doesn't happen much at all)

•Specializations:

°Dream Inducement

°Dream/Nightmare manipulation

°Dream Materialization

∆ Discernment

- able to see the Aura of people like a Sombra Negra around people who do Evil and light from people who do Good

- can get a feel of what kind of person I'm dealing with

What kind of familiar would you have? Describe them to me so I can edit them.

Three tailed Kitsune that splits into five tail a couple years into our contract. supernatural abilities commonly attributed to the kitsune include

∆ possession

∆mouths or tails that generate fire or lightning (known as kitsune-bi; literally, fox-fire)

∆willful manifestation in the dreams of others

∆Flight

∆Invisibility

∆The creation of illusions so elaborate as to be almost indistinguishable from reality.

Ozymandias is a Fæ

He's upbeat and very much a teacher figure. trickster and passionate, emotionally intuitive, lonely but in denial, optimistic and foolhardy at times, means well, old soul, bit of a snob, can be really bitchy, vain.

My outfits:

For the spring usually big jumpers with collared tucked in shirts, jeans rolled up, and Converse.

Summer brings in shorts, dresses, peasant blouses/normal t-shirts, open collared shirts with tank tops underneath, big witchy hat, lace cardigans, and sandals

I think definitely poncho sweaters with skinny jeans and ankle boots with the big witchy hat for the fall plus jumpers ofc if we live somewhere that experiences it

And if we experience winter I cry the whole time inside a trench coat and lots of layers and warming spells.

Business casual when working. Lots of fun star and eye motifs in Jewelry and after Ozy comes in, fox motifs too

Accent:

So thinking of Ozy being very conscious of how he sounds when he's in human form and in public. When in public and talking to very pretty girls or is doing Business with others he puts on a Received Pronunciation accent, v posh sounding, and when it's just us two he'll switch it up to a Cockney accent.

Basically how I am with my own Southern accent

Ozymandias' outfits:

For Ozymandias I'm going with more businessy bohoish look as a general in public look so nice dress shoes, slacks, dress shirt sleeves rolled up, vest but no tie or anything, instead like a scarf around his neck and shoulders.

When he's at the house he's prob wearing slacks, a polo, and a jumper. His build is lithe but not a green bean fkfjd

∆ merchandise I create/sell

- teabags for good night's sleep

- incense to promote good sleep

- dream catchers with runes inscribed and magic infused to block the mind of the sleeper from nightmare Creatures or dream demons/ sleep paralysis demons

#dreaming of you • ozymandias #more notes i found in my phone from years ago kdjdkd

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gnhaedam · 1 year ago

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{ . . . } "haedam?" he whispers, feeling along the back of the factory tentatively. "are you here?"

the table where he settles, the table where he falls. everything has always been practiced to him, but he's never had to learn how to sit so close to wanting, not anything with an ache like that because he knew it to be familiar, he knew saein and he knew his memories that followed him everywhere, like the angels did, expected them to come back, yes, he was good at pretending with that. pretending not to see, but with saein sitting right in front of him, it's all he can see-- all he tries not to, caught up in idle conversation led by his parents, conversation ignored to the moon's and haedam's every attempt at connection is something that passes, a gaze to one side, the other, saein right in front of him. saein right in front of him.

he eats, it's empty. he whispers a quiet reminder to the food, hushed, for him and his parents, before they let it touch their mouths. to the mountain our thanks, to the mountain we return, thank you for this meal, for providing us with the nourishment we need to thrive. us, to flourish, us to give back to what you have given. to the mountain, for the mountain, thanks-- we give our thanks.

a touch, too much to ask. a gaze, something he can barely afford, but he's greedy for, finding each moment he can pass it off if only to keep proving to himself again and again that saein is right there to return it, content to look even if saein is looking down at the table, if he can't catch his gaze, it's enough to see him sitting there, so far and yet so close.

the evening drags. that pen burns in his pocket, and when he rises for a break to the bathroom, it's with the swipe of a piece of paper on a counter. a ripped edge, scrawled against the wall and tucked back into his pocket before anyone can even inquire after him being gone. that red ink that bleeds across the town because of his own fingers, the bleeding that he really only ever wanted saein to come back and see, and now it's all he can do to reveal himself right in his gaze. that wanting, all it does is burn, move him forward.

so he slips it into his pocket.

it's the closest he's been and yet he is unable to linger, it's supposed to be a moment, forgotten, for anyone else but the two of them. it's all he could manage, on the way out and right behind his parents, bidding them an evening's walk back home even if his heart won't stop shaking in his chest. those postcards, tucked away back home where haedam's been reading over them, pressing fingertip to page just to touch, a world away, even if the words aren't meant for him, it was still saein he was looking for.

…

it's saein he's looking for.

the window had creaked open easy, something practiced, these nights, done with bated breath and careful, calloused fingers, dressed in worn jeans and holding his boots in one hand, thumping down to the ground and easing his way off of the property. he'd taken this route before, barefoot and feeling the wind creep past the gaps in his button down, flashlight in his shoes, laces swinging, until he finally puts them on when the sidewalks start turning up and it's no longer grass beneath his feet anymore. to the mountain, he'll have the mountain with him, just how he likes, rumbling right within his grasp.

eun factory is a ghost, it's familiar. there's a part of him that wonders if saein even would think the red bled onto the page was haedam reaching out for him in his own way, would even meet him here after all these years, when he remembers how their voices used to sound echoing off the walls, the laughter, the creeping feeling that they shouldn't be there, but there was adventure in it, anyways. adventure, with saein, with the mountain watching over them.

mountain forgive him. he had been finding so much refuge in the night, lately, and now saein was out there waiting for him in it. he hopes, he hopes. it's all he's ever done, and it is all he knows.

his boots kick up dust, then dirt. he edges around the factory for that fence that's rusting into the ground, right before the break of trees that loom, dark and wanting, just in the sights of it. the mountain watching, too, a presence behind him, no angels to follow him here into the dark. his fingers skirt the bricks, flashlight tucked into his back jeans pocket, and he stops, breath in his throat, when he hears a voice.

his heartbeat loud in his ears, he keeps walking, keeps trailing a path against the dirt and the bricks, mountain forgive him, mountain forgive him, he thinks he forgot home until he knew it again right now. right now.

"saein?" he says, quiet, quiet. there, a figure in the dark, he thinks, squinting through the long grass overgrown, the forest that threatens to overtake. "i'm here. is that you?" he calls out, steps again, once more.

maybe an angel, maybe who he's been looking for ever since he left.

#* -- for saein #* -- words weaved for memory

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moonlitdesertdreams · 3 years ago

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It's only sixteen hours...

A/N: This is just a little piece that I found in my drafts from a while ago. If there's interest, I'll definitely start on a part two for you guys :)

Tags: Jason Todd x f!reader, Jason Todd x you, Jason Todd x Reader, Jason Todd, Red Hood, Bruce Wayne, Batman, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Batfam, Batfamily, DC Imagines, Red Hood x f!reader, Red Hood x you, Red Hood x Reader, The Joker, Death in the Family, Lazarus Pits, Nightwing, Robin, Damian Wayne, Richard Grayson, Dick Grayson, Batfamily fluff, deaging, deaged jason todd

WARNINGS: None :)

Summary: Two Robins stopping by your apartment is never a good sign. Especially when they have a very small, very familiar kid in tow.

Word Count: 1.1k+

**gif does not belong to me**

“Just a minute! Christ, these pizza guys get more impatient by the day.”

The woman stalks from her frankly understocked bathroom, hair half-dry and blowdryer still hot on the counter. She snatches a beat-up leather wallet on her way to the door, kicking discarded boots out of the way.

“What’s the damage?” She calls, likely loud enough to irritate her upstairs neighbor.

“Oh, you’ll see.” The voice is familiar. Very familiar.

Hand on the doorknob, she halts and huffs a sigh. “Go away, Tim. Jason isn’t even here.”

“Listen, it’s important-”

He starts off with her real name, which gives her pause, as Tim Drake- and all of the Waynes- have been calling her Bug for as long as she’s known them. There’s only two situations she can fathom where Tim would dare use her real name; the first possibility was he had a death wish, and the second was that something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

Bug grinds her teeth before cracking the apartment door and nudging Jason’s pile of miscellaneous weapons to the side. To her surprise, it’s Damian’s face that greets her, complete with a domino mask and sweaty hair. A hood conceals the rest of his face, which connects to a baggy sweatshirt and blue jeans he’s somehow managed to slide over his costume.

“Damian? Why are you here?” She demands, leaning against the doorframe.

Damian, uncharacteristically silent, shifts awkwardly and points to his left, just out of Bug’s line of sight. She pokes her head into the hallway and observes a similarly dressed Tim Drake, face ducked into his hood while he holds a small, sleeping child in his arms that appears to be wrapped in Damian’s cape.

“Can we come in? Not exactly inconspicuous out here.”

Bug is not a fan of young children, and she loathes babysitting, but there is something in Tim’s voice making her stomach twist. His usual robotic tone and calculated movements are absent, and his brow is creased deeply enough that it looks like it hurts.

“Make it fast.” She permisses, stepping to the side.

The child in Tim’s arms shifts, but remains with its head tucked into his shoulder. Both boys shuffle inside, Damian making himself at home on her couch while Tim lingers near the kitchen.

“So, we were fighting this…” Tim scratches his head, careful not to jostle the child, “Wizard.”

Lifting a brow, Bug smirks. “Let me guess. Bruce is adopting another kid that needs a checkup?”

Being associated with the Bat-family and holding a medical degree often resulted in Bug playing pro-bono street doctor. That is, until she nags Bruce about the cost of supplies and he gives an excessive amount of money to continue the care for his ragged group of vigilantes.

“Not exactly. I mean, Jas- er, he does need a checkup.” Tim stammers, “He was caught up in the fight with the wizard.”

Bug’s tongue slides over her teeth and she crosses her arms. “Wanna try that again, Drake?”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna be pissed, and you’re scary when you’re pissed.”

She growls. “Timothy.”

Damian shoots up from the couch, face twisted in irritation. “This immaturity is outrageous.”

He stomps into the kitchen, taking a fierce stance in front of Bug, hands on his hips.

“Todd appeared in the middle of our fight, which had apparently crossed into his ‘territory’.” Damian begins, and Bug feels her stomach begin to drop. “He refused to let those educated in the art of magic continue the battle, and insisted on joining. While failing to properly gauge his enemy’s attacks, he was struck by a spell.”

Yep, that sounded like her Jason. Bug chews on the inside of her cheeks, attempting to read Damian’s face through the domino. “What kind of spell?”

A breathy laugh slips out of Tim’s mouth, and you look to the older Robin. “The kind that, uh, makesyouintoachildtemporarily.”

Bug blinks. “...Makes you into a child?”

Damian motions to the child in Tim’s hold who is now beginning to shift, small hands clutching fistfuls of his sweatshirt.

“Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Bug snaps, imitating Damian’s regal accent and posture. “Shut it, hellspawn. Like someone getting fucking de-aged is obvious.”

“Tt. With your level of education, it should be obvious at this point.” Damian shoots back.

Bug opens her mouth to return his attitude, when a small voice beats her.

“Leave her alone, Demon brat.”

She looks towards the source, finding familiar teal eyes staring at her. He looks similar enough, Bug thinks, with the piercing eyes and white streak tangled in with black bangs. Though he can’t be made to look older than five or six, something on his face tells her the memories didn’t fade like his age. Bug smiles in his direction, unsure how to approach the situation.

“He remembers everything, but as far as Zatanna could tell, he has the emotional processing of a child. So, it’s a lot. A lot for his brain right now.” Tim murmurs.

Tiny Jason twists to look at his younger but bigger brother. “I might be pint-sized, but I can still kick your ass, Replacement.”

Bug bursts out laughing at the nickname. Hearing such a small person speak with such animosity is hilarious, no matter the situation.

“Doubt it, Todd.”

Jason seems to consider Bug’s reaction and Tim’s words a moment. At first his face grows frustrated, and then begins to redden. Bug tilts her head to the side. “Jason, honey, are you alright?”

Those familiar eyes track to her face again, but this time they’re brimming with tears. A pang of guilt slams into Bug’s gut, and she immediately feels guilty. Tim has just told her he was emotionally vulnerable.

“I’m f-fine.” He starts, “This is all just s-stupid.”

Bug feels a tug on her heart, reaching a hand to brush it over Jason’s unruly hair. “I know it’s all really hard right now.”

Blustery eyes focus on Bug just as his hands reach out, and she doesn’t hesitate to extract him from Tim’s hold. It seems his clothes have been shrunk with him, and if he wasn’t a sniffling mess, Bug would tease him for how adorable his Red Hood armor was.

“Shh, Jason. It’s alright.” She soothes.”

And just like that, Damian and Tim are strolling towards the door, Tim with your abandoned mug of coffee in one hand. “Thanks, Bug!”

“Um, excuse me?” Her tone stops both Robins in their tracks. “I have questions, Tim.”

Jason continues his soft whimpering, face hidden in Bug’s shoulder.

Tim drains her coffee mug despite its lukewarm state. “Zatanna said it should wear off shortly, within uh… what’d she say again Damian?”

“Sixteen hours.”

“...Sixteen hours, yes. Have fun!”

Before Bug can argue, the door slams.

“Well Jason, I guess it’s you and me.”

As always, if you enjoy please like/reblog and check out my links for more :)

Masterlist | Send me ideas

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lune-hime · 4 years ago

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Blast From the Past (Logan/ f!Reader)

Word count: 10k (cause its all 3 chapters from my AO3 account)

On his journey through the past, Logan encounters an unexpected surprise.

Inspired by Days of Future Past.

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

“Seriously Charles, your little playground buddy here screws us over a million times in the future, don’t you think we should- Holy Shit .”

Logan’s boots scuffed against the polished wood flooring as his long stride screeched to a sudden halt. There sitting in one of the plush armchairs of the professor’s office was an intimately familiar face, albeit a younger one.

Your head snapped up at the sudden blurt of profanity. The plastic training balls flitted down into your lap as the electric energy that surrounded them retracted into your fingertips.

“ Please , cleanse your tongue Logan.” Charles chided and walked through the doorway. The professor’s eyes met yours in an apologetic smile. Charles looked from the practice tools resting on your lap back up to your slightly startled expression. He sucked in a breath and then scrunched his eyes in remembrance.

“I’m sorry my dear, our lesson today had slipped my mind.” Charles sighed, leaning tiredly against his desk. You shook your head, waving his absence off with a polite grin.

“It’s alright, professor. Things come up I understand. I’ve been making some progress just practicing on my own.” You reassured, forcing a smile while trying very hard to not make eye contact with the lumberjack in the office entryway.

He looked like he had just stepped out of one of your dad’s rock albums. His tight jeans were clasped with an ornate belt buckle that tucked in a cherry red plaid shirt that clung to hardened muscles. His eyes were mature but swam with amber vigor held under thick lashes that were just as dark and luscious as his hair and groomed beard.

The fact that you were able to take all these features in showed that your attempts at averting your attention were faulty. Your skin prickled as the two of you locked eyes and energy almost instinctively was drawn from your itchy fingertips. Something did indeed draw you to him, whether it was just because he was acting strange or something deeper, yet the way he looked at you wide eyed and slack jawed creeped you out. The professor had this knack for attracting the weirdos of the world. You supposed that was the foundation of your academy, after all.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Charles replied, his eyes wrinkled up in a smile that briefly hid the bags under them. The professor looked absolutely exhausted. His shoulder length hair was mussed out of place and he practically collapsed into the plush cushions of his desk chair. He must have had a rough day of some sort, but you knew better than to pry in the dealings of such a high profile mutant.

Looking insatiably more lively was his friend who was still regarding you like a dumbfounded high schooler. You eyed him again with a slight grimace, not liking the feeling of being like a deer in his headlights. And yet, the energy you picked up from him was strangely magnetic.

Charles regained consciousness of the awkward silence and unintroduced guest and snapped out of his weariness.

“Ah! Logan this is-” The professor began.

“Y/N.” Charles finished, with Logan chiming in unison. Charles furrowed his brow in confusion and your eyes went as wide as the Victorian saucers on the Professor’s wall. Logan’s body stiffened like aged roadkill once he realized what he had just let slip from his lips.

“How do you know my name?” You asked in accusation, your tone seeped in wary distaste. Logan felt like he had been doused in flames. As if he was about to burn up and fall through a hole in the office while the two of you watched over his demise. Honestly, that wouldn’t be so bad.

“Uh-Charles was rambling on and on about his students on the way here to his office.” Logan stated gruffly, shifting his feet and stuffing his hands in his pockets. Fuck he was a dickwad. He only sounded vaguely convincing and left both you and Charles eyeing him.

“Yes, you do know how much I like to praise my students.” Charles confirmed with a warm smile.

You nodded once and pursed your lips. While flattered that the professor was talking about you to random people, you were nonetheless very much weirded out now.

“Well-I should get going. I don’t want to interrupt.” You stammered and awkwardly shuffled out of your seat, stumbling to collect all your belongings. You shoved the training balls back into their case without sparing either one of them at last glance. You weaved past Logan and out the door, a wave of fuzzy tingly buzzing between your forms as you sped walked away.

“Alright, thank you darling. I promise we will resume our scheduled lessons tomorrow!” Charles called after you, voice increasing in volume but not intensity as you zoomed away.

Two pairs of eyes traveled along with you, Charles’ stopping to glare at Logan who was still regarding you as you disappeared into the sea of students. He cleared his throat and Logan whipped his head back around.

“I most certainly was not talking about her.” Charles quipped with a raised eyebrow. Logan retained his steely composure but on the inside he was drop kicking himself. Charles gave him a stern look, one that Logan was all too familiar with in the present, and inhaled deeply.

“It’s curious how seeing as you do not possess a telepathic mutation how you would know her name. Are you trying to make my student uncomfortable? I hope it’s not for the reason I’m thinking of.” Charles mused, leaning back in his chair with an inquisitory glare on his features.

“For fucks sake Charles-no-definately not. I’m not trying to try anything. It’s-” Logan exhaled in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. He was here to finish one job and leave as little impact on the past as he could. And now he just fucked with one wing of the universe’s butterfly.

“We know each other in the future.” Logan confessed, knowing that lying to Charles would only make things more complicated and suspicious. Plus the man would worm his way into his head eventually like he always does. Young Charles was just as sneaky as his older self at peeping into the thoughts of others if he deemed necessary.

“Ah I see. You’re lovers.” Charles slyly stated, eyes alight with amusement as he sifted through Logan��s memories. Logan tightened his jaw at Charles’ excited giggle. He subdued his annoyance at the invasion of privacy for the sake of clarity.

“Eventually.” Logan grumbled. "Now get the hell out of my mind."

Logan huffed and cooled his heated knuckles. Lest we not have a scratch fest between Megamind and a pokemon.

“Do you have enough information now?” Logan grumbled and shook him out of his thoughts.

“I apologize for preemptively judging you. But you know how it is, I only just met you. And the safety of my students is of the utmost priority.” Charles stated with just enough sharpness to convey his seriousness between his cheeky quips. "But I can sense you've been genuine."

⇷⛒⇸

The following afternoon your heart was still beating erratically every time you crossed the grand hallways of the mansion to weave in and out of class. The dread of accidentally interacting with the man from yesterday haunted your every step. His energy was an oxymoron; both alluring and repulsive in such a way it jumbled up your state of mind. You would have never envisioned anything like this to kick off your last year of highschool.

Your hand was on the cool brass knob of one of the professor’s doors when you heard muffled voices from within the room. Your hand halted and you quickly released the handle as if it was molten metal. Pressing your ear to the wood, your ear was met with the calm voice of the professor.

Logan, I know you want to ask about Y/N.

Then there was silence. A silence that left his sentence hanging in anticipation that was almost unbearable. The mention of your name made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

Am I even allowed to? The familiar rumble of the lumberjack asked and you sucked in a breath.

I don’t see why not, as we both know the outcome of the future already.

Thousands of hypothetical scenarios behind that statement flew through your mind and sent your stomach flipping. But you were so curious.

How’s she doing? Logan asked in a tone as soft as morning coffee.

Swimmingly, she’s one of the strongest mutants under my teaching. Charles replied matter of factly.

No, I mean- Logan sounded like this wasn’t the correct answer.

She told me that her high school years weren’t the easiest on her, especially with her family.

Your heart beat like a drum violently against your ears. How did he know about your family situation? What did he mean you told him?

Ah. Well, yes, they have not been the most supportive of her expressing her mutation to say the least. Sadly that’s how it is for many of the other children too, but they haven’t been here to bother her as of late.

There was more silence that left you scrambling with your thoughts as you grappled with these revelations.

I know she can get caught up in her head. Hearing how she struggled...I always wished I could have taken that pain away. Logan added with the most sympathy you have heard in his voice. His comment sent a sharp pang into your chest and caused your energy to radiate in an electric blue aura around your body; a phenomenon that occurred when you felt intense emotion.

Charles sighed and you heard shuffling as his voice got closer to the door.

Logan, you can’t protect her from things that happened before you came into her life. And I assure you that she has a permanent home here should she wish to stay.

Suddenly a foreign pressure was poking either side of your hips, making you yelp and zone out of your eavesdropping. Your already buzzing energy zapped the disturbance and you whipped around to see a groaning Jean doubled over behind you.

You cursed knowing that the two on the other side of the door probably heard the commotion. Gripping Jean by her backpack straps, you dragged her around the corner and behind the nearest pillar with haste.

“God Y/N, why are you so on edge? And did you really have to zap me?” Jean exclaimed with the most balanced mixture of annoyance and concern. You immediately shut her up with a finger to her lips.

Not a moment later the door to the office opened to reveal the cause of your anxiety striding down the hall.

“THAT.” You whisper yelled, pointing at Logan. Both your eyes followed him down the entirety of the hallway, kids parting around him like the red sea, until you watched him turn a corner.

“More like who. Who was that?” Jean asked curiously, straightening her backpack out from your sudden attack. You fixed your eyes on the corner he had turned for a few more seconds to fully make sure the coast was clear. Then you let out a relieved sigh and turned to look at your friend.

“I don’t know, but he seems to know me.”

⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸

“Good, good you aren’t straining as much, your mind is much more focused.” Charles praised you from where he sat in front of you. Your eyes were closed, letting your energy guide the metal balls to various heights and patterns.

“I think you won’t need these private lessons soon anymore, Y/N. Well done.” Charles praised you as you carefully lowered the balls down into your lap. His praise drew a bright smile from your lips, to which Charles matched. His greatest joy in life now was seeing his society-rejected pupils build confidence.

You smiled bashfully and shook your head at his compliments.

“Don’t say that, then I don’t have an excuse to spend time with my favorite professor.” You replied playfully. You were thankful that you had such a friendly bond with your teacher. Something comfortable, that left you feeling accomplished and motivated and unlike many other relationships you had before coming to this school. Charles chuckled fondly and held out his hands to take the training balls to which you gladly handed over. Your mutation was hard for you to control at times, and when it did get out of control you tended to spiral. When Charles discovered this, he had scheduled extra training times where the two of you grew to enjoy one another’s company.

Your mind backtracked to your mystery lumberjack and how his aura was almost as electric as your energy.

“Um-Professor can I ask you a question?” You asked hesitantly, as if you were careful to not step on any cracks within the conversation. Charles looked up from where he was placing the training equipment back in their case.

“Of course, what’s troubling you?” He assured, sensing your apprehension.

“Who was that guy with you yesterday?” You asked and anxiously met his gaze.

“Eavesdropping on my private conversations?” He inquired with a knowing smile. His question was stern but his eyes retained their playfulness.

“I-I’m sorry Professor, I was on my way to my lesson and I heard him ask about me-” You sputtered, feeling a heat pool to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“It’s alright, Y/N. I know you heard our discourse yesterday.” Charles said with the ginger voice that could make anyone’s nerves mellow.

Of course he knew. He knew everything .

“I just can’t shake this weird feeling he gave me. Thinking about the way he looked at me makes my energy flare up.” You revealed, hugging your arms to yourself as just the thought of the man sent your mutation into a low azure trill.

Charles noted the blurs of tendrils seeping through the stitches in your cardigan. With a sympathetic smile he came to sit across from you again. He took your hands in his and squeezed, a comforting gesture that quelled your mutation.

Well, he had no choice now but to tell you at least some of the truth. Lest he have you be burdened and worried by the harmless situation. He pitied Logan as well. A man with so much weighing on his shoulders shouldn’t have to carry one more insignificant misunderstanding.

“Do you promise to keep this between us?” Charles asked, looking for a promise within your gaze. You nodded sincerely.

“Logan is-” Charles was silent for a moment while he calculated how he wanted to articulate his response.

“Logan has, with the help of a mutant who is able to send people through time, traveled from the future to our present to take care of some things.”

Whoa. Your mind was blown to say the least. You had no idea that such a feat was even possible and a plethora of questions buzzed in your ears. But did you really want to know? Plus, you gathered that you weren’t supposed to know.

“I thought you would be more shocked.” Charles chuckled at your bewildered look. You collected yourself and laughed nervously with him.

“I mean, if you can read minds and I can create energy, why wouldn’t time travel be possible?” You countered, trying your best to accept the supernatural situation for what it was. Then again, everyone at your school was above average .

“Fair enough.” Charles grinned.

“Logan was shocked to see you because he is acquainted with you in the future, that is all.” He stated and patted your hands lightly. “You would be spooked by something like that as well, wouldn’t you?”

Huh.

You nodded, a wave of sympathy rushing through you. If the professor was so nonchalant about everything, you figured that you had nothing to worry about. You trusted him with everything you had, after all.

“There’s nothing you need to worry about, my dear. I will make sure of that. I hope that cleared things up with as little as I can tell you.”

It didn’t clear things up in the slightest.

⇷⛒⇸

Damn, nothing hit better than moose tracks ice cream at 1:12 am on a Thursday night. A woman on some late-night soap opera on the kitchen’s grand tv drawled squeakily about losing her husband to her much more voluptuous sister while you took another spoonful of chocolate and caramel. You were thankful Kurt had not found your newest stash of insomnia ice cream yet, as tonight you were feeling particularly restless. Your usual anxieties (your mutation, the secrets you still kept from your family, and the normal teenage woes) were a dull trickle compared to the itch to know more about Logan. You tried to take comfort in the drawl of mediocre television and sugar.

The professor’s words obsessively circled through your mind as you picked at every letter for a deeper meaning.

Logan is acquainted with you in the future.

The words revealed so much and so little at the same time. You had wanted the professor to define "close" but didn’t press further as you knew he was too sly to give too many details. The possibilities of your relationship with the stranger sent your head spiraling in a way you couldn’t tell if he made you nauseous with excitement or anxiety.

However, now that you knew that the two of you were familiar down the road, it did make him seem like less of a creep and you slightly regretted making him feel like one. You couldn’t fully blame him for reacting the way he did. Although you don’t regret shooting daggers at him.

With every bite of delicious dessert you tried to fathom his blast to the past which was actually a blast to your, well, present. You were halfway shoving a hearty chunk of ice cream into your mouth when a figure appeared in the doorway. You assumed it was a random student and did a double-take to find to your horror it was the man who was taking up too much space in your mind.

The sudden movement charged you into a startle, nearly jumping off the stool and almost accidentally deep throating your spoon.

He had ditched his patterned button-down and tight jeans for one of the professor’s training sweatshirts and heather sweatpants that equally left nothing to the imagination. Immediately you felt your ears simmer with a fuzzy warmth.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. It's Logan.

His name alone was enough to spark your energy and you could feel the diluted hum at the back of your head.

“You alright?” He asked, the gravel of his tone making it oh so much worse. He looked genuinely concerned. His body lurched forward in the slightest when your coughing grew intense but retained his movements. He didn’t know you at this time and he had to be careful not to cross any boundaries.

“Yeah.” You replied after one final trachea ripping cough, throat burning with unwanted dairy down the wrong pipe. You internally cursed yourself for always being so awkward. You wiped the stray ice cream splatters from your lips with the back of your hand and set the spoon back in the container.

There was a moment of thick silence. Both of you clearly had heaps of unspoken words you wished to say to one another; you were just too overwhelmed to ask and Logan didn’t want to freak you out any more than he already had.

“I didn’t think anyone would be up this late. Sorry to crash your-uh-” Logan raised his brow at the wailing coming from the tv. You quickly slapped the button on the remote to lower the volume.

“-drama.”

“I-it’s okay, you don’t have to leave.” You invited, cautiously meeting his eyes once you tore them away from your ice cream. “The kitchen is a public space.”

Logan nodded and walked towards the fridge. When he bent down a clear view of his ass smacked you in the face and you snapped your head in the other direction so quickly you almost got whiplash. He rummaged through the professor’s alcohol, sneering at his selection until he found a bottle of beer that was to his liking.

He came to sit on the other side of the island from you, iron kitchen chair screeching against the floor in the silence you two shared. You rubbed your hands along your thighs to keep them from being clammy with nerves. There were a million things you wanted to ask him but zero ways you felt you knew how. Thank God he spoke up first.

“Do you usually stay up until 1 am on school nights listening to shitty soap operas?” The statement might have been judgemental coming from anyone else. But from him, he had this glint in his eyes. Playful, even. It made butterflies scatter into every crevice your body had.

“Only on the nights I can’t sleep.” You replied with an anxious chuckle.

“Any particular reason that tonight is one of those nights?” Logan pressed, popping the cap off his beer bottle effortlessly. The stream rose from the drink akin to how you felt your energy could flood through your pores any minute now.

It’s you, buddy.

“Um, just your average anxiety. “ You said, trying to sound as casual as you could speaking to a man from the future.

Logan rubbed his thumb idly along the bottle, nodding once and taking a swig. You yearned to know what he was thinking about. About his mission, about his future. About you.

“About school? Boy trouble?” He asked with a quirked brow.

I guess you could consider it boy trouble if you squinted.

You breathily exhaled, resembling a laugh. Fuck it.

“The professor told me who you are.” You blurted out. Logan looked at you inquisitively with his full attention on you now. Your promise was officially broken.

“Did he now?” He quipped, his mind swimming with shitty cover-up stories.

“More like I…I know we know each other in the future. I don’t know you personally.” You clarified. The heat on your face was the opposite of Logan’s ghostly paleness.

“Damn Charles ans his loose lips.” Logan mumbled. His throat felt so dry no matter how big of a swig of beer he downed.

“It’s not his fault though! I was the one who was eavesdropping…” You confessed with a feeling of equal parts guilt and non-resentment. While you felt bad invading a private conversation now that you knew what you knew you wanted to know more. And for some inexplicable reason, it felt so naturally easy for you to talk with him despite his intimidating exterior.

“Is that your pass time?” Logan asked with a familiarity in his tone that gave you goosebumps.

“It was an accident I swear! I was on my way to my lesson when I heard you guys talking.”

“Chill, kid. I’m not mad.” Logan chuckled. The smile your panic conjured on his features held a fondness that made you feel as if your bones were hollow and filled with helium.

“Did he say anything else?” He asked.

“No, he just said we are acquainted.” You stated, not having any more fruitful information to give.

Logan felt like he could breathe again. Guess Charles did know how to strategically keep secrets.

“Yeah, that’s true.” Logan said and immediately chased his words with beer. He needed the familiar comfort of the drink to drown his nerves.

You bit your lip and dug into your ice cream once more, unsure to press any further. There was that palpable silence once again that not even the television mother screaming at her whore of a daughter could subdue.

You needed to know. The insatiable curiosity clung to your tongue like your last bite of chocolate.

“Um, but just- how close are we exactly?” You squeaked, voice rising an octave in apprehension.

Logan felt as if his heart was being stabbed by the very adamantium that once lined his skeleton. The answer to your question could have rolled so effortlessly off of his tongue. He regarded your nervously expectant gaze; the rawness of your lips from worrying them, the flush of your round cheeks. He lingered on your eyes where his favorite blend of colors resided. They were identical to the ones that greeted him every morning. But they looked at him with the absence of their shared memories that made Logan’s separation from you sting even more intensely than it had already.

He thought of the last time he had seen his Y/N. Her body was limp and bloodied as she laid on the metal slab. The ghastly sounds of screams and metallic whorling surrounded their compound as Storm bent over her and attempted to stop the gooey blood from seeping out of her torn skin. Kitty was urging Logan to relax, to not let his mind linger. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his beloved, though. Her broken body anchored him to his hellscape.

And then she smiled at him. As if her arm wasn’t twisted at an unnatural angle. As if she hadn’t gotten slammed by that sentinel. As if she were waiting for him outside of the Professor’s office to grab a coffee between classes.

Her throat strained to produce any semblance of words. And when she did, it was a sentence that made Logan want to cry out in agony as he was blasted through time and space. Five words he had said to her too many times to count.

“I’ll see you later, bub.”

So Logan’s logic for preemptively deciding to fuck all time travel rules and tell you was:

What if he never got to actually see you later ?

What if you had bled out or gotten captured while he was prancing around in the past?

His Y/N would always drill it into him that he was allowed to be selfish sometimes. That he had one of the biggest hearts of anyone she had ever known, despite doing a convincing job of hiding it. That when he felt an emotion he felt it like a searing hot iron against his skin.

He hoped that you wouldn’t hate him for using this at his time to be selfish. Because goddam did it feel good to see you again, even if this you didn’t know him yet.

And for all he knew this could be the last time he saw that magnificent swirl of chromatics staring at him, waiting for him to explain himself.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” He asked, giving you one final chance to change your mind.

You nodded a little too quickly for your liking.

“Only if it doesn’t mess up anything in your time.” You added.

“I think anything would be better than that at this point.” Logan chuckled dryly. Nothing you could do in this time could make his future any more horrid than it already was.

You waited in anticipation, spoon clutched tightly in your hand. Logan noticed it vibrated with a low hum.

“We’re...together.” He declared, watching you carefully to gauge your reaction.

Oh.

Okay.

Logan had to swallow his laughter as your eyes grew so wide they looked as if they were going to pop out of your head and roll into the ice cream tub. Meanwhile, your brain was trying to put two and two together.

You. Him. Together.

…

Get. It. Me.

“I get it if that’s weird for you to hear-”

“No! I mean yes, but I’m not creeped out anymore.” You sputtered, your words ejected from your mouth quickly. Logan regarded you softly. He thought your reaction was cute.

“Well, that’s a relief.” He exhaled.

You gave up on subduing the impending blush and gave into the flustered warmth. You suddenly could not bear to look at his handsome face and your eyes trailed down to his hands.

Specifically his left hand.

Where a delicate silver band juxtaposed his strong ring finger.

“WTF ARE WE MARRIED?” You shrieked, unable to contain your surprised gasp. Your spoon slammed into the wood of the table with such an abruptness that startled even Logan.

He had honestly forgotten the significance to others of the precious band. With all of the darkness that surrounded him and the pressure of a sustainable future pushing down on his shoulders he hadn’t even had time to think about much of anything. But he would never dare take it off. It was the only piece he had of you now.

“Uh, yeah. Kind of a last-minute decision.” He said with a half-grin the shape of a crescent moon.

Kinetic tendrils radiated out of your body with such intensity that it casted a luminous blue aura around you against the dimmed kitchen lighting. You were fanning yourself with your hands in an attempt to calm yourself down from your shock; half from the bomb he just dropped on you and half from letting your mutation get out of hand like this. Logan patiently waited for you to come down from your high but couldn’t help the fond smile that blossomed.

And then he let his body think before his brain. He reached his hand out and gently poked your cheek. However, it had the opposite reaction it usually had. When his finger met your skin, the zaps only intensified in the spot of contact. Logan hissed at the little jolt of electricity.

“Huh, in my time that usually works.” He mumbled. He watched as your embarrassment grew and retracted his hand. He would use your cheek as an off switch in the future. Then he realized he had fucked up again and that he had just poked a damn kid that didn’t even know him.

“Uh, sorry again. That was outta line.” He apologized, regret evident on his features. You shook your head, a few blue sparks prickling from the corners of your eyes. The seriousness in his voice mixed with the sincerity of his action started to calm you down and your energy began dissipating slowly.

“I-It’s okay. If future me trusts you enough to marry you, you must be a good guy.” You exhaled a bashful chuckle and fiddled with the edges of the ice cream tub.

Logan wanted to roar with self-deprecating laughter at your comment because he definitely did not think he was a good guy. He would forever be perplexed as to why you agreed to spend the rest of your life with him. When he didn’t respond your brain spiraled into overthinking.

“Sorry.” You apologized, rubbing your arms along the sleeves of your cardigan.

“For what?” Logan asked with a newfound delicateness as he waited for you to clarify.

“U-um, people are usually freaked out when my mutation gets crazy like that.” You sputtered. No stranger had ever been so casual about your mutation before besides the Professor.

“It has never bothered me. Except when you use it to zap me.” Logan explained, adding the last bit hoping it would ease your apprehension.

Oh duh. Of course he was used to it, he’s your fucking husband. You let out an airy chuckle at the thought of you zapping the wolf of a man just as you did to Jean yesterday.

“I’ve always thought it was beautiful.” Logan sighed with a glaze over his eyes. You gasped at his openness and he came back to the reality of the situation.

“Shit. Sorry. Weird comment.” He huffed and shook his head. He was really losing his filter with you.

You shook your head vehemently. Honestly, you didn’t mind his offhand comments. It made you feel...well...loved.

“No! It’s okay. I just-um thanks.” You smiled softly through fields of blooming roses. The tension you had initially felt drifted away like a clearing of fog. You put faith in your future self to associate with people who you knew were good for you. At least you hoped. His intimidating aura that had you weary before was completely worn down. You oddly felt so at ease in his presence. It was a total 180 from the day before. You began to get bolder with your speech. You noticed all you had been focusing on was you, and you desperately wanted to know more about him.

“So, on the flip side it must be weird seeing a younger version of me who didn’t know you existed until a day ago.” You laughed at your own sentence and Logan did too.

“Yeahhh, this whole experience has been a trip.” He nodded and took another gulp of beer.

“I’m sure you must be working towards something super important if you’ve traveled back here in time.” You said, biting your lip in an internal decision of pressing further.

“What kind of stuff do you have to do? Or is that a secret of the future?”

“Definitely a secret.” He stated with a firm nod. You pursed your lips and hummed in agreement.

“Well, I hope you can get back to everyone, and me, safely.” You added with a timid swirl of your spoon in your ice cream.

“Thanks, kid. Me too.”

You were unsure where to go from there in the conversation but you oh so longed to keep talking. So you went to the most obvious topic for any mutant.

“So, um, what is your mutation?” You asked, perking up at all of the infinite possibilities.

Logan paused momentarily. No one has ever asked to see his mutation before. His claws were more of an experience first, ask later. It felt...refreshing.

Without introducing it, he slid his right hand along the table and balled it into a fist in front of you. The tight muscles flexed as the skin of his knuckles ripped apart to reveal ivory claws of bone. You gasped; in fear at first but when you glanced up at Logan’s unaffected demeanor, it morphed into intrigue.

“Holy shit. Is it painful?” You asked, mesmerized by the way they symmetrically protruded from each piece of flesh. If you had looked up at your kitchen buddy once more your heart would have surely melted. He watched you with a fondness that many strangers would not fathom could come from such a man.

Most of the time he absolutely loathed himself, his mutation, and what it could do to those he loved. But with you, even oblivious, younger you, it had never been the what if. It was always the is , and you had never not accepted Logan for anything but his whole being; adamantium and all.

“A bit, but I’m used to it after all these years.” He answered gruffly as he felt the uncomfortable squeeze of the claws retracting back into his hand. You observed the process wide-eyed.

“You didn’t need to show me if it hurts! Do you need bandages?” You sputtered. You began freaking out a bit at the scabbing that started to occur.

“Nah, watch.” Logan gestured to his hand. The healing process had already started to kick in and you watched in awe as the skin autonomously stitched itself completely back to normal.

“You can heal.” You stated the obvious in your amazement. Logan chuckled and nodded.

“In the future they are metal. I’ve been trying to get used to the old feeling.” He replied with a flex of his fingers.

“How does that work? Do you get implants or something?” You inquired innocently, blissfully unaware of all the physical hardships that had gone into making him who is he today.

“That’s a story I’ll tell you later.” He said curtly. You picked up on the uneasy energy and nodded in understanding.

“They look kinda like cat claws.” You commented absentmindedly, feeling comfortable enough to start eating your ice cream again. Logan snorted.

“God, you are the same.” Your comment cultivated a fully bloomed grin across his face. You imitated the gesture.

“Really? I’m glad I still have my charm. It’s a relief I didn’t grow up to be stuffy like Hank.” You said with a hint of snark. Logan laughed at your confession and then took another drink of alcohol. It was a beautiful laugh, one that wasn’t as rugged as his outward appearance.

“You aren’t. We wouldn’t have gotten to where we are in the future if you were, trust me.” Logan’s eyes were clouded with a nostalgic haze as he looked at you. There was a duality to his vision; physically he was viewing your past self, but he kept seeing his Y/N in the little gestures and comments you made. It was like he was looking at two people superimposed on the same image. Which was true, in a sense.

“Earlier you said ‘all these years’ like an old man. How old are you? You don’t look older than 30.” You pressed. Logan’s beer got dangerously close to going down the wrong pipe. He would never be able to escape you calling him an old man, would he?

“You really wanna know?”

“Duh.”

He let the anticipation simmer for a few moments.

“143.”

You immediately started stuttering and Logan held up a hand to stop you. He knew he had just ripped a whole new ass-hat of questions but was not going to indulge you. Even if he desperately wanted to continue experiencing your adorable curiosity.

“You’ll find out later.” He promised. You slumped your shoulders in defeat and decided to push your luck with another personal question.

“How do we meet?” You perked up once more.

“Let’s just say it involves torrential rain and a skateboard.” He revealed. The way your face contorted reminded Logan of his Y/N.

“Really looking forward to that one.” You said sarcastically. You studied the soft rain droplets against the grand window panes behind Logan in thought.

“What about Jean? Scott? Ororo? Kurt? The Professor? How are they doing?”

Logan fought to keep his face from falling. Suddenly the harsh reality popped his temporary bubble of sweetness that you had created.

“Sorry, bub. That’s a secret. You gotta find that out for yourself.”

You pouted slightly but nodded in agreement. I guess it would be better to not know. Your mind still swam with so many questions. One in particular was itching to come forth.

“How do I look?” You asked with such a delicacy that made Logan’s heart swell. The older you had confided in him that you never liked how you looked, mutation and all. Once you had worked through becoming more confident in your powers, your confidence in your self appearance naturally followed.

Logan inhaled deeply and gave you a sad half-smile as he saw you begin to sink into yourself once more.

“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Logan reassured. The baritone and the roughness of his voice dictated in such a way that was comforting and like velvet on your ears. It was said with a sincerity that wasn’t laced with lust, just affection.

“Sorry, again. Fuck .” Logan grumbled inwardly. You giggled at his constant attention to making sure he doesn’t come off as creepy.

“Thanks Logan. Future me is lucky to have you.” You said earnestly.

“Ha, once you get there you will see it's really the other way around.”

“I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.” You sighed in contentment.

“There are so many things I want to ask you still.” You professed after a chocolatey spoonful.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he was enjoying it more than he would ever let on. You were always a presence that he relished in. A beacon that brought him so much clarity in the hurricane of shit he was trying to fix.

“Shoot, within reason.” Logan offered, resting his head on his palm and still held his beer in the other. You sat up straight and cleared your throat in preparation.

“Who is president?”

“Nope.”

“Do we have a dog?”

“No pets allowed here.”

“Is NSYNC still together?”

“Do I look like I listen to boybands?”

“Fair enough.”

“Do I get taller?”

“No.”

“Dammit.”

You hesitated then. Logan could see that the next question had gotten lodged in your throat.

“Your family?”

“How did you guess?” You asked with a tinge of shock. Logan was all too familiar with your nervous mannerisms.

“They were the only ones you didn’t ask about.” Logan replied and you smiled flatly.

“Have they been bothering you lately?” He asked in knowing concern.

“When don’t they?” You huffed with an arid exhale.

“Are they less shit right now?” Logan altered the question to be more accurate.

“In a way. But that’s the weird thing.” You paused to gather your thoughts.

“I don’t want them around because they don’t accept me. They make a big deal out of coming to the mansion where us mutants live, yet when I go home I get lectured about suppressing my abnormalities. All they do is make me feel like an outcast. But at the same time when they’re not around I feel like I have no family.” You fought the quiver in your voice as you let your pent up feelings spill out and rest on the table as soupy as your discarded ice cream.

Your confession broke Logan’s heart. He understood the pain of being alone intimately.

“Kid, your family is right under your nose.” He consoled. You gave him a quizzical look.

“Who are you closest to here?” Logan inquired.

“Jean, Kurt, Ororo, Jubilee, the professor, sometimes Scott.”

Logan looked unamused at the mention of the sunglasses boy.

“Bingo.” He stated and leaned back in the kitchen chair.

“Bingo?”

“Those names you just mentioned as far as I’m concerned are as much family as your actual one. You are all going through this shit together and will always have a home in each other.”

You were in awe at his sweetness and his ability to ease your worries with just a simple phrase.

“You go on to make so many kids feel like they have a family, Y/N.” Logan finished with a fond smile.

“I do?” You asked reflexively, still bathing in his honeyed supportive words.

“Mhm.”

His revelation left you with a stupid grin that Logan fought to tease you about. His eyes then fell to the clock on the kitchen counter just behind your shoulder. It was nearing 2 am. Logan figured he could talk to you for a bit longer.

“Here, one little story.” Logan began, sure that this anecdote would cheer you up. He continued to break his one rule of keeping the future hush-hush but he was beyond giving a damn. You were his ultimate weakness, after all, in every version of reality.

Your expression was of pure giddy.

“What’s your dad’s most prized possession?” Logan asked, setting the scene.

“His golf trophy.” You answered without hesitation. You leaned in closer to the counter in anticipation.

“Let’s just say that in a few years time that man will be decorated with three claw marks through his golden ass.” Logan smirked. You laughed in satisfaction. That trophy was all your dad ever talked about and you swore most of the time he cared about it more than you or your little brother.

It was otherworldly. You felt so much affection, affinity, protection, and love from a stranger. You were second guessing if you really weren’t asleep in your bed already and all of this was a fever dream.

And there you stayed for a while longer into the rainy moonlit hours, continuing to chat about anything and everything (within reason). You were surprised that he wanted to even listen to your dumb teenage angst and nerdy ramblings, even if he was your future husband.

When yawns had begun to seep into your speech and Logan’s second beer bottle grew hollow, you decided it was time for you to finally attempt to go back to sleep. It was a school night after all. Logan insisted on walking you back to your room. The journey through mahogany halls and quiet corridors was experienced in silence. You noted how Logan made sure the two of you were walking at least three feet apart for which you guessed was to tame the awkwardness. Your heart panged at his thoughtfulness to not overstep boundaries that you were sure didn’t exist with your future self.

‘This is me.” You cheesily pointed over your shoulder as you arrived at your dorm room. Logan nodded with a sad smile that you chose not to comment on. As he took in your doe eyes and youthful innocence he silently prayed to whatever the higher power in this world was that he wouldn’t do anything to fuck up your future.

His future.

Their future.

Our future.

“Thanks for talking with me so late and putting up with my annoying questions. I know how trippy this situation must be for you.” You said bashfully, trying to quell the smile that kept blossoming further as you thought about your previous conversation.

“Of course, kid. Anything for you, always.” Logan said, catching your contagious grin and returning it.

“Thank you for not being scarred.” He added with a ruffle of your hair. You giggled and nodded once.

“Well...goodnight Logan.” You said with a voice barely above a whisper. You felt your throat attempt to seize up as you uttered the words of your farewell.

Logan sensed your sadness and he playfully smirked.

“It’s only goodnight, bub. Not goodbye forever.” He snickered at the blush his teasing caused.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said gently, lingering for a moment while you turned the knob of your door and disappeared to the other side. Upon hearing the soft snores of Ororo the hand that remained on your doorknob reversed its action so you were now standing in the empty hall once more. You barely caught Logan retreating towards the nearest staircase when you called out.

“Um, Logan?” Your voice was timid, awkward. Logan turned around to see the ginger halo of your energy caressing your skin.

“Yeah?” He answered as you padded over to him.

“Is it okay if I-” Your energy buzzed at the unfinished phrase like delicate blue petals being kissed by the breeze.

“If I give you a hug?”

Logan felt his heart swell to the point that it almost ballooned out of his chest. Utter affection blanketed his features as a tender nostalgic grin tugged at the corners of his lips. You always did know how to bring the teddy bear out of his usual grizzly. He extended his arms outward in a silent invitation. Truth be told, he had wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms in the most innocent of yearning.

You hesitated slightly before entering his embrace. His strong arms enveloped you in a comfort akin to a warm crackling campfire. Your energy kissed Logan’s skin with the familiarity of an old friend and momentarily pacified any worries Logan’s nerves harbored. You melted into his chest and wished you didn’t have to pull away as soon as you did. The feeling Logan swore would get him through his journey back to you.

⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸

Logan rose with the sun and was just about to exit the spacious foyer of the mansion lobby when a muffled thud resounded on the floor just above him. Charles and Hank looked up in mild alarm. Charles halted their departure and waited expectantly. After a few moments, your disheveled form zipped down the stairs; backpack half open, one sneaker dangerously close to being untied, and hair tie clenched tightly between your teeth. The way you were trotting so vigorously made the older men cringe. The image of you face planting down the ornate stairs was not a far cry from reality.

“Wait!” You called breathlessly as you hurried towards the group. You surely would have body slammed Charles if he hadn’t been ready to brace your collision.

“Y/N, shouldn’t you be on your way to class?” The professor questioned in the form of a playful scolding. Your chest heaved and your breaths were ragged.

“I promise I will after I say goodbye to Logan. Give me five minutes, professor!” You pleaded between labored breaths and smiled widely at Logan.

Charles chuckled warmly and nodded. He grabbed Hank by the arm lightly and led him outside into the courtyard, leaving you alone with your lumberjack.

“You know, this isn’t the last time you will see me, kid.” Logan said with a wiggle of his brow. “Just can’t get enough of me no matter what decade can you?”

You snorted and looked at him pointedly.

“More like you can’t get enough of me . Time traveling all the way back here to sabotage my budding romance with Scott.” You feigned annoyance, but your comment seemed to unintentionally piss him off. Wow, you couldn’t wait to find out what kind of beef they had in the future.

“Hold your damn horses, sweetheart. But he and Jean-” He couldn’t bite his tongue quick enough and let a precious piece of information spill from his lips. Your energy threatened to spark at the nickname he spoke so effortlessly.

“They’re fighting after Scott accidentally stood her up when they were supposed to go to the movies-what hey how do you-”

“Not important.” Logan nipped your thought right in the bud.

“Scott asked me to the Professor’s formal. But I would never agree, Jean’s one of my closest friends. I was gonna go with Kurt anyway.” You explained with a shrug.

“A-as friends!” You added quickly and Logan huffed out a laugh.

“Hey, live your life how you want. Just please, anyone but Scott.” He chided with clear amusement sparkling in his eyes. You hummed and bounced on your heels.

“Hmm? So only date Scott?” You challenged with a sing-song to your tone. Logan gave you a long, hard glare before his lips cracked upward.

“Goddamn you are really something.” He chuckled in disbelief.

“How long till we meet again?” You chirped a bit too excitedly for your taste.

“Again, I can’t tell you. But it’s not that far off. Just enjoy the present, do your best, don’t doubt yourself or your abilities.” You nodded at Logan’s sweet words.

“Now come here.” He invited you into his embrace with open arms. You gladly jumped in, his strong arms engulfing your smaller frame. He overwhelmingly smelled like pine and smoke. It was a scent that made you feel like you were huddled around a campfire, delicately blazing brightly against a thick spruce grove. When you pull away, you and Logan exchange one more pair of bright smiles.

“Say hi to me in the future for me! Tell her she looks hot as hell.” You chimed from the mansion doorway.

“You don’t think I don’t already do that?” Logan winked, walking backward and then turning to regroup with your professors. When they were about to get into Hank’s car, you gave one more parting remark.

“Logan!” You called quickly. He turned around, one hand on the backseat door.

“Keep wearing those jeans in the future, your ass looks bomb!” You screeched and with inhuman speed disappeared back into the mansion.

Logan had the faintest of blush dusting his tanned cheeks. Charles roared with laughter, causing Logan to glare at him.

“I guess I was wrong about who the perverted one was.” The professor hummed with a shit-eating grin as Hank shifted the car into drive.

⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸ ⇷⛒⇸

Logan's eyes snapped open when the pressure of his head sent him flying upwards. He fisted the sheets, claws instinctively extending.

Wait.

Sheets?

He looked at his surroundings through ragged breaths. He soaked in every detail of the room, afraid he wasn’t really experiencing reality. The longer he stared, the more he was sure he was definitely in your shared room at the mansion. At the side of the bed was one of his shirts discarded on the floor. Lying next to it was your lace bra-

His eyes widened and he frantically pulled the tee-shirt over his head and burst out of the room. He ran down the hall, his bare feet slapping aggressively against the polished wood. He almost wiped out when he turned the corner to the master staircase. His head was screaming at him to stand still but he resisted, pushing through the bombardment of angry pulses that clenched his skull.

He stopped when he reached the main lobby. He let his mouth fall agape at the state of it. Everything looked blissfully normal. The high ceilings were lined with familiar paintings untouched by destruction. A few students passed him with weird looks as he continued to stare in awe at the perfection in the mundanity of his present. Yet, the sinking feeling that he was still unconscious hooked at his heart.

“In a rush this morning, Logan?” A smooth voice called to him. Logan felt his body freeze over in the icy curls of utter shock. His head swiveled ever so gingerly in the direction of the voice and his breath curdled itself in his throat.

“Jean.” He exhaled, voice a ghost in the air.

“Logan.” Jean responded with a furrow of her brow. Everything about her signaled life; her skin was flushed a plush cream, her hair shown of vibrant embers in the morning sunlight that filtered through the large windows, and her face shown with animated confusion at his strange antics.

Did he succeed?

Did he really do enough?

Jean waited for a few more puffs of deep breaths from the disheveled man before speaking up again.

“You look like you just woke up from a bad night out.” She joked as she walked closer. The crisp tapping of her heels on the floor was sensory overload against his raging headache.

He huffed out a chuckle at her comment. Her concern grew when he continued to stare at her intensely.

“Logan, is everything okay?” She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jumped slightly at the contact but relaxed almost immediately. Logan massaged his temples and scrunched his eyes closed. He inhaled and opened them. To his elation, Jean still stood in front of him. He was starting to believe that he really had just woken up from many years of a torturously gruesome nightmare.

“Yeah-I’m fine. I just need to speak to Charles.” Logan croaked, his vocal cords scratching at the dryness of his throat. Jean nodded with worry laced on her features.

“Okay. He should still be in his office, I just came from there.” She explained and patted his shoulder. When he didn’t budge from his daze, Jean regarded him with the same curious look as the earlier passing students.

“Do you want to come by for a check up later?” She suggested, lip upturning when his eyes continued to bore into her. She waved a hand in front of his face and he blinked a couple times before groaning. He snapped back to the present as his mind continued to swim with his jumbled timelines.

The present.

“Yeah, I think I need that.”

When he stumbled to Charles’ office, his door was cracked open enough for Logan to catch a glimpse at that familiar bald head. He entered the room with the creek of wood that alerted the professor to his arrival. He pivoted his wheelchair to face his guest, sending him a warm smile that stretched all the way to his wrinkled eyes.

“Good morning Logan. Decided to teach history class barefoot today?” Charles remarked. Logan felt himself beginning to space out again like he did with Jean but he fought the numbing haze.

“Actually, I might need some help with that.”

“Help with what?” Charles inquired and narrowed his eyes.

“I’m back.” Logan stated breathlessly. Charles paused and his face contorted in understanding.

“Welcome back.”

⇷⛒⇸

After talking with Charles, Logan found that to his relief, hadn’t missed much. His actions had completely erased the development of the sentinels and had dropped him back off in the present a few months before the catastrophe. He had awkwardly ran into a couple more friends and acquaintances alike on his way back to your room to solve the bare feet problem everyone kept pointing out. He was halfway down your hall when the voice endowed with the energy that powered his very lifeforce jolted him to a stop.

“There you are, Lo.” You called sweetly behind him. When he whipped around, the sight before him bashed him with the raw sharpness of a tsunami wave.

Your hair was pulled out of your face, stray baby hairs delicately caressing the edges of your temple. You looked lovingly comfy; sporting leggings and a sweatshirt you had gotten from the last school trip to the natural history museum. You clutched some paperwork to you as you beamed at Logan with sun rays powerful enough to plow through his chest and spear his heart.

No blood.

No broken bones.

You.

“Did you go on a run?” You asked as you continued walking towards him. Your face morphed in perplexion when you looked to his feet.

“Without shoes?” You giggled. You didn’t get a chance to ask why he wasn’t responding when suddenly you were engulfed in his embrace. The force of him barreling towards you caused you to stagger backward slightly but he held you so tightly as if letting you go would cause you to dissociate into luminous beams of starlight.

“Jesus Logan...Can’t breathe.” You squeaked when he buried his face in the crook in your neck.

He basked in your spirit. Your arms that immediately cradled his body. The way they tightened when you began to sense him shaking. The softness of your skin. The familiar scent of vanilla that had grown to become synonymous with home.

“I’m back.” He breathed into your neck. You ran your hands along his back gently.

“From…?” You asked, still unsure of why he was acting so strangely. Logan kicked himself mentally. Of course you wouldn’t remember.

“My run.” He coughed, face still nestled against your skin. You brushed your fingers through his hair as he inhaled deeply.

“A run in time?” You asked cheekily. You felt his body stiffen and he pulled away to look at you. When your eyes met, eternities of futures, pasts, and presents collided with cosmic swirls. In that moment, time no longer reigned over its kingdom and Logan was no longer its servant.

“Wha-?” He stuttered.

Did you…?

“I saw you half an hour ago. You’re hugging me like we haven’t seen each other in decades.”

Your eyes began bubbling with tears when you saw Logan’s eyes grow wet with years of unspoken emotion. You placed your hands on either side of his face.

“Welcome home.” You rejoiced, leaning up to place your lips lovingly on his. The kiss cemented Logan in this plane of existence, tethering him to today and permanently replacing all of the unperceived sufferings you had experienced. His lips moved against yours with the hunger of a thousand ghastly nights spent in constant fear, thirty days of crippling uncertainty of his return, and one beautiful evening of ice cream and soap operas. Your energy buzzed around the two of you, engulfing Logan in a chamber of velvety heat that he had yearned to feel again.

You responded in full, but could not keep up with his vigor that was still squeezing your lungs. You pulled away, breathlessly taking in his touch starved form.

“I love you, Y/N.” Logan professed. Though his voice was weak, his words could not have been more fortified with passion.

“And I love you, Logan.” You returned, thumbs wiping away the tears that he let fall freely.

“How about you go grab some shoes, and we take a walk. You can finally tell me about what happened in your past-future, alright?” You smiled through your sniffles. Logan only nodded, using the back of his hand to wipe the wetness from his cheeks.

“There’s nothing I would love more than that.” He shakily agreed. You gave him another affectionate grin before taking his hand and leading him to your room.

“Future’s past? Future of the past?” You began rattling off phrases as your face scrunched in thought. Logan smiled widely down at you and shut up your ramblings with another tender kiss. You chuckled and leaned into him.

“Well, I guess whatever future you had is your past now.” You concluded as you reached your door.

“Yeah. My past.”

#fanfiction #marvel #xmen #days of future past #x men fanfiction #logan #logan howlett #wolverine #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #reader insert #x men #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n

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scuttling · 3 years ago

Text

I said I love you, that's forever

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,619 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Fingering, Reader gets drunk, Brief mention of canon-typical violence Summary: This one is sexy, sweet, and fluffy and features Aaron getting used to his new, healthier body. Inspired by @sleepyreaderreads and this ask. Collection: Just The Way You Are Series, Part 1 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Coming Soon!) Part 4 Link to A03 or read below! Being home when Aaron gets home is the best part of having a flexible work arrangement, you have to admit. You’ve been together for five years, but only living together for four months—for one reason or another, mainly his job, it took you a while to reach the cohabitation phase, but neither of you had minded much. You were always spending time together when he was free, and you enjoyed having your own space, so the arrangement worked out for the both of you.

Now, though, as he walks into your home office looking so handsome in a white shirt, black slacks, and burgundy tie, a soft smile on his face, you know without a doubt that you made the right choice by moving in with him. You wouldn’t give this up for anything.

“Hi. How was your day?” he asks, leaning over you for a kiss. He intends to make it quick, but you put your hands on his body, lengthen the kiss, hum against his lips.

“Hmm. It was good. Better now, though.” You hit the keys necessary to lock your desktop and stand, stretch to wrap your arms around his neck. “How was yours?”

“Not bad.” He says it casually, but you can see the stress in the lines around his eyes, his mouth, and you raise a brow in question. “The unit’s being audited. A percentage of our consultations need to be reviewed, updated psychological evaluations completed—on top of everything else, it’s a lot,” he admits with a sigh, and you nod your understanding, brush your fingers through his hair.

“I’ll call Elena and cancel dinner.” You’d planned weeks ago to go out with one of your friends for Indian food, to meet her new boyfriend, but Aaron is clearly having a rough week and it’s only Wednesday. A quiet night in may be just what he needs. “We’ll stay home, I’ll order takeout. We can relax.”

“No, no. I know you’ve been looking forward to this; it’s really alright.” You tilt your head, something of a frown, and he takes your face in his hands, kisses you twice on the mouth. “It’s alright. I want to go out. I want to take you out,” he says, voice low, pulling you in for a slower kiss, and you melt against him, slide your arms around his back instead, pull him closer.

“I want to keep you in,” you murmur when the kiss breaks, and he raises the corner of his mouth in a sexy smile, presses his lips to your nose.

“And miss meeting the one?” You both laugh lightly, because Elena finds the one every couple of months, but she’s a hopeless romantic, always means it at first. It’s endearing, especially when you and Aaron feel a little like an old married couple. “Let’s go out, have a good time. If we stay home, I’ll be tempted to work.” He takes a step back, lets you head out the door and down the hall to your bedroom, so you can get changed; he follows behind, sits down on the bed while you go through your closet.

“I’m sure I could find ways to tempt you not to work,” you say, pushing dresses down the rack until you find one you like: it’s an emerald green mid-length dress, with cap sleeves and a slit up the front, not too formal and not too sexy, perfect for the restaurant where you will be eating.

You pull your t-shirt over your head, bend to slide your leggings off, and Aaron makes a soft noise in the back of his throat.

“Consider me tempted.” You turn around, roll your eyes playfully, and put on the dress, sit down next to him to slip your feet into a pair of nude sandals; you lean in for a kiss, palm pressed to his chest, and it quickly becomes something deep, passionate. Aaron brings a hand to rest against your throat, and you have half a mind to take the dress back off and cancel those plans after all, but you know he wouldn’t let you do that anyway.

You pull back, bite your lip, and give him a very pointed once-over, then stand to finish getting ready. You can feel his eyes on you the entire time. “I’m just saying, he should be on the side of a tub of protein powder or something,” Aaron says later as he unlocks the front door, letting you step in before him. “His arms are bigger than his head.”

“He’s a personal trainer, baby. It’s his job to work out and look buff—he’s like a walking billboard for his business.” You slip your shoes off, hook the straps around your finger, and stroll toward the bedroom. “Elena really seemed to like him.”

“I give them three months.” He’s just a few feet behind you when you turn to shoot him a slightly admonishing look, even if he is probably right. “She seemed more focused on his twelve pack than anything else.”

You toss your phone onto the bed, remove your dress with a soft laugh. “Their relationship is still new; it’s all about the physical. You remember when we were like that, don’t you?” You aren’t exactly surprised when he comes up behind you and glides his hand across your bare stomach, when he brushes your hair away from your neck and kisses you there.

“We were never like that. It was never just physical for me,” he breathes into your ear, and you close your eyes, sink back against him, tilt your neck for more kisses. “I loved you before I loved you. I always just knew.”

“Fuck, Aaron,” you sigh, and you lay your arm along the one on your stomach, reach back with the other to press him closer to you. You lick your lips, turn your head so your face is near his, and he leans in to kiss you and slides his hand into your panties, rubs his fingers over your pussy.

You’re already a little wet from his hands on you, his mouth, but as always, he turns you on effortlessly; your face heats, your heart races, your breath quickens. Your pussy becomes almost unbearably slick, your moans against his lips gentle and pleading, and he removes his hand and slides your underwear down, guides you onto the bed.

You watch, panting, as he removes his tie, then takes off his belt, his pants; you can’t go without touching him for long, and you move to sit up so you can reach for him, pull him closer. You work at the buttons of his shirt from the bottom while he starts at the top, and you take it off together, then slip your hands into his boxers and push them down.

You immediately want to take him into your mouth, thick and hard as he is, and you slide your hands up his stomach, beneath his undershirt, in anticipation of that; you don’t get very far before he lays you back on the bed again, on your side this time. His forcefulness makes you ache to have him inside you, and he crowds in behind you, slides an arm beneath you and wraps his hand around you, over your breast, holding you tightly. You tip your head back, whimper, because he’s going to be so good to you as always and the waiting is almost too much to bear.

“You know I’ve got you,” he whispers, squeezing you, and you nod in response; he lifts your leg and hooks it back over his thigh, then pushes inside you, sinks fully into your wet heat. You exhale, a sigh of pleasure, and he mouths at your jaw, nibbles at your ear while he thrusts slowly but completely. “Hmm. This may not be new, but you’re always perfect for me. Doesn’t that feel so good?”

“So good, so good.” It’s difficult for you to really move in this position, though you rock your hips almost involuntarily into his thrusts, but he takes care of you, nips at the back of your neck, pounds inside you, brings you so close so quickly you almost forget to breathe. Your hands are on him anywhere you can reach, desperate for contact. “Aaron, mmm, god.”

“I know, baby.”

He puts his free hand behind your knee, bends your leg, folds it up by your chest so he can pump his cock faster, harder, and you feel surrounded by him—his hands on your body, his hot grunts of effort in your ear, the faint smell of cologne that lingers after a long day familiar to your nose. You're a little overwhelmed by it all, but pleasantly so, and when he comes you come, clenching tightly around him as he spills deep.

“Perfect,” he whispers tensely, nuzzling against your throat, and he slides out, brings your leg down, runs his hands tenderly over your body like you’re something delicate. “I love you.” You turn your head toward him, say it back, and he presses his palm to your cheek, treats you to a deep, wet kiss, then brushes his thumb over your lips. “Every time I kiss you, it feels like the first time.”

“For me too,” you say with a tired smile, running your fingers through his hair, and he kisses you again before patting your hip and telling you to go get cleaned up, that he’ll take care of the bedding. When you come back, he’s in his boxers and t-shirt, legs tucked under a fresh comforter, and you slide in next to him and curl up beneath his arm. It’s a couple weeks later when you decide to bring Aaron lunch at the office; things seem much calmer lately, but the team’s cases have been back to back, and he’s been out of town a lot. You have to take the opportunity when you can, and that means showing up with a bag of Mexican food and a smile and hoping he’s not too busy to eat with you.

You get checked into the building and head for the BAU bullpen, stopping to chat with the team for a few minutes. You loosely plan for dinner or drinks in the future, make a promise to pop in and see Penelope before you leave, and then head up to Aaron’s office, knock lightly on the doorframe.

“Hungry, handsome?” Aaron looks up from his stack of paperwork with a smile, then slowly runs his eyes over you—you’re wearing a sweater, jeans, boots, nothing revealing in the slightest, but he makes you feel very warm and very naked nonetheless.

“Yes. For lunch, too,” he says, and you roll your eyes, a little bashful, and enter his office, setting down the bag of food you brought after he clears space on the desk. He stands, pulls you close for a hug and kiss, and then you unpack lunch, spread containers out over the desk. “Burritos? Are you trying to beef me up?” he asks, and you look up at him, lift your brow.

“Were you expecting salads? I’m feeding a super special FBI agent here, you need your strength.”

“We’ve only been living together for five months and it’s already getting hard to button my pants,” he grumbles, but he peels back the foil on the one labeled pollo asado without further complaint, takes the hot sauce when you hand it to him.

“So we’ll go up a size. It’s a good thing you’re not living off of coffee and vending machine protein bars anymore. You’ve been needing someone to feed you up for a while—and besides, I don’t mind if your pants are unbuttoned,” you say, licking sauce off of your thumb. “Nothing hotter than a well-fed Fed.” He rolls his eyes, and you sit down to eat.

When the hour is up, you pack up the leftovers, give him a longer, slower kiss goodbye, and pat his stomach, which makes him groan. “Any harder and the button might pop,” he jokes, and you laugh, shake your head.

“Don’t be dramatic. I love this tummy. Might even grab onto it later, you know?” You slowly wet your lips, then smile, and take a step back, take the paper bag and head out the door. “See you tonight, love you.”

“Devil woman,” he calls after you, and you grin the whole way to Penelope’s office.

“Light in the darkness,” she says when she opens the door to find you on the other side. “How did god know I needed to see an angel today?”

“Oh, I don’t know about all that, but I have some extra chips and guac from lunch if you need a pick me up.” She eagerly accepts your offering, and you take a seat next to her, dip a couple of chips half-heartedly, still full from your burrito. “So how have you been? Busy supporting the cutest group of crime fighters since Scooby Doo?” She laughs, nods her head.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the extent of it. When it rains creepy crimes, it pours, apparently. I think we’re all in desperate need of a vacation at this point—and a puppy.” She hits a few keys, pulls up a screensaver that is just a compilation of fluffy puppy photos, and you both sigh.

“Aw, a puppy would be nice. I don’t even dream about vacations anymore; I’ve come to terms with the fact that Aaron will never be the vacationing type.”

“Not even the honeymoon type?” she asks, looking at you over her glasses, and you crunch on a chip, shake your head.

“I doubt it, and we’re not there yet, anyway. I’d consider myself lucky if he took more than two days off in a row.”

“He’s always been like that—working himself too hard,” she says sadly, as if to let you know it has nothing to do with you. You know that, but can’t deny it would be nice to have more than the weekend with him. “As long as I’ve known him, at least.”

“And I get it: what you guys do is important, and I wouldn’t want him to change himself for me. I guess we all just have our things.” You smile, and she does too, reaches out to pat you on the arm.

“Could be worse, honey. Could always be worse.” She hits a few keys on the keyboard again, and up pops a man’s mugshot. “This guy’s girlfriend had to find out he’s been killing women and chopping them up in an industrial food processor.”

You’re glad you already had lunch, because the imagery is enough to make you lose your appetite for several hours.

Your stomach eventually comes around, and you and Aaron have a quiet dinner—chicken, potatoes, and “a salad, since you’re watching your figure now” you tease—and then you ask if he’d be okay with calling it a night a little early. He agrees, and you take him to bed and undress, then slowly pull off all his clothes, running your hands over his body as you go.

“So big and strong,” you murmur as you brush your palms over his shoulders, press your lips to his bare chest. “Unbearably sexy.”

“Used to be stronger,” he sighs as you trail your mouth lower, sink to your knees, smooth your hands down his thighs.

“I used to be perkier; still want me, don’t you?” You look up at him, wink, and he reaches down to cup your cheek with a big hand; you nuzzle into it, happy, content, just like always.

“I’ll always want you.”

“Good. And I’ll always want you.” Just in case the words aren’t enough, you bring your hands to his stomach, massage it a little, run your tongue slowly over the length of his cock. “Mmm. Lay down for me?”

He does, and you climb on top of him, lean in to kiss him slowly, deeply, skimming neatly trimmed nails over his chest. You kiss along his throat, down to his stomach, and then wrap a hand around the base of his dick and put your mouth on him, the other hand pressed lightly against his stomach while you suck him off.

Your pace is easy, your hand moving in time with your tight lips and hollow cheeks, and you squeeze his tummy, moan your pleasure, and flick your eyes up to his face. His lips are soft around a sigh, but his brows are tensely knit, and he brings a hand to your chin, caresses you lightly when he floods your mouth, when you swallow for him and lick him clean.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, and you crawl up his body, kiss his cheeks and his lips and then whimper when he presses your back against the bed.

His fingers find you soft and wet and open, and he pushes two of them inside, leans over you to mouth wetly at your throat, your breasts. You weave your fingers into his hair, grip his shoulder, moan his name, and he makes you come quickly, expertly, in that practice makes perfect kind of way. He kisses your lips as you sigh, sink against the bed, then rubs his hand over your chest and hums.

“Perky,” he says in your ear, and then you both laugh, and you pull him down on top of you for a quick cuddle before going to the bathroom to get ready for bed. A couple of Fridays later, it’s your turn to host girls night, so you’re in the kitchen putting together a charcuterie board and mixing up cocktails when Aaron walks in, looking casual and cuddly in jeans and a quarter-zip fleece sweatshirt. You know he plans to set up camp in his office, but you kind of wish he wouldn’t just so you’d get to look at him some more.

“Gorgeous man,” you say, peering up at him as you wrap your arm around his waist. “Can I interest you in a paloma?” You lift up a pink cocktail and he laughs lightly, guides your hand back toward the counter.

“You can’t, but I will take a beer for the road.” You shrug your shoulders, let him go so he can walk over to the fridge; you take a sip of the drink you offered him, wince a little—it’s a bit strong for a girls night in, but it won’t kill anyone—and Aaron caches the expression, holds back a smile. “Are you going to end up drunk tonight? Should I prepare for the worst?”

“Ha ha. I don’t plan on it, but if I do, just throw me over your shoulder and put me to bed.”

“It’s cute that you think that works,” he says, bending to kiss you on the cheek, and then the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it, baby. Keep… rearranging your cheese.” He smiles, you smile back, a little exasperated, and he goes to answer the door.

A short time later, you and your friends are gathered in the living room, sprawled across the sectional sofa with drinks and snacks. You’re maybe a little tipsy, and when the topic turns to Elena’s now ex-boyfriend, the personal trainer, you’re just uninhibited enough to weigh in.

“I don’t know what you saw in him anyway. He spent so much time in front of the mirror, I would have been insecure that he was going to leave me for himself.” Your friend Jada laughs, and you preen, take another sip of your drink.

“She just misses his dick; the new guy isn’t working with much. What’s his name? Chester? Charlie?”

“Clifford,” Elena says, pulling out her phone, “and no, he’s not working with much, but he’s really cute. Look at him.” She shows you a photo from her camera roll, and Clifford looks just like the personal trainer, but with brown hair instead of blond.

“Not my type,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand, “but clearly he’s yours, so congrats, really. You can work around the small dick thing.”

“What is your type?” your other friend Michelle asks. “I’ve never been able to pin it down.” You open your mouth to answer but frown after a moment.

“I’ve never really had one, I guess. I know what I don’t find attractive, but what I do find attractive?” You think on it for a minute, and all you can imagine is what you already have. You can’t help smiling wide. “I mean, if I had to say, I guess just Aaron.” Your friends chime in with a chorus of aww, and you shush them. “I just think he’s perfect, you know? He’s smart and sweet and secretly funny; tall, and strong, but not in a ‘spends all day at the gym’ way—no offense. He’s a little softer, I can wrap myself up in his arms. It’s nice.”

“I’m with you,” Jada says. “A hard body might be nice to look at, but I need something to grab onto in the middle of the night.”

“Yes! Something to grab onto, and Aaron is perfect for that. He’s such a good cuddler, and he’s heavy, in a sexy way, like when he’s on top of me.” Okay, so you’re definitely a little drunk, never this loose-lipped about your sex life, but it’s all true regardless. “And he’s nice to look at—so nice to look at. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

You could go on talking about Aaron for the rest of the night, but topics change and you have enough sense not to ramble any further; you don’t have the sense to stop drinking, though, so by the time your friends leave, you’re puttering around trying to clean up the kitchen, and not doing a very good job of it. Aaron finds you, makes a soft sound and puts his arms around you from behind, effectively stilling your motions.

“Let’s go to bed, baby,” he murmurs into your hair, and you sink back against his body, sigh happily.

“I want to go to bed—I want to go to bed with you. I always want to go to bed with you, because I love you.”

“I know, sweetheart, I love you, and we’re going to go to bed right now. We can clean up tomorrow.” You let him lead you down the hall, but you only make it halfway to the bedroom before you turn around in his arms, try to pull him down to your level. He’s so tall it can sometimes be annoying.

“I love you. I want you, always. You’re my type.” He laughs, bends to kiss you softly and tries to walk you backward toward the bedroom.

“Thank you. You’re my type, too, and I want you always.” You nod, because that’s good. You should be his type, since he loves you. That just makes sense.

“I want a puppy—a fluffy baby puppy with you. I’ll be the puppy mom and you’ll be the puppy dad.”

“A puppy,” he repeats, and you make it to the bedroom: you can tell because he sits you gently on the bed, helps get you out of your jeans. “We could get a puppy, if that’s something you want. I can walk it in the mornings before work, you can walk it on your lunch.”

You make a happy sound, because you hadn’t expected him to say that. You figure asking for one more thing can’t hurt, while you’re on a roll.

“I want a vacation, too, please. A beach vacation—I want to see you in swim trunks, your hair all wet, and I want to feel your skin warm from the sun.” He pulls your top over your head and walks away from you; when you make a sound of protest, he assures you he’ll be right back, and he returns with one of his t-shirts, helps you put it on.

“You want a beach vacation?” He turns down the bed, maneuvers you under the covers, then starts undressing himself. “What brought that on?”

“I don’t know. Just want to go away with you,” you say, and you can feel yourself drifting now that you’re cozy in bed, wearing Aaron’s clothes, soft pillows all around you. “A vacation, or a—a honeymoon.”

Aaron says something in response to that, but you can’t make it out, too busy falling asleep and imagining the scent of sunscreen and the feel of thick fingers rubbing it into your shoulders. You wake with a bit of a headache, and a dry mouth, and a warm body at your back, an arm loosely slung around your waist. You groan and press back against Aaron, and he leans forward to brush his lips over your ear and chuckle lightly against it.

“I think you went a little overboard,” he says, and he smooths your unruly bedhead back away from your face. “There’s water and ibuprofen on the nightstand. If you’re feeling up to it, I think a shower would do you some good. I’ll make breakfast.” He presses several soft kisses to your cheek and chin, and you close your eyes, hum your contentment.

“I love you, do you know that?”

“I do know that,” he breathes, and he runs his hand over your hip in a way that makes you wish you had more energy and less aching in your temples. “You said it a lot last night—I also couldn’t help overhearing you say I’m the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.”

“Well that’s true. Incredibly handsome,” you agree tiredly, and he presses his lips to your neck in the form of soft, smacking kisses.

“You also said you wanted a honeymoon,” he murmurs, and you open your eyes comically wide, slide up to a seat, look down at his face to try to read his expression.

“I did?” He nods, clearly trying not to smile at your surprise.

“Yes, you did. I’m not clear on the details, though—would that include a wedding, or were you planning on skipping over that part?” You lean over him, hide your face against his shoulder, and he laughs softly, rubs his hand up and down your back. “We’ve never talked about it, but it seems that’s something I should have at least brought up. We just took our time moving in together, and I didn’t want to rush that if you weren’t ready. Are you ready?” he asks quietly, and you pull back to look at him—his open expression, soft features, curious eyes.

“In theory, or in practice?” You have to ask, because this is Aaron, and he’s amazing, but he’s not a grand gestures type of man—if he’s asking you to marry him, you want to be very clearly on the same page to avoid miscommunication. He smiles, runs his hand down your arm.

“In theory.” You think of what it would mean, how it would feel, being married to the best man you’ve ever met, the kindest, most open-hearted (if occasionally grumpy) person, and the answer comes easily.

“Yes, I’m ready in theory.” His smile grows, and you match it, leaning down for a kiss. Then, he moves out from under you, reaches behind himself, into his nightstand, and rummages around for a moment before returning with a blue velvet box that he just holds, so casually, in his hand.

“How about in practice?” Your heart sinks to your stomach in the best way, and you can’t find the words even though you know exactly what you want to say. You bite your lip, and your eyes water a little; Aaron presses his palm to your cheek, and you meet in the middle for a slow, sweet kiss, exhaling softly when you pull apart.

You nod your head.

“Yes, I’m ready in practice.” You kiss again, a bit less sweet, weaving your fingers into his hair, and he pulls you down, makes you laugh, covers you with his body and kisses your face until you’re both out of breath.

“That’s good, because I want to make an honest woman out of you if we’re going to have a baby.” You freeze beneath him—did you talk about children last night, too, in your drunken haze?—and he chuckles, leans back so you can better see his face. “A fluffy baby puppy, remember? I’ll be the puppy dad and you’ll be the puppy mom.” You smack his chest, which he finds hilarious, and then you put your hands on his arms and sigh.

“Let me see that ring, please.” He props himself up on his elbows, opens the box for you: it’s sparkling, beautiful, exactly what you would have chosen for yourself, and you pluck it out, hold it up, and then hand it back so he can slide it onto your finger. “How long has this been in that drawer?”

“Since you moved in,” he says, and he takes your hand, kisses it, and admires your new accessory. “It was in my sock drawer before that, and I’m honestly not sure how long it was there. Two years, at least.” You frown just so you won’t cry, and he leans in to press his lips to the downturned curve of yours. “I told you, I always just knew.”

You deepen the kiss, run your hands over his sides beneath the soft t-shirt he slept in; his fingers move to the hem of the t-shirt you slept in as if to remove it, and you pause, pull back.

“No, wait, I’m gross. How are you even kissing me right now?” Aaron rolls his eyes, presses his mouth to yours repeatedly despite your half-hearted protests.

“Because I don’t care about morning breath, I’m marrying you.” He puts his hands in your hair, continues kissing, and you know resistance is futile; he wants you regardless, just as you are, and you would feel the same if roles were reversed—you do, every day.

“Mmh, okay but. At least let me. Shower first,” you mumble against his lips, and he rolls his eyes, leans back so he’s on his knees hovering over you, hands on his thighs.

“Would that make you feel better?” You nod happily, and he climbs off the bed, pulls you to your feet. “In that case, you go shower, and I’ll make breakfast as planned. And then, if your conditions are met, princess,” you wrinkle your nose, and then you both laugh, “I think I would like to make love to my fiancée, if that’s something that would interest you.”

“I’m very interested in that,” you agree, winding your arms around his neck, and you allow him one more kiss before you shuffle toward the shower, standing under the spray long enough to feel fully human again.

You drink the water, take the ibuprofen, and throw on his quarter-zip sweatshirt from the night before, and then meet him for eggs, toast, fruit, and kisses. He’s cleaned up the mess from last night, brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and you fall a little bit in love all over again.

After breakfast, you make it as far as the couch, flat on your back with the sweatshirt hiked up around your stomach and Aaron’s head between your thighs; you moan, tug on his hair as he drags his tongue repeatedly through the wetness that clings to your pussy, and when he makes you come you close your legs around his shoulders, squeezing tightly, back arching off of the couch.

“Mmm. Should have locked you down a lot sooner,” you pant, encouraging him to climb on top of you. He licks his lips and leans in for a warm, soft kiss.

“I’ve been locked down since our first date. You wore a blue dress and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” You pull his shirt over his head, and he pushes his boxers off, guides his cock inside you and plants his hands, noses along your cheek. “And now you’re mine.”

You can’t remember the last time you had sex in broad daylight—or the living room, for that matter—so each roll of his body, heavy and smooth against yours, is that much hotter as the sun shines in through the window, as birds chirp from the tree just outside. Your moans feel louder, more indecent, and you hold onto his ass, run a hand up his back, while he groans in your ear, whispers things like fuck and baby and mine.

“Aaron, please,” you sigh, digging your fingertips into his hips, and he kisses you, thrusts harder, knows what you need without having to hear it. He’s getting close too, huffs hot breath against your cheek, and you squeeze him tighter, press up against him. “Yes, hmm. I’ve got you, baby.” You move a hand to his hair, carding fingers through it, and he rests one gently over your throat, kisses you deep and wet, passionate, pounds against you until he comes.

He slides his hand down your body, rubs his fingertips over your clit, and this time your orgasm is softer, and you bite at his shoulder just to feel more connected, even though he is still inside you, heavy above you. You cling to him, catch your breath, and then you kiss a little before hurrying to get cleaned up and hoping you don’t make a mess of the couch.

When you reconvene in the living room, windows open, curtains blowing softly in the breeze, Aaron is on the couch with his laptop on his thighs. You plop down next to him, peer over his shoulder, and he raises his eyebrow and smiles.

“What do you think of Golden Retrievers?” You rest your head against him, look at the screen full of fuzzy yellow puppies, and sigh, content.

Taglist 🤍: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream @unicornprancing @uchihasteph @mugi-chwan95 @madamsnape921 @hxtchncr

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #prompt #dad bod hotch

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

One Night🌙10

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, angry Andy, hormones

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Another update? Who is this bitch actually trying?

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The bus chugged down the city streets as you sat closer to the back. You stared out the window and watched the grey sky of Nelson hanging overhead, a cloudy backdrop to the smoking city.

You sighed every now and then, trying to forget the beeping and when it stopped. You still felt Andy’s hand on your back and the suffocating silence of the drive home. The burden of the dead woman on your shoulders.

It was as if it had been years since you saw the slightly crooked pole that held the bright sign. The bus stop was as desolate as ever, the dirty bench marked with spray paint and the shelter glass cracked. You set off around the corner past the house. Each was familiar but not comforting.

Your hips hurt from the stiff ride and you rubbed your stomach. You wore one of Andy’s hoodies under your open jacket, the zipper of the latter no longer meeting. You stopped in front of your parents’ house. You hadn’t asked permission; not from your mother, your father, or Andy. There was no courtesy phone call so you hesitated, afraid you might be sent away.

It was noon. Your father would be in the garage. He always had some project going. That was his work. He was cheaper than any other mechanic in the city, he just did it all from home. He could recycle parts from the junkyard and charge half price. They usually did better than the newer parts sent away for down at the Jiffy.

You walked up the driveway, the garage door was only halfway open, the bite of the late autumn, rather the early winter, mingled with the warmth flowing under the metal. You tapped on it with your knuckles, “dad?” you called.

You stepped back as his oily hands gripped the bottom and he hauled it up entirely. He tilted his head at you but couldn’t hide his smile. He looked at your stomach and you dropped your hand. He drew you to him before you could react. He hugged you tight and rocked you.

“Your mother’s gonna be mad you didn’t call before you came,” he let go of you and looked you over again.

“Mad that I’m even here,” you remarked.

“No, she might act like it but…” he waved you into the garage and rolled over the little stool he sat on when he was working. He helped you sit and put his wrench on the plywood table against the wall, “she missed you. We both did.” he wiped his hands on his jeans, “you could have called us. You know how she is. She feels before she thinks.”

“She kicked me out,” you felt precarious on the little rolling stool, “you let her.”

“So why’d you come back?” he asked.

You hung your head and hugged your stomach, “well, I’m having your granddaughter. I didn’t want you to find out from anyone but me.”

“It’s a girl?” he grinned.

“Sorry, wish I could give you a boy to get all filthy in this place,” you shrugged.

“You never minded getting your hands dirty,” he neared and grasped your shoulder.

“Yeah, guess it doesn’t matter too much, she’ll be as curious as any kid,” you said.

You were quiet as you looked around. Your dad’s rolling chest of tools was dented and rusted, the same one he’d had your whole life. The place hadn’t changed, only the car sitting in it.

“That’s not the only reason you’re here,” he said. Your father was a simple man but he wasn’t dumb.

You frowned and felt a prick in your eyes. The hormones, you told yourself, they were getting to you.

“I need you guys,” you said quietly, “is that so bad?”

“I missed you, you’re mom did too, she’s just stubborn. Think that’s where you get it,” he turned his hand over and held it out to you, “but she won’t turn you away.”

“You sure?”

“I won’t let her. Not this time,” he bent and took your hand, “now come on.”

You let him help you to your feet and he led you through the side door into the house. You heard your mother’s old Patsy Cline CD droning from the box speakers on the shelf as she muttered to herself.

Your dad kicked the dirty off his boots and you slipped your own off. You followed him and peeked over his shoulder as he went to the living room. Your mother was wiping down the framed picture from your high school graduation.

“I got a surprise for you,” he announced as he stepped aside and beckoned you in alongside him, “and she’s got a surprise for you.”

Your mother turned and froze. Her lips formed a straight line and her eyes pierced you. She didn’t say anything as he stared at you then tossed the dusting cloth onto the table beside the lamp. She looked down at your feet.

“You remembered to take your shoes off,” she said.

Your lips parted and your chest gripped. She was still mad.

“You remembered us,” she swept over to you so quickly, you flinched. She hugged you and her middle met yours. She let go and looked down at your stomach. Her eyes were sad but not angry, “I’m…” she lifted her head and met your gaze, “I’m not good at saying it but I’m sorry.”

You watched her for a minute. She was still her mother as nasty as she’d been. You could see her regret and it coupled with your own. It didn’t fix everything but for her, it was a lot.

“I’m sorry too,” you breathed, “it was… me being stupid started all of this. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“You gotta tell her,” your dad intoned.

You glanced at him then back to your mom. You gulped, “we found out yesterday, it’s a girl.”

“We? And where is… he?” your mother bristled.

“Working,” you said.

“We went to the diner, they said you quit. The café too,” your mom batted away lashes, “please, sit.” She touched your stomach, “you’re so big.”

“Five months, I think,” you said as you let her take you to the old floral sofa, “and the doctor recommended I take it easy so I had to… leave.”

“Oh? Is something wrong with the baby?” she picked up her cloth again and resumed her dusting. Your father quietly excused himself.

“No, just me,” you leaned against the arm, “but they said my blood pressure is getting better, just have to check it now and again.”

“And that man? The least I can say is at least he’s taking responsibility, even if he is married,” your mom hung the picture back on the nail.

“It was a mistake,” you said, “but you know, I think it’s taught me a lot. Not that it was worth it.”

“I don’t mean to rag on you, but… it’s just not how it should be,” she went to the television stand and focused on the edges.

“You think I don’t know that. Mom, I didn’t come here to argue my morality. I came here…” you paused as you felt your phone buzz. You slid it from your jacket pocket and checked the ID; Andy. You ignored it and dropped it back inside, “I just wanted to see if you had any interest in your granddaughter.”

She spun back and her face wrinkled with sadness. She twisted the cloth and retreated to the rocking chair and sat. She chewed her lip and looked at the floor. When she looked at you again, her brows crinkled.

“I’m trying,” she said, “but what you did, I don’t know if I can’t get over that. That man, everyone knows him, and when it comes out, with his wife still in a coma, you don’t think about what that does to us.”

“Well,” your throat constricted and you held back the hot tears bubbling behind your eyes, “she’s not anymore.”

“What?”

“She… she passed last night,” you sniffed, “and I’ll admit that I came here as much for me as you. I just needed… needed to get away. Just for a little.”

Your phone went off again and you grunted as you pulled it out and swiped away the second call from Andy. You kept the phone in your hand and rested it against your thigh.

“I just need time,” your mom leaned back heavily.

“Well, it’s quickly running out,” you replied, “she’s gonna be here soon enough.”

“I know,” she said grimly, “I know.”

There was another silence and your phone twitched. You turned it over and checked the message on the screen; ‘why don’t you invite your parents for dinner if you’re not gonna answer me?’ You let the phone slip between your legs and slowly raised your eyes. How did he know?

“I can go, if it’s too much,” you said, “I didn’t expect to get past the front door, honestly.”

“It’s not-- you’re still my daughter,” she uttered, “and even if it’s not the best situation, you got my granddaughter too.”

Your phone began to shake between your legs and you huffed, “sorry,” you stood with effort as you snatched the phone up, “just a second.”

You went into the dining room and answered. You hissed into the phone, “what do you want, Andy?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going there?” he asked sharply.

“How do you even know? You following me?” you kept your voice low.

“I know, that’s all,” he retorted, “it is… surprising.”

“They’re my parents,” you scowled at the tabletop as you leaned on a chair.

“Mine, too, right? Considering--”

“Andy,” you warned, “come on. Let’s cut this out--”

“Invite them for dinner. You’re right. Our kid will need her grandparents,” he interrupted, “I’ll get off early and help.”

“I don’t think--”

“Invite them,” he demanded, “and don’t take the bus back. I’ll send you the money for a cab.”

“Jesus, I can take care of myself--”

“No, you can’t, which is why you’re sleeping under my roof. And this isn’t about you, it’s about the baby,” he exhaled and you heard a squeak of metal, likely a chair, “Now I want you home by two. I’ll be there shortly after.”

He hung up before you could argue. You closed your eyes and forced down the angry bile in your chest. You shuttered and tucked the phone back in your jacket. How did he know you were there?

🌙

Your parents agreed to dinner. Your mother wasn’t subtle that she was curious to see Andy’s house. Her judgement was always her driving motivation and you were certain she could find something to hate, even in the suburban utopia.

You took the bus out of defiance and brewed with anger as you got off just outside the cul-de-sac. You walked the single block to Andy’s and paced like an angry lioness inside.

He arrived at three, just after. Your anxiety boiled with anger and you stopped to face him as he entered. You watched him put down his briefcase and hang his long black coat. Your nostrils flared as you braced yourself for the onslaught ready to spill forth.

“So, you weren’t following me?” you challenged.

“I was working,” he said quietly, “to pay for all of this…” he pointed to the ceiling, “and that,” he pointed to your bump.

“No, Andy, you don’t get to do that every time,” you snarled, “how did you know?”

He didn’t answer and brushed by you. You followed him into the kitchen as he went to the coffee machine and pressed the buttons bluntly. You watched him from a foot away, your hand on the cold marble.

“You can’t just ignore me. How did you know I was there?”

“Because…” he grabbed a mug and filled it with water. He poured it into the machine and snapped the lid shut, “because you have my baby and I have a right to make sure you don’t take it from me.”

“That’s not an answer,” you sneered, “Andy, I have done everything you’ve wanted. I have stayed here, I have quit my jobs, I have kept this baby for you, and you… you’re what? Tracking me like a dog?” You reached into your back pocket and slammed your phone on the counter. You slid it over to him, “when did you do it?”

His jaw ticked as he put a pod into the machine and hit start. He tapped his fingers on the counter and let out a long breath through his nose. He turned to you and crossed his arms.

“After you stayed out that night. I couldn’t worry like that again. I had to know,” he said staunchly, “because I’ve had a wife go out and not come back. A child--”

“I’m not your wife and I won’t ever be. This child is all we have in common,” you rebuffed, “even after last night. What you did, that doesn’t change things.”

You nearly tripped as he marched towards you. He had you against the far wall, his hand planted on either side of your head as his anger rippled across his forehead and set his jaw square. You pressed yourself against the pure white wall and tried not to wither.

“I did that for you,” he breathed, “I’ve done everything for you. Don’t act like you’re the only one doing shit.”

“Andy, get away--”

“No,” he punched the wall and you gasped, “my wife is gone. Jacob is gone! This is all I have; you, my daughter…that’s everything and I will be damned if I’m going to let you take any of it away from me.”

“You’re scaring me,” you wisped, “Andy, please--”

“No, you shut up and you listen. This is the last time we have this conversation. Your parents are coming and you’re going to be good. You’re going to wear something nice, you’re going to cook something good, and you’re going to smile. You don’t let them see you crack, not once.”

“You can’t--”

“Enough!” he hit the wall again and you heard it crumple under the force, “if you don’t, they won’t be around. Ever. Do you understand me?” you gaped up at him and trembled, you shook your head in disbelief. He leaned in and spoke softly to you, “Understand that I will make sure you and no one else ever sees them again.”

“You… wouldn’t…”

“I could. I will. You’re fucking bitch of a mom deserves it,” he hissed, “so, honey,” he growled the second word, “what’s it gonna be?”

Your lip quivered and you searched his face. The rage had his blue eyes alight and his breath rasped out like animalistic snarls. You thought of Laurie, of how blank he’d been when they stopped the machines. And that smile, after. What was that?

“I’ll… be good,” you murmured, “I will.”

His lips twitched and he shoved himself away from you. He stomped over to the fridge and took out the light cream. He added it to his mug of fresh coffee and stirred. You stood straight shakily and looked up at the hole beside your head.

“Well,” he said, “better figure out what you’re making for dinner. Our guests won’t be long.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #series #one night #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

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