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babyfoxflower · 1 month ago

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The Hunter and the Hunted

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

*Disclaimer: This story is an AU and does not follow Hellaverse canon. Alastor is pretty much just a hetero, if this offends you in anyway, then I suggest you block me and go on your way.*

Synopsis: This the story of Alastor and the love of his life, his huntress, the charming Y/n Rosier. A rare beauty out on the bayou, his heart is instantly stolen by her. He’ll do anything for his beloved, even if that includes murder.

Story Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Violence, Blood, Hunting, Murder, Mentions of Child Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, 1920s Attitudes Towards Women

Chapter Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Mentions of Child Abuse, Alastor drugs his mom so he and Y/n can fool around, Mentions of Masturbation, Reader has small tits but Al loves them, Dry Humping

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“Lunch is ready, dears!” Mrs. Hartfelt called from the kitchen, “Alastor, love, come help me set up the dining table!”

“Coming, Mother!” He replied, “I’ll be right back,” he told Y/n.

“I can help too.”

“Please, you’re our guest. All you have to do is relax,” he gave her a lighthearted smile.

“Oh, alright,” she returned the smile.

“I’ll come get you when the table is ready,” he lightly kissed her hand before leaving to help his mother.

Y/n fidgeted her fingers.

I’m not used to relaxing. I’m usually the one cooking and setting up the table. This is strange. Wait, do I actually like doing the house work? Or is it just that I’m so used to it that I can’t even fathom not doing it?

Alastor entered the kitchen, “Smells delicious.”

“I didn’t have time to buy shrimp, so I used that one recipe that calls for venison instead. You think she’ll like it?”

“I’m sure, she’ll love it. Nobody cooks better than you, Momma,” he gave her a reassuring smile.

“Hm, why are you being so sweet all of a sudden? You two necking in there or something?”

“Haha. I’m just in a good mood. I’m having lunch with my two favorite people.”

His mother raised an eyebrow, “Okay, lover boy, go set the plates and utensils on the table.”

———————————————————————

As soon as Y/n took that first bite of Mrs. Hartfelt’s jambalaya, she didn’t want to stop.

“Oh my! This is the best jambalaya I’ve ever had,” Y/n exclaimed.

Mrs. Hartfelt seemed relieved, “I’m glad you like it, I was worried you wouldn’t since it’s not a traditional jambalaya recipe.”

“No, I love venison. I never would have thought to put in jambalaya but it’s delicious!”

Alastor had the biggest grin on his face, “We’re big on venison in this house.”

“Would you like the recipe?” Mrs. Hartfelt asked Y/n.

“Oh, yes please. My little sisters would love this,” Y/n replied.

“I’ll write up a copy for you to take home, dear.”

“Thank you so much, Claudine!”

“Don’t even mention it. Tell me what are your little sisters like? I adore children.”

“They can be a handful at times, but they’re good girls.”

“You should see them, Mother, they’re very cute and so polite. They’re definitely being raised right,” Alastor chimed in before smiling at Y/n.

“They must be, if they won you over,” Mrs. Hartfelt said to Alastor, “Alastor usually isn’t fond of kids, even when he was one. How old are they?”

“Annalise, the oldest, is ten. She’s an intelligent one, always gets good marks in school. Then there’s Marie, who’s seven. She can be real trouble maker. And then there’s Louise, who’s five. She daydreams a lot and I often wonder what’s going on in her little mind.”

“You speak of them as if they’re your own,” Mrs. Hartfelt smiled.

“They might as well be,” Y/n gave a small smile.

———————————————————————

Y/n looked outside of the window; the storm that had started during lunch gave no indication of slowing down any time soon.

I wonder if my sisters are alright. Hopefully they made it home before the storm.

Alastor stood next to her, “Would you look at that, there’s no way you can walk home in this weather.”

“It’s fine, I can make it home. I have to,” she replied.

He was about to protest when his mother chimed in.

“Nonesense! You’ll catch your death out there! You’ll just have to stay here until the storm passes.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I need to get home and start making dinner for my family,” Y/n turned to Mrs. Hartfelt.

Mrs. Hartfelt shook her head, “I can’t allow you to leave until it’s safe. Think of it this way, if you get sick then you won’t be able to care for your family.”

Alastor took Y/n’s hand in his, “It’ll be alright, my dear. Annalise is a smart girl, I’m sure she’ll be able to manage,” he smiled reassuringly.

Besides there’s no way in hell I’m letting you leave this house right now.

“Alright, thank you so much for your hospitality,” Y/n gave in.

———————————————————————

“Here you go, dear,” Mrs. Hartfelt handed Y/n one of her nightgowns, “Hm, you’re a petite little thing, aren’t you? It might be too big.”

“It’s fine, thank you,” Y/n smiled.

“You’re welcome, Sweetheart! Follow me, I’ll show you to the guest bedroom.”

Y/n followed her up the stairs and down the hallway to the very last room on the right. Mrs. Hartfelt pulled a ring of keys from one of the pockets in her apron. She unlocked the door and opened it.

“Well, there you are, my dear. Now, Alastor’s room is right across from this one,” she pointed to door on the left side of the hall, “So, if you need anything, you can ask him. Also, the first door on the right is the bathroom, alright?”

So, Alastor will be sleeping right across from me? Hehe, I wonder how deep he sleeps?

“Thank you so much, Claudine! You’re very kind for letting me stay the night,” Y/n said.

“Of course! Now, I’ll leave you be. Good night, Y/n.”

“Good night.”

Y/n stepped into the room, turned on the lamp, and closed the door behind her. The room had a canopy bed, a dresser, a vanity, and floor length mirror. She took off her shoes and stepped out of her dress.

She carefully folded it and placed it on the dresser. Next came off her pink slip, her garters and stockings, and finally her brassiere. She stood there, staring at herself in the mirror.

The scar from the time her father cut her stomach with a knife ever present on her otherwise smooth skin. She fingered it and winced. Whenever she touched it, she swore she could still feel the cold blade slicing into her flesh. The pain still very much fresh in her mind.

“Will you still think I’m beautiful when you see this?”

She snapped out of whatever trance she was in and pulled the white long sleeved nightgown over her head. It reached down to her ankles, but it probably only reached to Mrs. Hartfelt’s calves. It was also slightly loose in the shoulders, but it would have to do.

Meanwhile, Alastor was washing the dishes in the kitchen while his mother came in.

He smiled, “Well, what do you think of her?”

“She’s a sweet girl. Pretty, good even temperament. I like her,” his mother replied.

“That’s wonderful! I knew you’d like her. She’s a peach, isn’t she? A real Southern Belle,” He exclaimed.

She laughed, “It’s also cute how you gush over her. Is she your girlfriend yet?”

“Not yet, I’m still in the midst of wooing her,” he half joked.

While it wasn’t exactly formal courting, he was waiting the perfect time to ask her to be his girlfriend.

“I don’t think you have to do much wooing, I see the way she looks at you and how you look at her. You too are quite smitten with each other.”

Alastor didn’t say anything, continuing to wash and dry the dishes.

“Oh, Honey, will do me a favor? Get my sleeping drops and put them in a cup of water for me. I have to go make sure the doors and windows are shut tight so the water doesn’t get in the house.”

“Sure,” he replied, putting the last of the dishes away.

“Thank you, love! And remember, only three drops. More than that and I won’t be able to get up early.”

“Three drops. Understood,” he smiled at her.

She ruffled his hair affectionately before going to do her task.

Alastor poured a glass of water and then got out his mother’s sleeping drops. He put the first two drops in before an intriguing idea popped into his head.

If I just put in a drop or two more, Mother might sleep more soundly. Then Y/n and I can…have a little fun.

He squeezed the next drop in. Before putting the fourth in, he wondered if this would actually be a good idea.

It’s not as if she’ll die or anything that serious.

In went another drop.

And then another one.

Five drops were now in his mother’s cup.

“That should do it. Sleep well, Momma,” he said to himself before putting the bottle up.

His mother came back into the kitchen, “Ah, thank you kindly, Darling!”

“You’re very welcome, Mother,” he grinned as he handed her the cup.

He kissed her cheek, “Good night.”

“Good night,” she replied before heading off to bed, taking a few swigs along the way.

———————————————————————

Alastor knocked on the guest bedroom door, “Are you still awake, babydoll?”

“Just a second, pretty boy,” replied Y/n.

Soon the door swung open, “I’ve been waiting for you, Sugar.”

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. But the good news is my mother should be out for the count right about now,” he lifted her up, carrying her bridal style to his room.

“Are you sure she won’t be waking up anytime soon?”

“Quite sure, I slipped her a few extra sleeping drops,” he chuckled.

“Ah, good ol’ sleeping drops,” she laughed.

He laid her down on his bed, a double bed with a nice wooden frame. He crawled on top of her, making sure to be the one to steal a kiss this time. She sighed contentedly as those familiar soft lips were back on hers. Wet kissing noises filled the room mixed with tender moans, lips moving in sync with one another.

“I didn’t…get to…tell you this before,” she said.

“Yes?”

“You’re really good at this.”

“Thanks, I’ve never done this with anyone before,” he bragged humbly.

“Really? Me neither.”

Alastor peppered little kisses along her jaw, before nibbling on her earlobe.

Y/n bite down on her lip, “Ooo…ah! That feels…amazing!”

He grinned, licking the shell of her ear.

“You know…I’m so glad you…came to my room. I was getting pretty lonely without you.”

“Really? How lonely, my dear?” He whispered in her ear.

“Well, before you came knocking, I was…oh I shouldn’t say it!” She turned away.

“Now you have to tell me,” he made her look at him, “or we can just go to bed?”

She knew from the sounds of it, that was an order, not a request.

“It’s so unladylike! But if I must tell you, I was…touching myself,” she said with the most innocent look in her eyes.

That should get him all riled up. Hehe.

She was what? Oh dear lord, this woman’s gonna be the death of me.

“Is that so? Hmm, you’re naughtier than I thought you were, Darling…I like that,” he licked his lips, “Do you often play with yourself?”

“Every night, since I met you. I find my hands wandering around my body. Touching, stroking, squeezing…I pretend they’re your hands and I cry out your name,” she got right into his ear, “Alastor!”

His eyes darkened with lust, “Well, then that’s something we have in common, our nightly routine.”

“You don’t think I’m a slut then?”

“No, no! Ma chérie, I could never think of you in such a degrading way. You’re not a slut, you’re my naughty girl,” he planted kisses on the crook of her neck.

“Oh, I like that. Call me that again please?” She smiled, blushing.

“What? My naughty girl? My naughty little girl who gets off to the thought of me,” he smirked, lightly sucking on her neck.

She giggled and moaned.

She started to finger one of the buttons on his shirt, “If you take this off, I’ll take off this nightgown.”

He gave her a sultry grin as he began unbuttoning his shirt, “You have yourself a deal, little lady.”

She watched him with eager anticipation, rubbing her thighs together.

As the final button came undone, her eyes lit up, “You’re gorgeous, Sugar. Absolutely gorgeous.”

His face flushed as he tossed his shirt to the floor.

He was gorgeous with his broad shoulders, perfect pecs, toned biceps, and six pack abs. He had a few light patches of hair on his chest and a sexy happy trail.

She placed her small hand on his chest and let it run down towards his lower stomach.

He gently took hold of it, pressing a few little kisses on her wrist, “Your turn, Baby. Though, I already know for a fact that every part of you is utterly enchanting.”

That’s no lie either, my dear. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

She blushed under his lustful gaze, slowly lifting the borrowed nightgown.

I hope I live up to your expectations. But this ugly scar…

Now it was his eyes lighting up, “You are ravishing, Darling.”

He kissed her stomach before she even got the item of clothing off, causing her shudder, heat pooling in her knickers.

Finally it was off, and he kissed his way up to her breasts. They were small and pretty.

“I know that they’re not big but I hope they still please you…” she shyly whispered.

“What on earth are you talking about, my dear!? Your bubs are perfect. They’re perky and pretty. They also fit nicely in my hands,” he gave them a few soft squeezes.

She moaned his name, “Oh Alastor…”

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled into a passionate kiss. Their mouths practically devoured each other. Y/n suddenly felt Alastor’s tongue on her bottom lip, begging for entry. She obliged, slightly smiling as she parted her lips for him. Their tongues met, swirling around each other. He groaned softly as she began rub her clothed crotch against his.

His cock was already hard, but thanks to her gyrations, it somehow hardened even more. He wrapped her leg around his waist as he copied her motions. Together they found a rhythm.

Every time he grind against her, the head of his covered member stroked her clit.

“Th…that feels…amazing! Don’t stop, Sugar,” Y/n cried out, running her hands over his muscular back.

Alastor smirked at her flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips, “Don’t worry, I didn’t plan on stopping, babydoll.”

The skin on his back felt different than the rest of his body.

These feel like scars. They go all the way down his back. Is he…is he like me?

He started kissing her behind her ear, making his way down to her pretty little neck, sucking and nipping gently at it. She couldn’t stop sighing and gasping from the pleasure. Her sweet little voice was getting higher and higher.

It wasn’t long until she started to feel that familiar tingling sensation from head to toe. She shuddered as she came undone, her knickers soaked. Her face twisted in ecstasy.

“You look and sound so cute when you climax,” he praised, gently kissing her lips.

He could feel his release coming as well, “Seems as though I’m not far from mine…Fuck.”

She gasped, that was the first time she ever heard him curse. Y/n cupped his face with her little hands, “I want to see the face you make.”

Alastor chuckled, his breath heavy. He put his forehead to hers. His movements became sloppier as he was chasing his own high now.

Just a few more short thrusts and he came in his pants. His eyes nearly rolled back, face flushed and mouth agape.

They panted together, faces covered in sweat. She smiled up at him and he smiled down at her.

He’s so pretty.

She’s so pretty.

Alastor gave her a tender kiss on her forehead, brushing her hair out her face.

He got off of her and picked up the nightgown, “Arms up.”

She giggled and raised her arms. He pulled the nightgown over her head, helping her get dressed. He took a pause for a second as he looked down at her stomach.

How on earth did I miss that!?

“What happened here, Sweetheart?” He asked in a concerned tone, running his finger gently over the scar on her stomach.

“What happened to your back? I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

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a-simple-imagine · 1 year ago

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Nothing But Cowards

Requested by anonymous: “I was wondering if you could just write about, having a fight and then make up, fluff and angst? If not that’s totally fine”

“I'd like to request a Jordan Li x fem reader where they're dating in secret from the friend group because of everything going down but one morning they oversleep and one of their friends find them curled up in bed together and it's followed by giggles and fluff?”

Pairing: Jordan Li x fem!reader

words: 3.7k+

WARNINGS - mentions of weird hospitals and tortured kids, strong language

GodU had always been your parents' dream. they held such high and heavy hopes for you. their perfect little superhero. a future member of the seven. when you were younger, you hated the idea. you felt... exploited. they forced this life onto you. gave you compound V and for what? so you could become some clog in a corporate machine? help sell merchandise for Vought? but as you got older and realised that you were kinda stuck with your powers, you felt more obligated to follow through with their dream. to actually be a hero. so you applied for Godolkin University. got in. and became a crime-fighting major. that is how you met Jordan Li. They were much stronger than you would ever be. both physically and mentally. the ability to shift between two forms gave them two separate skill sets all wrapped up in one identity. and they were so confident in their identity. not always a boy. not always a girl. just so confidently themselves. and you admired them so much. They were truly the strongest person you knew or at least you thought so.

it was a weird moment shrouded in the darkness of night. you were shaking a little from rage or the cold, you couldn't quite tell. everything was so incredibly fucked. Marie's roommate had gone missing because of some stupid plan of Andre's imagining. you just found out that there was some weird hospital under the school that was experimenting on people; including Sam, Luke's brother who was apparently still alive and in fact did not commit suicide. not to mention Luke was still gone. he used to give some great advice. used to kick your ass in sparring sessions but would occasionally let you win just to keep you on your toes. he was your friend. and you missed him a lot. you could never understand what happened; or why it happened. All these mysteries were piling up like old comic books. so many chapters to one confusing story that if you missed a single issue it became almost impossible to follow. this was impossible to follow. everyone was arguing. people were taking sides. Marie wanted to find Emma, who had infiltrated the woods, to help Andre who was trying to save the kids trapped down there. Jordan was more pissed about rankings than tortured kids. Cate wanted everyone to just back up and not do anything reckless. you wanted to yell at them. you knew rankings were important to Jordan. they wanted to be the best. at least Cate was worried about not dying. your parents' words hang heavy on your shoulders. this was your chance to do some good. to live up to their dreams without becoming just another vought puppet.

"don't you want to be a hero?" your voice is loud. louder than expected. the question was mainly aimed at Jordan. the person who went toe to toe with Golden Boy just to protect Marie; someone they hardly even knew at that point. that was after the club. you wish you could say you don't think about that night. everyone else seemed to just move on but it haunts your dreams. it's a cloudy memory of white powder and thick red liquid. "we almost killed someone."

there is a brief flash of something. Regret, maybe? before the expression turns dark and defensive. "we didn't do shit." and that was partly the problem. you didn't hold the weapon but you still ran. you left a woman to bleed out because you were too high. even sober, you wouldn't have been able to do much but you could have done something. anything. Nobody likes to talk about that day. the same way nobody talks about what went down with Luke. or how, if they had their way, nobody would talk about this weird hospital. If Cate and Jordan got their way, you'd just go back to school where all that mattered was who held that number one spot. currently andre. not Jordan.

"Exactly which is worse, if it wasn't for Marie we would have all been royally fucked." you articulate. irritation bubbling deep in your chest. "we can do some good here- we can help people."

"you're just gonna get yourself killed"

"at least I'm not running away again," you say. Jordan can make all the scooby doo references she wants but you wouldn't entertain the thought of leaving this down to Marie once again. "you wanna know why Andre is number one instead of you?"

"politics."

"because he is the only one person here who is trying to do something." You growl. "you're just a selfish asshole." if all they cared about was their ranking then you had to explain it in terms they'd understand. Their jaw tenses.

"Okay so what does that make you?" they spit. a particular venom dripping from their tone. "I've helped people- actually saved people. can you say the same?" they ask. "you're basically scared of your own shadow."

"Jordan don't."

"no," they interrupt Cate before she can continue. "I may be selfish for not wanting to go on some stupid suicide mission but when you realise what's really at stake here, don't come crying to me." Jordan's words hang heavy in the air, how do you even reply to that? your mouth opens but nothing comes out so you just walk away. Leaving your friends to continue arguing.

a bitter flavour lingers in your mouth. a painful feeling concealed deep inside your chest. you can't control how others perceive you but is that really how Jordan sees you? some coward who ran to them whenever things got tough? maybe they were right. you were no hero. you may have superpowers. you may spend hours studying techniques and training in the gym but that's just school. it didn't mean anything. You had never saved the day. you had never actually done anything. you haven't spoken to Jordan. Not since that night. they had texted a few times but you haven't even opened them. you don't want anything to do with them right now but you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss them. you missed them a lot. nobody knew about your situation with Jordan. you had both decided to keep it on the down low while you figured stuff out. and with everything going on, it had just never been the right time.

a knock at the door. you don't bother getting out of the bed you had been rotting in for hours; staring up at the ceiling as the sun went down and darkness enveloped the room. another knock. you bury yourself deeper in your duvet but the knocking doesn't stop. it just gets louder. a loud groan as you roll out of bed. your roommate was always forgetting their key but when the door opens, your stomach sinks. it wasn't your roommate. you instantly close the door.

"Seriously,"

"fuck off," you yell back. they knock again. yanking open the door, you spy Jordan Li once again. femme. sweaty. gym gear. duffel bag hanging off their shoulder. "fuck off," you push on the door again but they slap their hand against it.

"Just give me a chance," they probably just wanted to yell at you some more and you weren't in the mood. you shove harder. "I could stand here all night." your brow creases. Jordan probably would too. they're very persistent. with a heavy sigh, you relinquish pressure on the door and it swings open as they let themselves in.

"what do you want?" your eyes follow her as she drops the gym bag down and begins wandering around your room. they had been here before. They knew what it looked like. their hand slides over the wood of your desk. they pick up the open book, presumably glancing over the content before dropping it back down. "Jordan."

"hm," they look at you almost perplexed. like they had been lost in their own little world.

"what do you want?" you request more firmly. they just stared back like it was a crazy thing to be asking. they drop back to lean against your desk. you're waiting for them to say something. anything. but their gaze just falls to the floor. you sigh softly, still loitering by the door. you would leave if this wasn't your room. "why are you here, Jordan?"

"I wanted to see you," their shoulders rise and fall. "everything is so fucked up. a hospital under the school like what the fuck?"

a secret hospital under the school was very messed up. you can't even imagine the things they get up to down there. also, Luke's brother was down there. that's why Emma went down in the first place before she disappeared. "yeah," you nod a little. "I guess."

"And Luke's brother being alive this whole time?" you wonder where this is going. you knew all this. you were there when everyone was arguing. your brow furrows a little.

"Can you get to the point?"

"well it's a little fucked isn't it?"

"You're being weird," you state. monitoring them carefully. they still wouldn't look at you but they did push up from the desk and towards the mini fridge.

"you got anything to drink?" they question, pulling it open.

"Jordan. leave."

"What?" they ask, still looking in your mostly empty little fridge.

"I said leave," you declare firmly. "I would like you to leave."

"why?"

"you know why." they sighed loudly, thrusting the fridge closed with a loud slap. "you don't get to just pretend nothing happened."

"I don't know why you're angry, you're the one who called me selfish." Jordan insists. "Said Andre was better than me."

"You are selfish. All you care about is your stupid ranking."

"It's not stupid," Jordan fires back. "It is important if I wanna get somewhere,"

"Who fucking cares," you groan "Like I get it, you wanna be a hero but this is way bigger than all that."

"And what are you gonna do exactly?" there's a bite behind her words. She's getting defensive. "Whats your plan to save the day Superman?"

"I don't..." you snap before trailing off to a much quieter tone. "know exactly,”

"It's a death wish,"

"We have to do something.”

“no, we don’t.” Jordan replies. “we don’t have to do anything. This is way above our pay grade.”

“of course, you’d say that,” you groan loudly. “can you leave now.”

"I-" They seem like they're about to bite back but they stop short. a tense jaw. they let it go. "I miss you, okay."

"I don't care," you did care. "leave." you yank open the door. For a beat, they seem taken aback but it rapidly fades. "now."

"just hear me out."

"no Jordan," you huff. "just go. I'm not arguing with you anymore."

they watch you for a second. "I don't want to argue" they clarify. "please?” there’s an unusual desperation in their voice. one you’ve never heard before. it builds a degree of sympathy amongst your anger. you let the door fall closed with a click.

“fine," you cross your arms over your chest "What do you want?"

"you were right," she declares softly. the statement alone takes you by surprise. Jordan? admitting she was wrong? you'd comically gasp if you weren't annoyed with them.

"I don't understand."

"I said you were right."

"No, I heard you," you explain. "look, Jordan-"

"I'm sorry, okay?" they reply sharply "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"why are you making this so difficult?" Jordan asks. "I've apologised so can we just watch a movie or something?" you raise a curious brow. Surely they weren't naive enough to believe you would simply forgive them just like that? There was more to this story that they were avoiding.

"you can't be fucking serious," a humourless laugh. "you don't even really mean it."

"I do though."

"no you don't," you sigh. walking towards them. "look at me and apologise- apologise properly."

"Ugh, I already apologised," they groan loudly, pairing it with a roll of their eyes. It just annoys you even more. "why can't you just forgive me?"

"Because you don't even know why you're apologising," you stress. "it's half-baked. you don't mean it. and I'm tired so-”

"I'm fucking scared" they blurt out. "I'm scared."

A look of surprise; shock. Their very loud confession caught you off guard. Jordan Li wasn't scared of anything. They’d made that bold claim a great many times. "of what?"

"of losing you," they yell back; their hands come up to run slowly over their face. Their hair becomes shorter. They physically grow taller. Shielded by his fingertips, it's pretty apparent that he shouldn't have said that or at least hadn't meant to. You don't know what to say; your head tilts slightly to one side. how do you respond to that? it still wasn't technically an apology. "for fuck sake."

"of losing me?" you recite slowly. "why would you lose me?"

"Because you're an idiot," they urge. "who wants to help people."

"dude."

"Sorry but like it's true. you're a fucking idiot," they repeat. "and I admire that."

"I'm... confused," you mumble softly.

"I admire how much you wanna help people despite knowing it’s stupid and you're probably gonna die" You can't tell if Jordan is just oblivious to what he was saying but it was far from getting him back in your good graces. "I wish I could be like that. naive enough to think I can make a difference."

"I feel like you're just insulting me," you comment.

they shrug a little. "I know this is still kinda new, the whole me and you thing but…” you can tell this is hard for them. expressing their feelings was not their strong suit. Their head hangs low. “it doesn’t matter,” they walk towards you but instead veer off towards their bag. you reach out for them; taking their hand. they were running hot, a sweaty hand.

“you can tell me,” you express, a gentle squeeze. “we’ve been friends for ages…”

“you’re just gonna call me selfish again.” their voice a whisper but they make no effort to pull away. You step closer.

“then you’ve got nothing to lose, right?” it’s a joke. a harmless one but they don’t laugh or even acknowledge it.

“I… I just don’t want you dying before we get a chance to really explore whatever this,” they use their free hand to motion between you. “is. so yeah, I lashed out because I like you or whatever and want you alive. sorry.” you watch them for a moment. their inability to meet your gaze. the light dusting of pink that graced their cheeks. it was really sweet if not a little unexpected. Jordan was so cool most of the time. it was a rarity to see them express such emotions. it makes you smile. you just laugh a little in amusement.

"Jordan," you say warmly. "you're not gonna lose me," you step even closer, reaching for their other hand; running your thumb over their knuckles. "I understand what you're saying but I don't think it's reason enough not to help,"

"I know," the express softly, finally meeting your gaze. there is something unspoken behind those eyes but you choose not to push. “I wish it was.”

you keep your eyes on there’s taking in this tender moment. a moment of vulnerability. a moment of connection. you relish in the way their hands fit so comfortably in yours. you really liked Jordan. liked their attitude. admired their strength. wished for their sense of loyalty. you were so smitten. so lucky to be their chosen person. a smile settles before you slowly lean in. It catches them off guard but they soon settle into it. “I’m scared too,” whispered against their lips. "but I think the bravest thing we can do is try anyway.“ his eyes flutter closed, letting his forehead fall against yours.

"I didn't mean it when I called you a coward," Jordan whispers, his eyes open. Lingering on yours. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

"I am a coward," you express. "I've always wanted to be a hero. it's all my parents want. but I'm scared. terrified. I never could have fought Luke like you did. but I wanna try now. I want you to try too," you ghost their lips. It's subtle; intimate. "if you really wanna protect me, Jordan, you'd help because I'm doing this with or without you."

"do I have to decide right now?" they ask quietly. You're almost disappointed by their reply but you can't really blame them. This wasn't another student hero gone rogue. This was a whole institution willing to do anything to keep its secrets. "do you forgive me?"

"do you forgive me?"

"I was never mad at you,"

"I was mad at you." you declare.

"I know," they nod. "you weren't exactly subtle about it." their expression becomes playful and bright; a strong contrast from the conversation you were just having. You can't help but smile as you pull back.

"do you wanna stay over tonight?" there's a shift in the air. all that tension fading away. you're not mad. you're not thrilled either. but you liked Jordan. a lot. and you could understand their desire to protect you. In a way, it was very sweet. You didn't realise how much they liked you. "we could watch that movie? or Property Brothers? whatever you want."

"Whatever I want, huh?" their hands vacate yours and instead move to your hips. Pulling you close. ever so close. pressing their body ever so slightly into yours "Anything at all?" masc! Jordan was taller than their male counterpart but far less intimidating. firmer. gentler. it’s a rather present contrast.

"you're such a perv,"

"you don't even know what I was gonna say," they insist.

"Anyone with half a brain could figure it out," you tease. their hands slip around to the small of your back pulling you flush against them. playing into your words. "but what Jordan wants. Jordan gets." whispered in their ear, you place a gentle kiss upon their cheek. "right?"

you can feel them practically shudder against you. A heavy sigh left their lips. "oh she wants to play tonight?" all signs of sincerity washed away by something darker. desire. you meet their eyes, lips quirk up into a smirk before they lean in once more. it’s ever so light but you’re quick to deepen the kiss; chasing that warmth that spills through your veins but they pull away instead. mischief laces their expression. their fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt. they pull back just enough to murmur, “I’m gonna make you beg for it,” their words hot against your ear. A shiver spills down your spine as you lean into them; wanting to be closer. As close as possible as they guide you back towards your bed.

it's safe to say you're smitten with the infamous Jordan Li. and when it comes down to it you're delighted when you're together. they bring out a more mischievous side of you. and you like to think you bring out a more vulnerable side of them. You shuffle further into their embrace. Basking in the feeling of their arms around you as you hide from the rising sun peeking through the blinds. A content hum as you drift in and out of consciousness. Still so early. You feel them lean more into you.

"what the fuck," a voice drags you to the land of the living. And as your tired eyes flutter open, your friends stare back. Both you and Jordan shoot up, instantly breaking any contact. Pulling the covers up to hide the fact you were both very naked. Marie stands at the end of your bed; wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth. Cate and Andre are just by the door. how the fuck did they even get in? "we should- sorry," you watch Marie scramble for the door shoving Andre out just as Cate yanks him.

you both fall back down in unison. If anyone had seen it would almost seem planned. After a moment, you roll back into them. giggling into the crook of their neck. after a moment you nip the skin. "guess we're not a secret anymore," muttered against their skin.

"This isn't funny."

"it kinda is," you shrug "Quite the shock for those three." A giggle before you sink your teeth into her neck earning yourself a satisfied sigh but they're quick to push you away. A stern look on their face

"you agreed it was best we didn't tell everyone until all this craziness was over."

"yeah but don't you feel just a little relieved," you ask. You can practically see the gears turning in their head. It's... Cute. You move so that you're now straddling them, hands drifting delicately over their chest. Their skin is so warm; and soft. Their short bob is a mess against your pillow. they looked so peaceful. so beautiful. A strip of yellow sunlight reflected off their chain. "I'm glad everyone knows now. plus," you smile mischievously. "now I can kiss you whenever I want. " You lean down slowly and place your lips against hers. "and that's all I want," mumbled against their lip.

"I guess it is one less thing to worry about," they muse, bringing their hands up to rest against your hips. her fingers apply just a little bit of pressure. you peck their lips once more before pulling away. a gentle tap on their nose, their face scrunches up.

"you shift in your sleep sometimes did you know that?"

"What?"

"you were definitely a guy when we fell asleep and then suddenly I'm snuggling up to a girl? is it like a conscious choice or?" they hesitate for a moment before playfully shoving you off them.

"shut up,"

"ow!!" you groan dramatically, falling down against the bed. "ow. that hurt so much. I'm in so much pain. how could you be so mean," you groan loudly, shuffling about a little for dramatic effect.

"you’re so dramatic,” Jordan rolls their eyes but a mischievous grin spreads over their lips. “now get up we’re gonna be late.”

“for what?”

“class.” they sit up. a hand coming to settle on your stomach. you don’t move. and neither do they. and in those few seconds, everything feels at peace. “you really are beautiful,” they eventually say before finally getting out of bed.

#gen v #jordan li #jordan li x reader #the boys #jordan li x you

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anyarose011 · 7 months ago

Text

One More Reason to Control Myself {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Angus Tully knows she's hiding something. Why else would she lie about where she was the morning of Christmas Eve?

Part 5 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, and mention of exploitation of a minor.

We get an Angus POV chapter, motherfuckaas!! I had fun writing from his perspective while also giving him a little more backstory as well. Also, considering I want to try and eliminate the Y/N effect, anytime there's a she or her (italicized) it's you, dear reader. Shoutout to me forgetting there was a character named Danny in the movie, so I have to cover my ass for naming the creep "Daniel". Also, part 2 of an Angus/Reader coded song (what do you mean it breaks my heart? No it doesn't!)

Word Count: 7.1k

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“So, why’d you miss supper last night, and why is little miss Jane Bennet missing breakfast now too?”

That was what Mary asked Angus and Paul Hunham at Christmas Eve breakfast. Mr. Hunham glanced around, trying not to show his nerves, but failed. “Oh, we went into town on some uh, school-related business. As for my daughter…I do not know; she wasn’t there when I woke up, have you seen her, Angus?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

Mary hummed. The door opened, and in came Danny, the janitor who, even in the below freezing temperatures of winter, somehow almost had a smile on his face. Carrying in a mop and bucket, he greeted. “Good morning, everybody.”

“Good morning,” Mary pointed to the kitchen. “you can go on in and fix yourself a plate.”

He nodded. “I just saw something funny. I walked into the gym, and someone had vomited in there.”

Angus stilled as he drank his orange juice. Mary looked at him and Mr. Hunham, and the two of them looked at each other.

“You don’t say,” it was Paul who spoke first. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Angus answered loosely.

“No, uh, I’ll look into that right away. Thank you.”

Mary raised one of her brows. “I see how it is.”

Danny shook his head, walked over to Angus, and placed the bucket and mop by him before walking away. “You’re out your mind.”

Angus sighed, fiddling with the eggs on his plate. It had been a week of a frozen hell for him (perhaps not so bad…he made a friend. A friend who, despite there being billions of nerves in the body, she still managed to get on every single one of them; yet, he knows he does the same to her). Still, as Christmas Eve was supposed to be a time of excitement for the holidays, Angus Tully felt nothing of the sort.

He had no idea if it was because he was getting older, or because his father wouldn’t be there after Christmas mass, carrying him out of the car when he pretended to fall asleep.

Maybe it’s because he didn’t live in the same house anymore where the Christmases he used to love took place…

Fortunately, his moments of wintertime dread were gone once the doubles doors from the outside were opened. He watched as Mr. Hunham’s daughter entered, pulling off her gloves and unwrapping the scarf that was brought up over her hair and around her neck.

“And where were you?” Mary was the first to interrogate, sitting beside Angus, still smoking her cigarette.

She smiled, approaching the table. “Out.”

“Out where?” Her father then questioned.

Chuckling, the girl pulled out a chair by her father and sat down, taking an orange of the fruit basket, peeling it. “Just on a walk. I gotta clear my head from you people sometimes.”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, not necessarily shocked by her response, but still bewildered. “Clear your-? How long were you out?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I woke up around seven-thirty, read for a bit, then went out. So…maybe eight? Not for long, that’s for sure.”

Angus knew she was lying. He didn’t mean to peek into her room when he woke up (genuinely he didn’t, no matter what anyone says). Even though Mr. Hunham decided not to wake everyone up at the crack of dawn since Angus was the only holdover, the boy’s internal clock wouldn’t let him sleep in. So, the first thing he needed to do was go to the bathroom, and as he passed by the doorway to her room, she wasn’t there.

He didn’t think anything of it until he was eating breakfast at eight-thirty, and he still didn’t see her.

“I see.” Her father furrowed his brow, but then shrugged, going back to lunch. “Well, please at least eat something other than fruit.”

She took the whole bowl. “But it’s the candy of the good ol’ days.”

“And what are the good ol’ days?” Mary huffed,

“Ancient Rome and Greece,” she popped a grape into her mouth. “also when women had less rights than they do now.”

Angus snorted, trying to then cover up his amusement with a cough. He didn’t find women not having rights funny (please believe him), it was just unexpected of her to say. Still, he felt all eyes on him, and refused to meet any of them as he picked up a piece of bacon.

He likes to think Mr. Hunham’s daughter was smiling at him when she stood up. “Fine, I’ll get real food.”

She went to the kitchen to grab a plate, and Mary hummed. “Never thought I’d see that girl ever be happy this early in the morning.”

Angus finally looked up. “She usually isn’t?”

Mary smirked, placing her cigarette between her lips. “I don’t think you’d last a day with her if you were both ten.”

There was nothing else to do after Mr. Hunham lectured Angus for an hour about the aqueducts in Rome. What was usually two and a half hours was only one, since the teacher claimed: “I’m feeling a little generous because of the season.”

Not because he wanted to drink alone in Dr. Woodrup’s office reading mystery novels (Don’t be ridiculous).

So, that brought Angus Tully back up to the infirmary, to do what, who fucking knows? He glanced into the other room and saw Mr. Hunham’s daughter laying on the middle bed, reading. When she looked up, sensing his presence, he instinctively hid behind the corner.

“You don’t have to be creepy anymore.” She spoke with the sarcasm he knew so well. “We’re friends, remember?”

Angus, playing it cool, entered the room, leaning against the wall. “Who says I was ever creepy to begin with?”

“I did.” She placed a bookmark in her book before setting it down and sitting up. “And you know, ordinary people just enter a room; they usually don’t bother checking.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “maybe you’ve convinced me there are ghosts here and I just want to be safe?”

Not because he was hoping she was in her room and had a reason to go talk to her (Don’t be ridiculous).

She rolled her eyes yet smiled anyway. “Took you long enough to figure out I’m always right.”

“I said ‘maybe’. What’re you reading?”

“Just now or in general?”

“Yes.”

She held up The Two Towers. “You ever read Tolkien?”

Angus sat on the spare bed across from her. “I read The Hobbit my freshman year; one of the only books I liked reading in school.”

His eyes fell to the stack of books on her nightstand. Little Women, Sense and Sensibility, Giovanni’s Room, andThe Count of Monte Cristo.

“You’ve read all of these?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah.” She then pointed to The Count of Monte Cristo on the bottom. “Well, I actually tried to read this one when I was fourteen but got bored with it; I’m trying again.”

“Right after you reread everything else?”

“Shut up.”

She tried to sound serious, but he watched as she turned her head to try and hide her smile. He wasn’t ashamed to show her his. Angus’ eyes went back to the stack of books, and he took out Little Women, flipping to the first page.

“‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.’ Grumbled Jo.” He read aloud, then looked up from the book. “Now I know why Mr. Hunham calls you that.”

“Are you saying I’m selfish, Fitzwilliam?”

He shook his head, going back to reading. “No, you just complain a lot.”

She scoffed. “Just wait until you meet Amy. I love her, but I’m glad I don’t have sisters.”

Angus’ didn’t respond, his eyes trailing over the words on the pages. He didn’t truly know why he kept reading; whether it was out of boredom, or perhaps he was already hooked on the story, he would never tell.

“Wait,” he heard her. “are you still reading?”

“Damnit, you made me miss my spot.” He glared at her.

She already knew he didn’t mean it (that much). Still, the girl giggled, laying back down on the bed and opening The Two Towers, going back to her own reading. They were like that for ten minutes perhaps? It was a strange time that went by fast and slow. No, Angus Tully wasn’t even doing this to think of what to say to her, he was genuinely engrossed by Louisa May Alcott.

Then, it was when he was more than half-way done with the first chapter, that he asked. “Where were you this morning?”

She looked over at him. “I’m guessing you hate the book?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He sat up. “And no, it’s actually tolerable.”

“Tolerable for it being written by a woman?” She sat up as well. “And for your information, I just went to the woods. What, were you worried about me or something?”

“Maybe…I don’t know, maybe.” Were the only thoughts behind his eyes, but his mouth moved differently.

“No. Wait, you’re walking around the woods, and you’re calling me creepy?”

“What’s so creepy about walking around the woods by myself?” She questioned. “If there was someone following me, then they would be creepy, dumbass.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t know anyone who spends their time frolicking through the woods for fun.”

“You didn’t really know anyone, but neither did I, so we’re even.” She stood up, going to the window to look out of it. “I also prefer frolicking through flower fields, but this isn’t the best season for that.”

Angus hummed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

He debated on asking her why she was out there for an hour and a half; if she was in the woods, or if she was even outside. Just as he was battling with himself and wondering how to ask her without her biting his head off, he saw her tremble.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing he asked.

“Come over here.” She commanded without looking at him.

He stood up immediately, and as he was halfway to the window, she giggled; a sound he had heard before but…not like this, somehow. Angus stood beside her at the window and watched as Mr. Hunham walked on the sidewalk by the quad, stretching.

“Look at that sad, little man.” She tisked.

Angus asked without looking away. “You talk about your dad like that?”

“You would too if he was yours.”

“Point made.”

They watched as the teacher picked up a stray football on the ground, and with perhaps the worst technique ever, threw it. Both she and Angus, as if her father would see them in the window, backed away from it, laughing at the absurdity.

“I almost feel bad now.” She said through her enjoyment. “That’s a lie, I don’t.”

Her honesty only caused Angus to laugh even more, and he can’t remember when the last time it was he had ever laughed this much. Especially over something so stupid.

“Well, it’s obvious he didn’t play football in high school.” He said.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “he’d go on and on about being president of Latin and Chess club.”

That’s where Angus’ amusement ceased. Even if it was at his own expense, he didn’t mind it at all since he could see just how wide her smile could get.

“Angus Tully, don’t tell me-.”

“-What’s wrong with Chess club?”

“I knew it!” She pointed at him. “You nerd!”

“You’re the one that knows all of Roman history and mythology like the back of your hand, and you’re calling me a nerd?!” He teased.

The girl snorted, crossing her arms. “Not all of it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“So why have I lost to you twice now?”

“I just got lucky.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“I’m serious!” He tried to brighten the strange air that settled in the room. “Your dad didn’t drill it into you for nothing.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” She hummed, sitting back on the bed. “So, you’re good at chess?”

He shrugged, taking a risk and sitting next to her (with about two feet of space of course). “I guess so. My…my dad taught me how to play, and I never beat him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, nearly losing himself in the memory. “I was like nine when this snowstorm hit, I was out of school for almost a week, and my dad and I just played the whole time.”

“So, you played without bathroom breaks, and you still didn’t win?”

“Okay, smartass.”

She smiled. “My dad tried teaching me chess and he beat me every time too.”

“You still play?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“I always cussed at my him whenever I lost, so probably not a good idea to keep going.”

Angus snickered. “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“You were cussing at seven?”

“He was an asshole!”

“Yeah, I’ve met him.”

It was almost horrifying how her face dropped at his comment. One where it was like the words themselves shocked her. Then, before Angus could fully register what had just happened, she was laughing.

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “I’m just imaging what you looked like as a kid.”

He tried to laugh it off with her, but that odd tension crept its way back in. “I was weird.”

“So was I. You should’ve seen me when I was twelve, my father drilling Roman knowledge into my head, proclaiming how, if I wanted to be better than all of the boys in my class, I had to work for it.” She grinned. “It’s like he tried to make me a small version of him, which was impossible from the start.”

Angus nodded, not exactly knowing how to respond. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” She shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t mean to, but I feel like he sometimes forgets I might want to wear ribbons in my hair, put on makeup, girly things like that that I almost called stupid, but they’re not. But could you imagine it? My father wearing makeup and…okay, he doesn’t have much hair for ribbons, but you get it.”

“I do.” He smiled.

She nodded, and they fell into another beat of silence. It was almost a competition as to who would speak first, and in the end, she surprisingly lost. She stood up from the bed.

“I uh…I promised Mary I’d help her in the kitchen.” She walked backwards. “You’re more than welcome to keep reading my ‘tolerable’ books written by women.”

Angus hummed, trying to shake off her abrupt exit. “Yeah, I got nothing else better to do. Maybe I’ll meet you downstairs and keep harassing you?”

“Yeah sure.”

With that, she turned on her heel and scurried out of the infirmary. Angus always found her to be strange; from the moment she stepped into Mr. Hunham’s classroom in September, to her just then. Still, it was a strangeness he couldn’t help but be intrigued by. Not the same as how a scientist would study a foreign species but…he had grown quite fond of her.

He already had a liking for her that first day he met her (despite her harsh and course attitude towards the others in class). Not a liking enough to have it be a crush per say (he was still annoyed with her). Then, the whole catastrophe of him being stuck with her over Christmas break only added fuel to a fire.

A fire that has both warmed and burned him all at once.

What kind of shit was he going on about? He read half of a chapter from Little Women, and now look at him!

Not knowing what else to do with himself, Angus slid The Count of Monte Cristo out from the bottom of the stack of books. It had been one of his favorites as a kid; ironic in both a sense that he read it as a child, but also his mother of all people recommended it to him. Before he could even flip it to the first page, he saw a small gap in the middle as if there was a bookmark. He opened it and found a letter; an already opened letter.

Angus’ blood ran cold at the sight of it, and as he took it onto his hands, he turned it over. It was addressed to her, and the stamp was a toy train. He had only gotten a glance at the first letter when Teddy stole it, and he recognized the stamp.

Sighing, it almost felt like the envelope was burning in his hand as he hunched over himself. He could’ve read it…it was right there, and it was already opened so it’s not like she would’ve ever known.

But he would’ve. And he knew there was no going back if he read whatever Daniel wrote to her, and even if it wasn’t bad (how could it not be), then he knew she’d be able to sniff him out like a rat that he’d read it.

Wait…Daniel…Danny…The janitor.

“Shit!” Angus hissed, almost falling off the bed, then sprinting out of the infirmary and running blindly though the school he has gone to for months.

He ran outside without a jacket on, looking around for Mr. Hunham. When he already saw his fingers beginning to turn white in a matter of a minute, he ran back into the school and navigated the halls as if he were a bat out of hell.

It took him quite literally running into Mr. Hunham for him to finally stop.

“God almighty, Mr. Tully!” He gasped. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Angus, trying to catch his breath, said. “Mr. Hunham, I have to tell you something.”

Immediately upon noticing his distress, the teacher’s harsh demeanor and voice dropped. “Well…alright, what is it?”

“Can-.” He looked around, feeling suddenly exposed in the hallway. “Can we do this somewhere else?”

“Sure, sure.” Mr. Hunham nodded, looking around as well until his eyes landed on the first door he saw. “Let’s uh, is there fine?”

“Yeah.”

They both entered into a classroom that neither had been in before. It was smaller in size, more than likely meant for honor’s classes, but it looked like it hadn’t been dusted since the beginning of the year when parent’s would visit. When the door was shut, Mr. Hunham turned back to him.

“Now, what’s going on?”

Angus said her name. “Someone’s been sending her letters.”

“What kind of letters?” He asked, his face a mix of confusion and even a hint of denial.

“I…” Angus looked down at the one he had in hand and held it out to the teacher. Mr. Hunham took it, slipping his reading glasses out of his pocket. Angus continued. “Someone named Daniel sent her one days ago, Kountze stole it and read it aloud to everyone back in the woods. I think it’s Danny, the janitor.”

The moment he said ‘Daniel’, he’d already seen Mr. Hunham’s entire demeanor change. He saw him visibly tense, as he read the letter what must have been a million times. As time stood still in the dingy classroom, the teacher swallowed thickly.

“You said she got another letter a few days ago? Where is it?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head.

“Mr. Kountze read it aloud, what exactly did it say?”

“I…” Angus paused, trying to remember just what was written so he wouldn’t miss a thing, “He asked her to send a picture of herself to him, and wished her a Merry Christmas. He sent her thirty-five dollars too; did he send more?”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, obviously bewildered at the amount of money. “No, he didn’t. Mr. Tully, did you even read this?”

“No.” His response was instant.

“Why not?”

Angus’ eyes trailed to the side, somehow finding the blank chalkboard much more appealing than Mr. Hunham. To be honest, anything at the time was more-.

“Angus,” His voice was stern, but not mean. It was enough to catch the boy’s attention, but not enough to scare him. “I need to know what you know, so we can help her.”

He took a deep breath. “Teddy made a joke that she…she…has pictures of herself in a skin mag.” It was absolute hell to watch Mr. Hunham sigh, so Angus looked away as he continued. “She didn’t say that she did, but she didn’t deny it, and I didn’t want to know whatever creepy shit Danny sent-.”

“-First off,” Mr. Hunham interrupted, rubbing his face. “this isn’t Danny the janitor.”

“How do you know?”

“Daniel,” He tried to say the name like he was a historical figure and not someone who made his skin crawl away from his body. “was...a family friend of some sort. That is all you have to know about him.”

Angus nodded, but couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest, and how his stomach began to tie itself into knots as he asked. “Why did he stop being a family friend?”

“I said that’s all you have to know about him.” He said with more of a bite, then calmed himself. “I’ll speak to her about this the next time I see her, and rest assured, I won’t mention you.”

“She’ll know it’s me.” He shook his head. “I found it in one of her books when she left the infirmary after we talked.”

Mr. Hunham clutched the letter in one hand while removing his glasses with the other. “Regardless of details I cannot share with you, this little incident should not effect on how you view my daughter-.”

“-It doesn’t! I just-!” He lashed out unexpectedly at even the assumption of him finding any shred of blaming her for what was happening to her. “I just…I want her to be okay. That’s it.”

The teacher all but froze at his response, it is apparent that he was not expecting him to say that. Still, after regaining himself, he nodded. “You’re a good man for doing this, you know that, right?”

Angus scoffed, shrugging. “I don’t think she’ll talk to me ever again.”

“She may not,” he nodded. “but she also might. I won’t force her to do either. Again, thank you for letting me know.”

“Sure.”

The two of them walked out of the classroom in silence, and with Mr. Hunham’s “See you at dinner?” and his student’s nod, Angus Tully was left alone again in the grand halls of the school.

A fate that has somehow always caught up with him ever since he got there.

Angus read the same Popular Mechanics magazine three times over since he found it the night he was the only one left behind at Barton, and he’d gotten sick of it after the second time.

So, with nothing else better to do, and with it starting to get dark, he went down into the kitchen, where apparently everyone but Danny was, helping Mary cook. Including her. She was washing vegetables in the sink while Mary was preparing a roast, both of them laughing at someone one of them said. Mr. Hunham was just at the table, peeling potatoes like his life depended on it.

“Mary.” Angus greeted, smiling at her. Mr. Hunham’s daughter immediately turned back to the sink upon seeing him.

Mary looked up. “Speaking of…”

Deciding to ignore the strange tension in the room (He has a knack for doing that, doesn’t he?), Angus’ eyes traveled around until they landed on a dish beside him. “Oh, brownies? God yes, I want all of these.”

“Ah, ah!” Mary scolded when he took one. “Just take one. The rest is for the Christmas party tonight.”

“What Christmas party? There’s a Christmas party?” He said her name. “Did you know there’s a Christmas party?”

She didn’t turn around, and only responded with. “Uh-.”

“-Yes, at Miss Crane’s house.” Mary interrupted her. “She and I are only going for a little bit, show our faces, and say we were there. Well, she might stick around since her little friend is there. You know, Miss Crane said she invited you too.”

Angus furrowed his brows, looking over at Mr. Hunham. “I want to go to the party.”

He stammered. “She-she didn’t mean it. We were just making small talk.”

Mary shrugged. “If you don’t want to go, don’t go. I’ll take him.”

“Mary can take me.” Angus reiterated.

“No, that’s not how it works.” Mr. Hunham raised his voice a hint. “You’re under my supervision.”

Angus frowned. “So, your own kid isn’t under your supervision, but I am?”

“Don’t even think about pulling me into this.” The ‘kid’ in question shook her head, not even turning around.

Still, he scoffed, bringing his eyes back to Mr. Hunham. “Okay, maybe it’s fine for you to sit around here and read books all day,” he turned on his heel, beginning to walk out. “but I’m losing my goddamn mind, Jesus!”

“Hey!” Mary yelled at him once he threw the brownie across the room. “Watch your mouth, young man! Not on Christmas Eve.”

Angus ignored her, storming off back to the infirmary. He didn’t even make it to his room and a bed to dramatically throw himself on and scream into a pillow. He rested his back against the wall before sliding down it. Now sitting, his shoulders still tensed at what just happened. He’d been stuck in the school for a full week, only being able to go out when he dislocated his entire shoulder.

Who the fuck did that piece of shit think he was for holding him captive?!

Closing his eyes, he thought back to what Dr. Gertler told him. Sure, the guy was a quack, but once or twice he actually had a few things that helped him. Angus breathed in, counting to four, held it for three, then released it for another four.

He repeated that until he felt the tension (mostly) fall away from him, and there was even a hint of calmness in his head.

Which was then lost when he opened his eyes, and she was peeking from around the corner.

“Jesus!” He gasped, and she immediately hid. Once his heart stopped beating so damn fast, he said. “Okay, now who’s being creepy?”

“…Me.” She said after a moment’s silence, still hiding.

Sighing, rested his head against the wall. “I’m sorry I yelled earlier.”

She finally showed herself, standing in front of him now. “I don’t think I’m the one you should apologize to but thank you. My dad said you can go to the party with Mary and I.”

That got Angus to sit up taller. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but he’s going with us, so it won’t be that fun.” She joked.

He snickered along with her, before asking. “What about dinner?”

“We’ll probably just have it at Miss Crane’s. We’ll just have a nice lunch or something tomorrow instead of tonight.” She explained before walking into her room.

This was what caught Angus Tully off guard. She wasn’t exactly acting like her father had just confronted her about the letters, she was being too nice to him…so did she know it was him? She had to; or was he just overthinking it and getting in his own head (Something he did frequently)?

“When are we leaving?” He asked.

“In an hour!” She yelled, her voice somewhat muffled. “So, get on it, Fitzwilliam.”

“Anything you say, Amy!”

He ran off before she could storm after him (like he assumed she would), and went back into his room, which had darkened quite a bit. He went to his bag and took out the razor and shaving cream that he had only opened a few times since the beginning of the semester. He shook the can and applied the cream to his face before bringing the blades of the razor up to shave.

There was honestly no need to. It’s not like he even had “sawdust under his nose” as one would put it when talking about the mustache men would try to grow after watching Top Gun, which didn’t exist at this time, but that’s beside the point.

Even so, as he wat attempting to shave what was not there, he heard a knock, and her voice asked. “Are you decent?”

“Yep.” He answered, not even bothering to glance at the hall of lockets she had knocked from.

She came into his eyesight and stood so close to him in the mirror that he could feel the heat of her skin on his. “Move over.”

“Why?” He scoffed playfully, yet still did so.

It was only then he noticed the small makeup bag she had in her hand, and she placed it on the sink before opening it and taking out a sponge and small jar of liquid that matched her skin tone (it was foundation; he’d heard the word before but didn’t know it was that until perhaps a year later).

“The lighting’s better in here.” She answered, getting close to the mirror and dabbing the liquid on the sponge and upon her face.

Angus took a second (and only a second, if he took any longer she’d yell at him) to look at her entire self, and saw that she was wearing a dress. A dress that he would never have imagined on her. Her hair was almost the same as always...but there was something more to it he couldn't quite verbalize.

She was still herself, and it was silly to Angus Tully that it took a different dress and perhaps some makeup (something he’d hardly see her wear) to realize just how…just how…

“You look…” His mouth trailed off faster than his brain before he could stop himself.

After finishing her foundation, she took out a powder and brush. As she applied the powder, she glanced up at him through the mirror, a smirk on her face that was holding back a laugh. “Yeah?”

He couldn't call her ‘pretty’ (both because she’d never talk to him again, and that would be belittling her), and he couldn't call her ‘beautiful’ (she just wouldn’t talk to him again period; and he’d probably be scaring her off). So, apparently, the best thing he could think of in a limited amount of time was-.

“-Like a girl.”

Oh, how attractive it was to open one of the windows and jump out of it. If it wasn’t the fall that would kill him, it would certainly be freezing to death in a foot of snow.

Instead, to his surprise, while she momentarily scowled at him (as she should have), she giggled. Shaking her head, she said. “I would say you look like a man, but there’s nothing about you to prove that.”

As his heart began to beat again from her apparent lack of offense, he took the towel off the rack and wiped the residue cream off his face. “Oh yeah? What am I then?”

“A boy.” She set down the brush and took out a small tube of liquid, shaking it. “A tall, little boy.”

He snorted, walking away from the mirror when her gaze became just a little too much. “You said you were friends with Miss Crane’s niece?”

“Yes.” Her tone changed somewhat (or was he just overthinking it).

“Do you think I could-?”

“-Should I put on eyeshadow?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You know,” she turned over her shoulder. “the color that goes on the eyelids?”

“I know what eyeshadow is. I’m not that big into makeup, so I don’t know.”

“Really?” She teased. “You aren’t into makeup?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She turned back to the mirror, opening the tube. “Nothing.”

Angus’ eyes scrunched as he smiled at her playfulness. “Well-.”

“-Shut up.” She interrupted him.

He scowled. “Huh?”

She had the pen (it was eyeliner; he actually knew what that was) hovering over her right eye, and she was glancing at him again through the mirror. “I’m doing the most important part, and it’s the one I’m horrible at, so I need complete silence.”

Angus Tully merely nodded, looking away. He didn’t know how long she took, but she knew she was finished when he heard her gasp.

“I did it!” He looked back and saw that she turned to him with the biggest smile on her face, and blackened wings kissing the corner of her eyes. “I did it!”

He could only nod. “Yeah, it looks good.”

She grinned from ear to ear before turning back to the mirror, setting down her eyeliner and getting out an eyelash curler. “Could I ask you a question, even though you’ll feel stupid afterwards?”

“Do your worst.”

“Why ‘Amy’?”

Angus felt safe to smile at that. “Does that bother you?”

“Why, on God’s green earth, would you say I was like Amy?!”

“Well,” he shrugged. “it pisses you off, that’s the first reason. Second is…she grew on me.”

She scowled, turning to look at him. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“I mean…you made her out to be so annoying, and someone who complains a lot which, yes she does. But she’s funny, and she sticks to herself like Jo does, but…I don’t know, I just like her.”

Her face fell for the second time that day; but not like it did that afternoon when he made a joke about her father. No, this time, he knew it was because she truly didn’t think he would say anything like that.

And, for the first time since he’d known her, she almost looked shy.

Something he thought would be the thing that terrified him the most that entire Christmas break.

So, when she didn’t respond, and wanting to disrupt the awkward silence, he then asked. “Wait, why was your dad so against going, but now he’s fine with it?”

She looked back at the mirror, looking at him through it. “Besides the fact it wouldn’t be fair that you’d be stuck here while I’d go, he has a crush on Miss Crane.”

Angus snorted. “Figures.”

She shrugged. “I kind of always knew. I mean, she’s worked here for five years, but I think he only started liking her last year. I’m also not sure what he’s more afraid of; how I’d react to him liking someone after Mom died, or him just liking her period.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

“My mother’s been in the ground for six years.” She decided to take the eyelash curler back in her hand, then brought it up to one of her eyes. “We still visit her of course. She wasn’t selfish either, and it’s been so long, so I don’t think she’d mind. Besides, I’m going to technically graduate next semester, and I don’t want to be stuck here, but I also don’t want him to be alone. Mary’s really his only friend so…yeah, I think I’d be okay if he was with Miss Crane.”

Angus nodded. At first, it felt almost invasive and even wrong for her to tell him all of that so effortlessly. But…he leaned into it the more she went on. She’d been vulnerable with him before (whether she thought it or not, she had been), but this time…it wasn’t a huge confession, it was just a simple conversation.

“I don’t…” He found himself saying.

He didn’t what? What was he going to say? Something about his father? His mother? It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her something.

She took the curler away from herself and turned to look at him. Her eyes…her damn-no, they weren’t damned; they were kind, gentle…but still he felt damned just as she looked at him in a way he hadn’t ever seen her look at anyone before. She was waiting for him to say something.

Say something.

She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t done anything but stare at him, but he was suddenly twelve again. Angus Tully, with his hair that was just beginning to have out of place curls, walking into his parent’s room at two in the morning. He woke his mother up, who gasped when he touched her. After she calmed down, she was appalled to see him crying.

It wasn’t a bad dream, it wasn’t because something had happened to him at school; he didn’t know what was making him weep, but he was doing it anyway.

He could barely say anything, he babbled like a baby learning to talk, and all he could get out was “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

His mother tried her best (he liked to himself that), but she could only say “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

Didn’t she hear him? He didn’t know.

Even now, at seventeen, he didn’t know what to say to her.

“I don’t know how you can use that.” He glanced at the eyelash curler.

She furrowed her brow upon the change in tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it looks like a torture device.”

Scoffing, she looked back to the mirror and curled the lashes of her other eyes. “You’ve just never tried it before.”

“And I never will.”

She looked back at him once she was finished. “Are you scared?”

“No, I just don’t see the reason to.”

She shrugged. “I think you’re scared.”

“Am not.”

“Okay, then let me put mascara on you.”

He scoffed. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” She shook her head. “If you’re not scared then you’ll let me stick something in your eye. You don’t have to wear it to the party, but I think it’d be fun.”

Angus was at a loss. She was a good actress, so how was he supposed to know she wasn’t messing with him? Well…he didn’t; he just had to trust her. To be fair, he had been weird around her this whole time, so…

“I’m not doing the torture device, just the makeup.”

Her face lit up, and she took the mascara out of her bag, setting everything else inside of it. “Get over here.”

He followed, leaning against the wall by the mirror. Suddenly, as he stood in front of her, he was nervous. It wasn’t the first time he was (whether that was because of her wit, her confidence, or even her meanness), it was because it was just her.

“How uh,” he stammered. “how are we doing this.”

“Lean down first of all, fuck why are you so tall?”

“Not one of my favorite qualities.” He joked, pressing his hand against the sink for support as he lowered himself slightly.

“Meh,” she shrugged, unscrewing the cap of her mascara. “girls usually like tall guys.”

His heart flipped. “Yeah?”

She froze momentarily before continuing. “I guess. Elise told me.”

“Right.”

“Okay, close your eyes. You’re going to want to open them when you feel something touch your eye, but I promise you, you don’t want to do that.”

“Sounds good.” He closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling of discomfort. He could feel the heat of herself hover around him, but the pain from the mascara never came.

He heard her sigh. “This isn’t going to work.”

Angus opened his eyes when he felt her draw away, and he saw her sit on one of the beds. She titled her head. “Come here.”

He didn’t know if his heart was still or was going to beat itself out of his chest. Obviously, he sat by her before but…he had to be closer to her. Angus did his best not to make a big deal of it, but he felt like he was almost watching himself outside of his body as he sat beside her and closed his eyes.

“Do you want to know what my mom called me when I was younger?”

She was trying to distract him and he knew it. “Sure.”

“Ever heard of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

He tensed but soon relax when she rested her hand on his cheek; it felt like she was burning him, but the way that he felt whenever he had a fever. Somehow…it was comforting. Breathing shallowly, he answered. “Greek? Kind of.”

“Well,” he cowered away a little when he felt something brush his eyelashes but kept calm as she continued. “where my father loved Roman history and mythology, my mother was more into the Greeks. They’d go back and forth debating on which was more influential, and that was more so how they became friends. She…before I was born, she talked about naming me Eurydice because it was her favorite story. My dad was obviously against it, so that was a no. So, that’s when she’d just call me Eurydice at home a lot, just to piss him off which was funny.”

Angus hummed, paying attention to her words, but having to bite his tongue to keep himself grounded from losing himself within her touch. “What’s she like in the story?”

“Not much to her.” She moved onto his other eye. “Well, what it gives us anyway. I always had my mom tell me their story, and Eurydice kept changing. It was always who I was like growing up.”

“Really?”

“Really. I was shy around the other kids when she first told me-.”

“-You, shy?”

“Shut up, I’ll mess up your eye if you make me laugh. But yeah, so Eurydice was quiet and shyer. Then, when I’m like nine, I’m a bit more outspoken, angrier even, so she became that.”

He didn’t move his head, scared that he’d mess her up. It was then, after she stopped speaking, he could feel her breath on his face. Her hand was still warm against his cheek, and he found himself leaning into it more and more. He had not felt this sense of peace since…he couldn’t recall.

“Done.”

With one word from her, she took her hand away and he opened his eyes. She was still so close to him, and while he saw her smiling at what he assumed had been her work, it was him staring at her that made it drop. Still, she didn’t look frightened nor upset, she was just…looking at him.

The moment his eyes dropped to her lips for only a second, it was all over.

He’d thought about it, of course. He wanted to. But…like with everything about her, he froze.

She didn’t.

“You…” She stood up from the bed, straightening the skirt of her dress. “you should probably wash that off after taking a look.”

Angus didn’t have time to respond before she grabbed her makeup bag and ran off. He just sat there, trying to process if he was waiting to wake up from a dream, or if it had been in fact real.

When nothing happened, he sighed heavily, getting up and walking towards the mirror. His eyes looked different, and he felt weird. He could not tell if it was from the makeup, her, or both. Still, what he did know, was that he made a fool of himself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #paul hunham #the holdovers #mary lamb #Youtube

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just-dreaming-marvel · 8 days ago

Text

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 37

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,220ish

Summary: You and Logan return to the mansion to continue with your lives.

Warning(s): return of a dead character, character(s) death, coma, couple fights

Notes: This chapter is set up a little differently, as there's gonna be a lot of time jumps. (It will cover 2015 to 2026.) This is definitely a choppy chapter... Hopefully, it's not too terrible.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

2015

The mansion was exactly the same as you and Logan drove up to it. Your fingers were anxiously tapping against your knee as Logan pulled up to the front. After parking the car, he reached over and took your hand.

“We can turn around,” he offered. “It’s not too late.”

You looked at Logan. “Do you not want to do this?”

He sighed. “I think that twelve years is a long time, and none of us exactly stayed in touch.” He brought your hand up and kissed the back of it. “But, I think we need to try to be here.”

“Thank you. You know I—“

You cut yourself off as a familiar wheelchair wheeled out of the mansion. Your full action fell on it as you gasped. There, waiting, was Charles. He was alive and seemingly well.

“Fucking hell,” Logan muttered.

Still in shock, the two of you exited the truck and stepped around it.

“Charles?” You questioned.

“I knew you two would eventually return,” Charles said with a smile. “Welcome back.”

“How…?” Logan questioned, coming up to your side to take your hand.

“It’s a long story. Why don’t the two of you come inside? Everyone will be happy to see you.”

~~~

Charles had been right; your friends were happy to see you and Logan. Ororo, Hank, Bobby, Marie, and Kitty were all there in Charles’ office to greet you. Apparently, they had been thinking about reaching out when Charles informed them that you were already on your way. Yes, it was a bit awkward; so much time had passed since you all were last together.

During your reunion, Charles explained how he survived his supposed death by Jean’s hands. His consciousness had jumped into another body that was in a pro-mutant doctor’s care. The doctor and Charles found several mutants that worked for years to piece Charles’ body back together. Charles came back to the mansion about seven years ago, immediately resuming his role as headmaster.

Bobby and Marie shared the news that they were married, while Hank told you that he had retired from politics and was now back being a full-time teacher. Ororo was still teaching with Bobby, Marie, Kitty, and Colossus also teaching now.

“If you would like, we have positions for both of you,” Charles added.

You looked at Logan. You could see that he was hesitant. “We would like to stay a while,” you responded. “Could we get back to you on that?”

“Of course,” Charles smiled. “Your rooms are still available. Though I suspect you will only be needing one.”

“Thanks,” Logan muttered. “I’ll go get our things.” He kissed your head before leaving.

You sighed, starting to feel like you were forcing this upon Logan. Charles rolled up to you and took your hand.

“Why don’t we go talk?” He suggested. “Just us two?”

“Okay, lead the way,” you said.

You followed Charles out to the garden, to a bench you once frequented often. You sat as Charles moved his chair in front of you.

“He won’t run,” Charles stated, clearly reading your mind.

“I know that. I just… I was ready to come back, but maybe he wasn’t.”

“Logan’s ready. It’s just a lot at once.”

You nodded in agreement, glancing around. “It doesn’t seem like you have as many students as you once did.”

Charles sighed. “That is true. Unfortunately, fewer and fewer people are showing mutant abilities. Hank has done some research on it. He thinks something is being put in the food that prevents the x-gene from being passed on.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yes, but it is something we cannot control. So we will do the best with what we have.”

“I’ve missed you, Charles.”

“I missed you, too. It seems like the time alone with Logan has done the two of you well.”

“Yes, it was much needed.”

“You should go rest. Unpack. I’m glad that you are back, Y/N.”

“Me, too.”

~~~

You found Logan in your old room, standing at the window. You walked over and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his back.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“What?” Logan questioned, turning his head to try to look at you.

“I’m sorry if I forced you to come back.”

“You didn’t force me to do anything. I wanted to come back.”

“Are you sure?”

He grabbed your hands and pulled them off of him before tugging you around to his front. “I’m sure. You know how I get around people. I’ll be fine. Just give me some time.”

“Okay.”

He pulled you closer. And allowed his forehead to rest against you. “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course. I know you, too.” You kissed his nose. “Wanna see how squeaky the bed got?”

Logan smiled before tossing you onto the bed.

~~~

2019

Logan looked into the mirror with a scowl. His graying hair was laughing at him, showing signs that he had begun to age. There was also the fact that he had begun to feel more aches and pains in his joints. He was doing his best to hide it from you. He didn’t want you to worry.

You leaned against the bathroom doorway, arms folded. You have been noticing that Logan was grunting and groaning with certain movements and spending more time glaring at himself in the mirror than usual. He was graying, and while you found it attractive, you knew that Logan hated it.

“Stop that,” you finally spoke up. His eyes snapped to yours in the reflection.

“Stop what?” He mumbled.

“You know what.” You pushed yourself off the doorway and pulled his arm. He slowly turned to face you. You gave him a smile as your hands cupped his cheeks. Your thumbs moved across his greying facial hair. “Stop getting mad at your body.”

“I shouldn’t be greying.”

“Everyone grows old, Logan. Even you.”

“Yes, but… what if… well… do you… I mean—“

You pulled him in for a kiss, shutting him up for a moment. “You’re still sexy to me, honey. Always will be.”

“But—“

“Stop it. When my grays and wrinkles become more apparent, are you going to change how you see me?”

Logan’s hands found your waist and tugged you closer. “No… you’d still be gorgeous.”

“Okay. Well, it’s the same with you… You are handsome.” You pulled him in for another quick kiss. “If you need another reminder, please come to me.”

“Okay.”

“What else is on your mind?”

“Nothing. I’m good.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Logan,” you sighed. “I know you. What’s going on?”

“Just tired. Overworking.”

“Maybe less training exercises then.”

“If you’re in the Danger Room, I’m in the Danger Room. You know the rule.”

“Yes, but—“

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” He pecked your lips. “Thank you for the pick me up. I’ve got a meeting with Hank I’ve got to get to.” He let go and slipped past you.

“Meet me for lunch?”

“Always.”

~~~

“I wish I had better news for you, Logan,” Hank said. The two were sitting in the lab alone, with Logan’s test results on the screen.

“So, you’re telling me that the adamantium is poisoning me?” Logan wanted to clarify.

“Unfortunately. It wasn’t meant to be grafted to anyone like this. The only reason you’ve survived this long is because of your healing mutation. But I guess it’s even caught up with that.”

“How much time do I have?”

“There’s no telling. You have already complained of aching joints and the graying of your hair as well as the occasional slow healing. I guess that all of that will only get worse, but your mutation is still fighting against it. You could have a good ten to twenty years. Maybe even thirty if you take it easy.”

Logan huffed, leaning forward as he ran a hand down his face. “Is there anything you can do?”

“Nothing that would last long enough with your mutation… You should tell Y/N.”

“No,” Logan shook his head, sitting up. “I can’t do that.”

“Logan—“

“No one is telling anyone about this! Got it? Especially Y/N. I can’t have her worrying about me… Not yet.”

“You’ll want to tell her sooner or later. She’s known you for a long time. She’ll be able to figure it out.”

“Not if I have any say.”

~~~

2024

As the years passed, Logan continued to keep the secret from you. You kept questioning him as his movements and healing continued to slow. You never got a straight answer, which was frustrating. But you knew that Logan would tell you eventually. Well, at least you hoped.

Logan grunted as he fixed his tie, annoyed that his shoulders were bugging him.

“You okay, honey?” You asked from the bathroom as you finished getting ready.

“I’m fine,” he replied.

You peeked your head out, unbelieving. “You sure?” You noticed how he was struggling with his tie. “Here.” You walked over and took the tie from him. “I got you.” He huffed as he dropped his hands and let you take over. “There.” You straightened and patted his chest. “All done.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Look like a homeless man.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry. I’d love you anyway.”

“Good.” Logan pulled you in for a kiss. “You ready to go?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Take me on a date, handsome.”

~~~

2026

“You need to see Hank,” you were fed up.

“I’m fine,” Logan retorted.

The two of you were standing in your shared room. You were by the door, blocking it, as Logan was across the room near the window.

“Bullshit!” You exclaimed. “You’re clearly in pain, and you’re not healing the same. You’re scarring. You don’t scar.”

“I do now. It’s no big deal.”

“Yes, it is, Logan! You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“Or what?”

The challenge silenced the room. The two of you glared at each other as the tension thickened.

“What do you even want me to say to that?” You questioned. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing! I want you to do nothing,” he spat. “Trust that I’m fine.”

“But you’re not! And it’s killing me to see you like this and not know how to help you. I can’t stand by and watch you kill yourself.”

“Then don’t.”

“What?”

“Then don’t stand by and watch.”

“Do you… Are you telling me to walk away? Are you serious?”

“If you can’t handle it, then—“

“I don’t even know what’s going on! Logan,” you took a step forward, “please, honey, please be honest with me. I want to help. I want— AH!”

A high-pitched noise rang out, piercing your brain. You froze, unable to move. Logan, though it was extremely painful, could move. The mansion was rumbling. Something was going on, and Logan needed to figure out what. Each movement he made felt like he was fighting against a strong current. Logan reached you, only to not be able to get any words out to call to you. He groaned as he silently promised to come back to you and headed out in the hallway.

Everyone else in the mansion was in the same situation as you. As he headed downstairs, the force pushing against him grew stronger. His claws released slowly as he used them to anchor himself against the wall as he continued downward. Once he was on the main level, he used his claws to crawl his way to where he could feel the force coming from: Charles’ office.

From the doorway, Logan could see Charles writhing in his wheelchair, groaning in pain. The force was so strong that it took Logan over ten minutes to get to Charles. Logan gripped Charles’ legs, trying to do what he could to gather Charles’ focus. But there was nothing he could do.

Charles’ seizure lasted exactly twenty-four minutes. As soon as it stopped, Logan was rushing back to you, ignoring all the bodies that lay around the floor. When he got back to the bedroom, you had collapsed to the floor. Logan fell to the ground and pulled you into him.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” he called, “wake up.” His heart was sinking as blood trailed from your nose and ears. “Baby, please.” He could hear your heartbeat, but there was no sign of consciousness. “Wake up… wake up.”

~~~

Logan stood by your bed at the hospital, not willing to sit down or touch you. All the information was rotating through his mind.

Charles had a seizure.

Charles has Alzheimer’s.

Hank, Ororo, Bobby, Marie, Kitty, and two others died due to the incident.

Charles’ abilities stretched far beyond the mansion, causing over 600 other injuries.

You were in a coma with no sign of waking up anytime soon.

Charles’ mind was now labeled a weapon of mass destruction, and the government was coming to detain him.

Logan wasn’t about to let that happen. His hands were trembling as he took your hand, his other hand stroking your face.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I have to protect Charles… I have to protect you… I hope that you’ll forgive me one day.” He held a kiss to your forehead as he closed his eyes, letting a tear slip down. “I love you so much, baby. I’m so sorry.”

Then Logan left… without even a second glance.

next chapter >

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thecousinsdangereux · 4 months ago

Note

i just recently discovered your soulmate au and i loves it so much. so incredibly intriguing and well written and damn is it hot 🔥 thanks so much for sharing with us. in your mind, does it have a happy ending for them?

also wanted to ask if you'll be checking in to see the big warrior nun announcement coming tomorrow?

Ahhhh thank you! This ask is kind of tragic now given how everything with Warrior Nun ended up going, but I thought I'd use it as a way to share my ideas for the rest of a beggar in the morning, if anyone is interested in learning how it was going to go. Long story short, it was going to have a happy ending. :)

Here's a full outline for what I had in mind for the second half of the fic. Under the cut because it's very detailed in the parts that I'd started writing. Also in case anyone cares about spoilers? At the moment, I don't plan on finishing this fic, but I do plan on returning to writing in general, so guess there's a non-zero chance that I could come back to it. Stranger things have happened.

Beatrice keeps looking for the recipient of the Letter she's been trying to deliver and starts taking trips out into the countryside. She takes Ava's advice and takes to enjoying the journey - stopping into small cafes for lunch rather than eating in the car, taking the long way when it means she can enjoy a new view, etc.

During one of these side quests, she's told about a man who lives way off in the middle of nowhere who has the last name of Reis (the last name of the Letter recipient: Lara Reis), and she tracks him down. He had a sister who had a child with someone who was not her Match. I wanted to go more into what this looks like (and how the church is still anti-abortion in this world, because they think this could potentially ruin a future match, cue eye-roll) but in this case, the woman was basically run out of town. The man directs Beatrice to an orphanage where the child was raised.

This trail eventually goes cold because the orphanage has no records of the girl. They only know she left when she became of age.

The end of chapter six is basically Beatrice being frustrated and taking some 'advice' from Lilith to find someone to fuck hfkjshlk so she goes to the bar and ohhh nooo Ava is working that night, filling in for someone. Ava gets jealous, Bea does some shots, and it's basically a rehash of the lemon drop scene from the show, but hornier. Eventually, they make out, and decide to be friends with benefits.

Chapter 7 was honestly just going to be porn. lol. It's actually some of the first stuff I wrote for this fic - just a page of porn. Beggar came out of a Secret Santa fic exchange, and my friend Alex asked for lots of sex and a soulmate au. So... Chapter 7 was the payoff (part 2). Here's a few disjointed scenes, in case anyone is interested in reading some unedited very E-rated stuff.

A few months go by and all the nuns visit Beatrice for her bday and they're like huh so what's going on here and Beatrice has to pretend that it's not that serious with Ava (lol). I also wanted to do a conversation between Shannon and Beatrice where Shannon talks about the whole Mary thing and loving someone against the will of god (or at the very least, in the very gray areas).

The end of chapter seven is Ava finally talking about her past, which is that Ava doesn't remember hers. She woke up in a hospital without her memories and then spent the next decade traveling around trying to find something that felt like home.

In chapter 8, a lot of time passes, and the fucking continues. Beatrice is kind of losing it, poor girl.

I hadn't exactly decided what was going to happen next, but Ava was going to overstep in some way (or in some perceived way) and Beatrice was going to panic. Either Beatrice was going to have a brief thought about being in love, they were going to have reallyyyy soft sex, or something like that, but either way, Beatrice was going to have to admit she has deeper feelings for Ava than what's allowed allowed, so she goes back to Spain and ignores Ava's texts/calls/etc.

Eventually she realizes she owes Ava closure. She comes back and kind of explains why she's reacted the way she has. She gets more into why she joined the church and it's not for God or the Church itself, but because she does genuinely believe that love itself is holy. She admits she's falling in love with Ava, but she can't break her vows. She believes giving into her feelings would be putting herself above the whole history of love... the sanctity of the entire universe... and to be that selfish would be monstrous.

There's a callback to their early game of three questions, and how Ava still owes Beatrice one answer. Beatrice nearly asks if Ava loves her, but pulls back because she's scared of the answer. They basically break up, but Ava tells Bea to let her know when she's ready to ask her last question.

Beatrice takes it HARD. She buries herself in her work and starts visiting hospitals in various towns. She finds a Spanish doctor and he recognizes the number (or rather, the system behind the number) that is on Letter Beatrice is still trying to deliver. He tells Beatrice she's not looking for a hospital in Portugal, but rather in Spain - one in a small town in Andalusia. He mentions a patient who was in a coma, who woke up without her memories.

At this point, Beatrice obviously knows and she flies to Spain in daze. She visits the hospital, gives them the number, and asks for the name of the patient. When they'd brought the girl in, no one knew where she came from, she didn't have an ID, memories, etc. Nothing except for an old receipt from a restaurant in Portugal. ("Beatrice braces herself for what she already knows, but doesn't want to face.") The nurse at the hospital tells her they used a generic Portuguese name for the girl and it stuck: Ava Silva.

Beatrice visits Cat's Cradle because what else is she supposed to do? How is she supposed to deliver this Letter to Ava, who she's obviously in love with. She talks with Mary and we get the other side of the whole Mary/Shannon thing, and Mary is kind of like, okay, the Letters matter but they don't Matter. Beatrice asks Mary what she would do if she got a Letter (since Mary isn't a nun and could get one, but Shannon never could) and Mary basically says she would throw it away without opening it because she wouldn't want to give Shannon a reason to go self-sacrificial.

Of course, Beatrice doesn't really think this is her call to make. She's going to deliver Ava's Letter. There's this whole scene of her very dramatically and angstily getting ready for the delivery in the Official White Habit, then walking through the town she's come to associate so completely with Ava. And chapter 9 ends.

When Beatrice walks through the doors of the bar, Ava looks up, but doesn't seem surprised, even says 'oh, finally', which is pretty much the last thing that Beatrice expected, but then again, maybe it should have been the first, because Ava is always surprising her, and shouldn't she expect it by now? She asks Ava if she'd known that she was the person Beatrice had been trying to deliver to all along and Ava looks confused at this, like she hadn't considered that at all. "It's not that. I just knew my Letter would be coming because I'd already met you."

Beatrice is like, no no no. That's not how this works. It can't be me. I've been carrying this Letter with me this whole time - before I met you - and the Letters are only sent to a person when they've met their soulmate. And obviously, Beatrice is a nun and can't have a soulmate, etc. etc.

And then Ava says something like this: “Maybe every once in a while, God -- or the universe or whatever it is -- knows that it’ll be really hard to make two people meet organically, so it fudges the rules a little bit. Makes one girl a nun, makes another one hard to find, and sets up the dominos really early on."

And when Beatrice says she's being ridiculous/it's impossible, she says, "I know what’s in that letter. It’s you. I don’t need to open it to know it's you." and "Maybe it’s like some people say and god arranged it all. Fine. Then god chose me for you. Simple. He made me in this exact way, down to my hands and toes and whatever, so that I was perfect for his favorite creation in all of the universe. Because that has to be you."

And: "Or maybe it’s like what those other people say. You know - the past lives reincarnation stuff. Fine, then in our first lives we fell in love and then I found you in the second and third and the five hundredth. I found you and I picked you and I wanted you every time. Or okay, fine, maybe it’s what the the pseudo science people say. Even if those guys are right, I still know. It’s you because at the very start of the universe - at the very beginning of everything - we were the first two bits of something. The first two tiny little sparks. One of those was you and one of them was me. And even when we split off into a million trillion billion infinite pieces, the core of one was you. And the other one was me."

And: "In every religion or in any theory, the world exists so that I can find you again, and the world will do whatever it takes - bend the rules in whatever way - to make sure that at the exact right time, we would meet. And maybe it wasn’t perfect - maybe it was stupid hard for us to get to this point - maybe there was an easier way to make it happen - but I don’t care. Because it worked and I found you and I fell in love with you and I would do anything for that. So yeah. This Letter is telling me that I’m for you. That’s easy. It’s not faith. It’s just a fact.

And: "Besides, whatever’s on that paper? It’s going to be you. If it’s a picture of a butterfly, then it’s going to be you because of that time we went to the dam and one landed on your hand and you said “isn’t the world beautiful?” and that’s when I knew I loved you for the very first time. If it’s the notes to the first bar in At Last, then it’s you, because we used to play it all the time in the bar and I always thought it was fucking stupid to think you'd know like that right away, before everything, but it was the song that played in my head anyways when you walked in the bar that first night. There she is, I sort of thought, a dream that I can speak to."

"It could be any single word or phrase or letter and it would be you, because I love you and I love you so much I see you in every part of this entire world. I love you and I want to keep you with me always, and so you’re always there in my thoughts, slipping over and into everything else and I love it. It makes me love everything I see a little bit more, because it reminds me of you. It makes the world more beautiful."

"So, no offense, but I don't really give a fuck about the Letter. I already know it's going to be you. But I think you need to see it. So you know you’re not as selfish as you think you are."

And Beatrice admits that she wants to be with Ava anyways. Even if it makes her selfish. (Even if it makes her heretical.) Love is holy and what she feels for Ava is holy too, even if it's a sort of holy no one else will ever understand.

I went back and forth about whether they actually SHOULD open the Letter. lol. But I think I eventually settled on that they should, and that when Ava does open it, it's a blank page with like, 7 little dots and Beatrice is like??????????????? But Ava recognizes it instantly and it's the freckles on Beatrice's cheeks, the ones she's always tracing, and she does that again, following the ink on the paper.

Beatrice had been ready to give up her religion for Ava, so getting to keep it, maybe, suddenly is a LOT. She can't quite believe something divine would do something like this for her. But maybe she can believe that something divine would do something like this for Ava.

Later, I wanted Beatrice to have a conversation with Mother Superion. I thought it would be interesting to get into the philosophical bits of it. To debate if Ava could actually be right in her ideas about how this could be, and still fit into what they know about god/Letters/religion. I liked the idea of the conversation ending with neither of them really knowing, and Mother S being like, look girl, you'll never know for sure, but that sounds like faith to me. And Beatrice says no, no this is different, capital F Faith is for the divine. This is just trusting that Ava isn't lying about the freckles thing, or won't get tired of me, or won't find someone else. Etc etc etc. because it's panicking time for Beatrice, suddenly. And Mother Superion just raps her knuckles sort of in the most gentle way she can manage and says "That's love, Beatrice." in the way way someone might say "That's pussy, babe."

Beatrice does leave the church (though she eventually goes back to 'consulting' kind of like Mary). And when she does actually physically leave as well, Ava is waiting outside on a bench. Beatrice asks why she didn't just come inside, and she says something about being a little afraid of churches these days. She did steal god's favorite, after all.

And then they walk off into the sunset, with Beatrice being like wait a second, I thought you said this was all God's plan. And Ava shrugs and says that she would never willingly give Beatrice up, so god might come to her senses and change her mind.

I was going to end it there, but I did consider doing an epilogue as well. Early on in planning I had this idea where, years later, all the nuns regularly come over to the Silvas (because Ava does keep her 'second' name, though she does start to learn more about the Reis family, and meets her Uncle - the dude Beatrice learned about the orphanage from). And on one of these occasions, the nuns are all in white, and they're delivering Beatrice's Letter, which is addressed to Beatrice Silva. In the end, I decided against this, because I liked leaving it more open-ended, but nothing had been set in stone at this point, of course.

So yeah, that was going to be a beggar in the morning. lol. I plotted most of it out before I even started writing, because it wasn't the sort of story you could make up as you went and still tell it well. And I did want to tell the story well! There's a part of me that's sad that I wasn't able to, but I do think it was worth writing what I did. I really loved seeing people realize that Lara was Ava, even as early as chapter 5! And I also loved people coming up with theories about how Avatrice would be endgame. Some of them were honestly really good and maybe better than mine fhdskjhfd I had one person be like PLEASE let Ava's Letter be for someone else so they can metaphorically spit in god's face and honestly that was valid.

I don't know if anyone is going to bother to read this very, very long reply to an ask that doesn't actually ask for any of this, but it honestly just feels nice to put all these ideas together and 'complete' the story. Even if I've done it in the most half-assed way possible I am so sorry fhadskjlfhldsj

#sorry to use your ask from forever ago to go off about the planned ending of this fic #I had to combine notes from my phone google doc and physical journal to find all these details again so it was like I was rediscovering #my own fic #me at me as I was reading back: wow this shit is cheesy you are a huge loser #warrior nun #writing #a beggar in the morning

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user2772636 · 11 months ago

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Douzième Fille Masterlist

12th Girl Masterlist

××《☆》××

Joseph Descamps x Reader

You, as the 12th girl of Voltaire High, must face the new opportunities given by a school that is a mix of boys and girls. Handle your feelings towards a high school bully, make friendships that will last, and study hard enough to be accepted by society.

××《☆》××

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Chapter one: Mary Jane's - Transferring schools after moving places for the 6th time, a new opportunity is given; a school for both boys and girls. With a new experience to be dealt with, will you survive a blooming rivalry with one of your classmates, a socialising society, and freshman year? Welcome to Voltaire High.

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Chapter two: My eye only - After the incident, things take a turn for both better and worse. All with that, gym class has turned the school into a zoo. When people can't take their eyes off of what's yours, you take their ability to see. What an ironic thing for a one-eyed boy to set his mind to.

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Chapter three: He is half my soul, as the poets say - Having to be in pairs for a group project, two people with mixed feelings work together to create a presentation. Going into eachothers houses is easy until a certain cat wants to play cupid. Feelings erupt, and miscommunication has to be endured. A soccer game in the rain might prove that Descamps listens more than he should.

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Chapter four: Flashy Magazines - Experimenting is bound to give you attention. Magazines are trending, and not just in the women's department. A one-eyed boy who has recently been caught with something vulgar has respect for women. How surprising.

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Chapter five: You Know Where To Find Me, and I Know Where To Look - Callum returns, and Joseph is not so happy about it. A rainy night with forgotten gashes makes you think about a certain "friendship." Eavesdropping hurts a lot more than you thought.

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Chapter six: Mischief Managed - A new task; Kidnap some frogs and a film to get an hour study session with the Annick Sabiani. Things are still unstable with Joseph. Maybe Callum could help. Your fear of hopping creatures makes a boy forget what went wrong.

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Chapter seven: Salvatore - You can't deny beauty, so don't do it at all. Some time is spent at the beach with a boy you're trying to quietly reject. Begging, though pitying, looks good on our one-eyed boy.

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Chapter eight: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph - Some chances are taken too late. You only realise what you've lost when you're starting to lose them. Goodbyes are hard, especially when you've just started.

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Chapter nine: You Belong To Me - Years have gone by. It's now 1971. You've peaked in your career. You've become well known. But what happens when an all too familiar face returns, now more drawn to you?

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Chapter ten: I love you - Looking back at the day you first met, you realise how far you've gone. You appreciate the little things in life and some little people, too.

#joseph descamps #joseph descamps x reader #mixte1963 #michèle magnan #simone palladino #jean pierre magnan #alain laubrac #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #enemies to lovers #slow burn

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greensagephase · 1 year ago

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Nonviolent Communication - Part Seven

***Beautiful sketches for this chapter were made by two lovely artists and I'm ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE with them!! Please go and show them some love!! They captured Miguel so BEAUTIFULLY!! You can find them here and here. Thank you so much guys, I'm so in love with them and will always cherish them 🥹❤️ @sunsetdoodler @lauraolar14 ***

Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Mr. and Mrs. Morales ask you to do something for them.

Word Count: 11,729 (I'm just gonna shut up about the word count at this point and just say I'm sorry.)

Warnings: Some readers may not recognize some food items mentioned but it's not too important for the plot, however, a brief description is included at the end if you're interested; mention of reader's family and their Christmas days (good memories); Miguel (I won't elaborate)

Music inspo while writing: (I'm obsessed with the ATSV album so much that Metro Boomin has been my #1 artist on Spotify for months lmao)

"Link Up" - Metro Boomin, Don Toliver, Wizkid, BEAM, Toian

"Self Love" - Metro Boomin, Coi Leray

"Hummingbird" - Metro Boomin, James Blake

"Calling" - Metro Boomin, Swae Lee, NAV, A Boogie Wit da Hoodie

"Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, A$AP Rocky, 21 Savage (you already know)

Part Seven

You returned to your apartment after Miguel showed you his ofrenda. You didn’t sleep. The candy and coffee Miguel gave you kept you up and so you resumed your chores, but your mind was elsewhere. It was occupied. By Miguel, who smiled at you that night. You couldn’t and won’t forget the sight of it. It’s branded into your brain forever. Even when you eventually found yourself in bed under your warm sheets that night, you laid there and stared at the ceiling.

He smiled at you. It was small but it was a smile. He showed you his ofrenda and shared food with you. You tossed and turned that night thinking that maybe… it was safe to assume you’re friends with Miguel. You couldn’t help but wonder if he thought the same about you though. You eventually decided that either way, you’re happy he has shared those moments with you.

There was a shift between the two of you, of course. It was like a door opened. A door that Miguel himself unlocked and opened for you to walk through. And he had in a sense, as that night he wished, for the first time, that you would cross his boundary lines by asking questions and sharing your thoughts with him.

As the days go on, you continue to spend time with him on missions, before meetings, and of course, when you organize his lab. You notice Lyla starts to involve him more in conversations when you’re there. He surprisingly adds to the conversation sometimes. He still doesn’t want to intrude, especially when he knows Lyla loves talking to you. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t pay more attention now though.

You’re also surprised when the following week after Dia de los Muertos, Lyla offers you snacks, mentioning that Miguel keeps candy in a hidden cabinet. He adds that you’re welcome to grab any. You don’t fail to notice that the cabinet contains the candy from that night, specifically the ones you enjoyed the most. What you don’t know is that no one else was informed about this candy cabinet.

The holidays quickly arrive. You spend Thanksgiving Day at Peter’s universe with Mary Jane, Mayday, and the rest of your friend group. For the first time in three years, you celebrate and feel the holiday spirit. With each passing day, you feel lighter. That feeling of moving forward grows each day.

As the days go by, the beautiful colors of autumn begin to fade. The leaves part ways with the trees with the promise that new ones will sprout in the spring. The days and nights are colder. The city is covered in snow. Christmas trees are displayed behind condensed windows. Lively Christmas music fills your ears almost everywhere you go when you go out on errands.

As always, the month of December flies by and suddenly you find yourself on Miles’s rooftop surrounded by his neighbors, friends, and family. It’s Christmas Eve and the building is having its annual party, to which you were invited by the Morales family.

You met Miles’s parents a few months ago, almost immediately after joining the Spider Society. According to Miles, he revealed his secret to them shortly after saving his dad from dying. The Morales not only know about Miles’s Spider-Man identity but also about the multiverse now. Due to that, Miles was able to introduce his friends to his parents, so they know everyone in Miles’s friend group. Once you were adopted by the group, you were no exception. You were introduced right away, and Miles’s parents took a liking to you quickly, which is how you found yourself invited to this party and other events in the past, including simple family dinners.

You’ve been here for over two hours now and have spent much of that time socializing both with your friends and Miles’s neighbors, who all seem curious about you and the rest of the group. You smile as you think of the many times you’ve had to say that you’re Miles’s mentor from school each time someone asks who you are. Of course, attending the party meant that all of you had to come up with excuses to avoid raising suspicions. Gwen is Miles’s girlfriend, but she lives outside of the city. Pav is a friend from school and you’re a school mentor. At least you guys had it simple and didn’t have to be as creative as Noir, who has spent much of his time up in the water tower hiding for obvious reasons with Peter Porker.

You lean over the rooftop’s parapet on your own in a less crowded section, trying to take a little break from so much socializing. You stare out at Miles’s neighborhood, listening to the music the DJ, who you were also introduced to, plays. He’s been playing some Christmas music here and there, mixed with other upbeat songs for the party. You hear the chatter and laughter. Children run in groups, excited about opening gifts soon. The city is covered in snow, and you heard from one of Miles’s aunts that a white Christmas is expected. You snuggle into your coat as you feel a breeze, thinking.

You can’t help but think about Peter. In a few months it’ll be four years since his death. You sigh. Time has really flown by. As your eyes scan the city, landing on other rooftops with people celebrating, you think about the first holidays without him. There were no decorations put out. No food was cooked. No parties or dinners were held or attended. You woke up on Christmas Day like it was any other day as you had already ended your previous friendships. There was no Peter waking you up with a grin telling you breakfast was ready, using that as an excuse to get you to go to the living room so you could start opening his gifts.

On New Years, you slept through it as the rest of the city celebrated the arrival of another year. For you, it was just the beginning of the first full year without Peter.

With each year, you’ve slowly put some decorations here and there but until this year, you hadn’t put your Christmas tree up. You smile as you think of it now. You managed to do that this year. Yet another sign you’re moving in the right direction. And of course, being here now, that’s a sign of its own.

Even though you need a break from socializing, you look fondly over at your friends. The people that have turned into your little family. Yes, things have changed. Things are changing.

You have them, the Morales family, Jess… Miguel.

Your mind shifts to Miguel. You wonder what he’s doing now. What he did today. You saw him yesterday in passing as you were busy with missions that he wasn’t on. Then, there was an emergency at your universe just as there was an anomaly detected somewhere else, which he and other members handled. You meant to wish him happy holidays as he gave the Spider Society members today and tomorrow off but unfortunately you were unable to.

You feel your fingers graze your wrist, the one with your gizmo. You could send him a message, but you find the thought strange for some reason as you’ve never done that before. Maybe it would be weird, you think, but should you send Miguel a message and wish him a Merry Christmas regardless? You debate it as you look out into the city, your fingers grazing your wrist softly as you think of him.

“Y/N!”

You turn in surprise, feeling like you were caught doing something wrong. You drop your hand from your wrist and regain your composure as your eyes fall on Mr. and Mrs. Morales, who stand in front of you. They both look pleased to see you. You notice Mrs. Morales is holding two plates wrapped in aluminum foil while Captain Morales holds two cans of soda, but you don’t think much about it.

“Mrs. Morales, Captain Morales, hey,” you say with a smile, still feeling startled.

“Sorry if we scared you, mija,” Mrs. Morales says. That’s another thing. Even though the Morales aren’t that much older than you, Mrs. Morales uses the endearing “mija” and each time she uses it, you can’t help but feel comforted by this.

You smile and shake your head. “It’s okay. I was just – thinking.”

The couple nods, giving you a knowing look. “We know holidays can be difficult with loved ones gone,” Mrs. Morales says in a tender and understanding tone as they both know about Peter and your overall lack of family and friends in your universe.

You nod and keep your smile, knowing very well that you weren’t thinking of Peter just now but of Miguel. You feel a little guilty, but you were thinking about Peter earlier, so it counts, right?

“Yes… the last couple of years haven’t been easy but I’m in a different headspace now,” you say with a pause, meaning it. “Thank you for inviting me again, by the way. I know I’ve already said it, but it means a lot to me,” you tell them.

“No need to thank us again. You know you’re like family. We’re just glad you’re here tonight with all of them,” Captain Morales says, referring to your group of friends.

You smile brightly at the couple now. You tell them you’re thankful to be there and mean it. You had no other plans in your own universe, so that means you would’ve been home alone despite feeling the Christmas spirit this year. The Morales couple pulls you in for a hug after you tell them that and you can’t refuse it, as they’ve been nothing but kind to you over the last months.

“And don’t forget, you’re always welcome to come over for dinner. So, if you ever feel alone – just use your watch and come join us,” Mrs. Morales adds with a smile that brings you comfort. Again, they’re not that much older than you but their parental energy brings you a comfort you haven’t felt in a long time.

You give them a soft smile. “I know, thank you. I appreciate it, truly. It means so much to me,” you say with your tone full of sincerity, hoping that they understand how much it truly means to you.

“No need to thank us. As Jeff said, you’re part of the family now,” Mrs. Morales says, patting your shoulder in a motherly way. “We were also looking for you to ask for a favor.”

Captain Morales nods and you wonder what it could be. You wonder if it has to do with Miles.

“Yeah, of course! How may I help?” you ask, curiously.

Mrs. Morales lifts the plates and Captain Morales lifts the cans of soda. “Well… Miles and Gwen mentioned a little while ago that you and Miguel are close.”

“And we were wondering if you would mind taking him some food to his fancy tech universe,” Captain Morales adds as they both watch you with smiles, hoping you’ll say yes.

You stare at them with a smile as you process their words. Close. You and Miguel are close. And Miles and Gwen said that? Of course, Miguel and you have grown close, but it has been something behind closed doors. You can’t help but wonder how Miles and Gwen reached that conclusion. It’s not like you and Miguel are strolling into the cafeteria together to have lunch. All your interactions have been private so far, minus the meetings of course, but even then, those can’t be enough to show the closeness between you and Miguel. You briefly wonder if the rest of your friend group talk about it if Gwen and Miles found it important enough to mention. Or maybe it’s not that important, who knows with teenagers.

And on top of that, you can’t help but feel like Mrs. Morales emphasized the word “close.” It almost makes it sound like you’re close in a different way.

“Yeah, I guess you can say we’re kind of friends,” you say, trying to clear up any misconception they may have. You briefly look at your friends, who are still under the water tower all grouped together, wondering what they’ve seen or heard.

“Right. Friends! That’s great. You know Miguel could really use some friends because Miles says he’s still a little close off even after what happened, you know,” Captain Morales says a little too fast, giving his wife a look she returns. It’s a look you can’t decipher as they quickly mask it, but you know an entire conversation took place with that shared look.

“Well, you know that man is so closed off. Anyone who says they’re friends with him should be considered close. That’s what Miles and Gwen meant,” Mrs. Morales says with a smile, probably trying to reassure you about what they said. “But do you mind? We invited him but he didn’t show up and it’s Christmas Eve,” Mrs. Morales says with a look that you recognize. Miguel is most likely alone on Christmas Eve.

You nod softly, still smiling. “I’ll gladly take the food,” you reply.

Miles’s parents beam at you before they hand you the plates and soda cans.

“Thank you, mija!” Mrs. Morales says. “If you don’t mind… staying with him for a little while. At least while he eats,” she says quieter, and you nod.

“I was planning on it,” you answer, giving her a reassuring smile because you thought about it the moment they explained their request.

“I knew you would. And hey, if he wants more, just travel back with your fancy watch and get more. Oh, before I forget!” she says and turns around.

She heads to a table and from a large box pulls out two goody bags.

“Here. One for you and for him. Take them before the kids take them all,” she says, jokingly. You slip the soda cans into your coat’s pockets to receive the goody bags, which you also slip into your pockets. “Tell him the Morales family wishes him a Merry Christmas for us,” she says just as Captain Morales puts his arm around her, pulling her closer.

You nod and give them both a smile. “I’ll let him know. I’ll head out now, that way the food doesn’t get too cold,” you say as you can feel the food was freshly served out of their containers since the plates feel hot. “If they ask about me, let them know I’ll be back shortly, please,” you say, motioning to your friends.

“We’ll tell them! Thank you again. We’ll see you in a bit,” Captain Morales adds.

You tell them goodbye and thank them again for the invitation. You make your way down the fire escape stairs, careful not to slip on ice until you reach the ground. You walk for a bit, looking for a place to open your portal discreetly. As you look around, you have a sudden thought. Is Miguel at HQ? He gave today and tomorrow off but did he also take the day off? Or is he still there? You click on your gizmo.

“Lyla?” you say, in an empty alleyway.

It takes a few seconds before Lyla’s hologram appears above your gizmo.

“Y/N! Merry Christmas Eve.”

You smile at her. “Merry Christmas Eve, Lyla. Sorry to interrupt you but I was wondering. Is… Miguel at HQ?” you ask, and Lyla raises her eyebrows.

“No. He’s at his penthouse.”

Lyla’s answer makes you feel relieved. You had a picture in your mind of him in his lab alone. The vision alone made your heart ache.

“That’s good! Do you think you can ask him to meet me there? At HQ?” you ask.

Lyla frowns. “I don’t think so. He’s – busy,” she simply says.

“Oh. Well, the Morales family are sending him food and they asked me to take it to him,” you say, not knowing what to do now.

“Just go to his penthouse.”

You stare at Lyla in disbelief at her suggestion that you should go to his penthouse, feeling like that would be an intrusion on his personal space. You know he’s been to your apartment a few times, three to be exact, but you don’t mind. Miguel on the other hand, might not be too thrilled about you visiting his place.

“Can’t you just ask him to meet me there?” you ask softly.

“He’s busy. He can’t leave his penthouse. Look, I’ll just tell him, okay? I’m sure he’ll be fine with you showing up,” Lyla says, shrugging like this is no big deal.

You sigh. “I don’t think that’s - ” you start but get interrupted.

“I’m going to ask him right now. If I send you the coordinates to his penthouse, then you know you’re good to go, okay? Merry Christmas!” Lyla says, cheerfully throwing her arms in the air.

“Lyla!” you manage to say before her hologram disappears. You sigh again and stare at the buildings in front of you. Great.

Not even thirty seconds later, your gizmo shows a new notification. You bring your gizmo closer to your face.

Coordinates.

You stare at the buildings again. The food is going to grow cold if you continue to stand here but you can’t help but feel nervous suddenly. You sigh and try to shake it off. It’s fine. Lyla sent the coordinates, which means he’s okay with it. Right? Or did he feel pressured to let you show up? Your mind starts wandering. What if Lyla made it seem like you wanted to go straight to his penthouse and not meet up somewhere less personal, like HQ? Lyla may have done that, especially because she looked like she was in a rush, which makes you wonder why she was even in a rush. It’s Christmas Eve! You release a shaky breath and try to pull it together. It’s no big deal. You’ll apologize right away and explain that you wanted to meet in HQ instead. You nod, reassuring yourself and try to calm your nerves. You look around, making sure that there’s no one around. You click on your gizmo and follow the procedure to open a portal in a specific location within a dimension.

The portal opens, lighting up the alleyway. You take a deep breath before you enter it, leaving Miles’s universe behind and stepping into Nueva York. Or rather, into a living room.

For the first time, you’re the one that stares into an unknown living room. In the span of a few seconds, you take in the sight before you. Your vision is immediately met with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city and you notice the closest building to Miguel’s building is far away, granting him privacy. Your eyes take in the living room section of his penthouse, or at least what you can see now. It’s all very sleek and modern. Very Nueva York. In front of you there’s a square table with different remotes and tablets floating above it thanks to the portal, far more advanced than those in your universe. There’s also a grey couch facing you and a few feet from it, you spot stairs to its left, leading to the second floor of the penthouse. To your right, you feel heat coming from a fireplace.

For once, Miguel is the one watching a portal fade away in his penthouse. He hears the items fall back into place as he stares at your back.

“Y/N.”

You turn around slowly, feeling Miguel’s gaze. You find him a few feet behind you, behind another grey couch you were unaware was there until now. The kitchen and dining areas of his penthouse are behind him. Everything looks like you’d imagine on Earth-928 with an advanced society. You meet Miguel’s eyes as he stands there. In normal clothes.

Miguel is in normal clothes.

“Miguel, hey,” you finally say, feeling odd. You wonder if this is what Miguel felt when he showed up at your apartment on Peter’s birthday.

“Hey,” Miguel replies looking down at you before his eyes flicker to the plates in your hands.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” you say, giving him a smile. You can’t help but feel awkward.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” Miguel repeats softly, his eyes meeting yours again.

You stand there for a few seconds, staring at each other until you finally speak.

“I’m so sorry for bothering you. I asked Lyla if you could meet me at HQ and she said you were busy,” you explain, wanting to clear the air, still feeling shocked that Miguel is in normal clothes.

Miguel nods, pushing his hands into his pants’ pockets. You continue to hold his gaze as the image of him in normal clothes burns into your mind.

Miguel’s hair looks damp, as if he barely got out of the shower but it’s styled as always with curls framing some of his face. Instead of his suit, Miguel wears a dark grey, chunky cable knit sweater. The sleeves are pushed up his arms slightly, just enough that his wrists are visible. You notice he’s not wearing his gizmo, which is a strange sight on its own. To pair his dark grey sweater, Miguel wears black pants. You can’t help but think he looks so – cozy.

“She told me, but I couldn’t leave,” Miguel says, still watching you. He notices the way you’re trying very hard not to look at his clothes. He can’t blame you. In a few months, it’ll be a year since you joined the Spider Society and you’ve never seen him in anything else. “I was showering and I’m cooking,” he says quietly, and you nod.

“Oh. That’s nice,” you say, feeling happiness that Miguel is at home on Christmas Eve instead of at HQ working, on top of the fact that he’s in cozy clothes and cooking. You nod and then remember the whole reason you are here. You internally scold yourself for getting so distracted with being at his home and the sight of him in normal clothes. “Well, the reason I was trying to reach you was for this. The Morales family sent you food,” you say, lifting the plates higher. You can feel that the plates are still hot, thankfully.

Miguel looks a little surprised, but he nods. “Miles invited me to that, but I couldn’t go,” he admits, and you understand. You know that Peter and Mary Jane have been inviting him to their Friday dinners even before you were recruited into the Spider Society, but Miguel has never attended them.

“They noticed and wanted to send you some food. They wished you a Merry Christmas,” you say softly.

Miguel nods and he’s about to speak when a timer goes off behind him.

“Mierda, let me check the food. Just – follow me, please,” he says, motioning for you to follow him as he starts walking to the kitchen area of his penthouse.

You stand there for a few seconds before you start following him. You watch as Miguel goes around a long kitchen island, heading straight for a stove and for the first time you notice there’s pots and pans on it. The scent of food suddenly envelops you as Miguel quickly and efficiently checks one of the pots. He grabs the designated spoon for it and stirs its contents with his back to you.

You look around a little bit, thinking how his kitchen island is longer than your kitchen itself. You also notice it’s all very clean and organized, which you expected from Miguel.

Miguel turns off the burner before he puts the spoon away. He turns around to face you, finding you standing on the other side of his kitchen island, still holding the plates.

“Let me take that from you,” Miguel says walking around the island to retrieve the plates.

You hand them to him gently, sharing the feeling of your fingers brushing past each other’s. You offer him a smile as you take a step back.

“Oh,” you say remembering. “They also sent these,” you continue, pulling out the soda cans and one of the goody bags from your coat.

You set them on the island just as he sets the plates down, too. He looks at the cans and grabs one, looking at it.

“Thank you for bringing it to me. You didn’t have to,” he says as he places the can back on the counter.

You shrug. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Morales asked me, and I couldn’t say no to them. Besides…” you start as he looks down at you. “I realized I didn’t wish you happy holidays yesterday.”

Miguel nods, staring down at you. “It was a busy day. It always happens right before Christmas,” he says with an amused tone but he, too, thought about that earlier. About how he hadn’t seen you much yesterday with the two of you being preoccupied with your own things. He also thought about sending you a message earlier, but he thought you might be busy and besides, neither of you have ever sent messages to each other. He thought you might have found it – odd. “But – yes. We didn’t get to wish each other happy holidays,” he says softly, thinking how both of you thought about it.

You give him a small smile as you hear his last statement. You shift in your coat, feeling a little hot suddenly in Miguel’s warm apartment. Your clothes were perfect for the party out on the rooftop but too hot to be inside. Miguel notices.

“Here, I can help you out of your coat. The party is on the rooftop, right?” he asks as he steps closer.

“Yes, it’s on the rooftop,” you reply as you slide out of your coat with his help. You watch as he drapes it, carefully, over one of the kitchen island chairs.

You fix your clothes slightly, feeling less hot now that you have one layer off. “That’s much better,” you comment, chuckling a bit. “I had to bundle up. It was freezing out there.”

Miguel stares at your outfit, noticing you’re in cozy and festive clothes but noting they are definitely too much to be inside. “I can imagine. The chilly breeze feels like it bites the skin,” he says looking out his windows. “It’s supposed to snow, too.”

“I have that forecast, too,” you reply, joining him in staring out the windows from afar. “Anyway, you should try the food. It’s amazing,” you say, remembering the food.

Miguel turns to the plates. “I have no doubt. So… they chose you to bring the food?” he asks as he slowly takes the aluminum foil off one of the plates.

Your conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Morales flashes back to your mind. They asked you because they think you’re close to Miguel.

“Yes,” you answer simply, hoping he won’t ask why you and not someone else, since he must know that Miles invited the rest of the group, meaning another colleague could’ve brought him food.

Miguel nods as he inspects the food, looking pleased, which makes you smile. “I see,” he says, his eyes leaving the plate to meet yours. He gives you a look that makes you feel like he knows you were chosen to do this specifically out of everyone else before he returns his attention to the plate.

You freeze for a few seconds. Did your face reveal something? You clear your throat and rest your hands over a chair.

“It’s – a great party. Everyone is in a good mood,” you comment.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says softly as he looks down at the food. “I’m glad they’re enjoying their holidays.”

You nod, noticing the sincerity of his words. He looks up suddenly from the plate as an idea pops into his mind.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asks, and you nod.

“I ate a few hours ago,” you say, thankful that your stomach is not embarrassing you once again in front of him. He nods, looking somewhat disappointed. “But I’ll probably eat something else when I get back,” you add before you even realize it.

Miguel meets your eyes. “This food looks and smells amazing. Please give my thanks to the Morales family when you get back,” he says, pausing. “And – I was going to ask. If you don’t have to return right away, would you like to… join me for dinner? I made too much, and I don’t think I’ll finish it all on my own,” he says quickly.

Miguel looks down at you, feeling nervous about asking you but unable to stop himself from hoping you’ll say yes, even if it’s just for a little while.

You meet his eyes feeling a little surprised, though you hide it well before you nod.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you say with a smile. You remember that Mr. and Mrs. Morales did ask you to stay with him while he ate. However, you don’t bring it up. It might lead him to believe that you’re only staying because they asked you and it would force you to admit that you were planning to regardless of their request.

Miguel’s brief disappointment fades and is replaced with a lighter expression.

“I made a few dishes, so you have options,” he says softly. “Let me show you.”

With that, Miguel motions for you to follow him to the stove. You do so, curious to know what he cooked. You have the brief thought that this will be the second time Miguel gives you homemade food. The two of you stand in front of his stove and before Miguel shows you the food, he pushes his sleeves higher up. It’s still a strange sight and you can’t stop your eyes from gazing at his skin, noticing the veins from years of physical activity and arm hair. You turn away as you feel heat on your face from proximity to the stove and how warm Miguel’s penthouse is. No other reason.

“In this pot, there’s pozole,” Miguel says, lifting the lid to show you. He tells you what it is before he moves on to the other dishes.

It turns out that Miguel did cook quite a bit of food. He mentions pozole, tamales of two kinds, and tinga. He also made atole blanco and ponche navideño, two hot drinks perfect for the Christmas season. “If I’m being honest, I was craving all of these foods,” Miguel says as if he knows you’re thinking about how much food he cooked. You chuckle.

“Everything smells amazing, so I don’t blame you for craving them all,” you reply as you bring the spoon with pozole to your mouth. The warmness of it spreads down your chest as the two of you sit on the kitchen island, side by side.

Neither of you notice how your bodies are facing each other as you eat.

Miguel takes a bite out of the food Mr. and Mrs. Morales sent him and you notice he looks like he’s enjoying it. You eat more of your pozole and think how well of a cook he is. You remember him mentioning his mom taught him to cook when he was a teenager back when he showed up at your apartment for the first time. Conchata definitely taught him well.

You finish eating your small serving of pozole as you want to try the other food he made. He notices and looks at you.

“Do you want more pozole? Or would you like to try the other food?” he asks softly, cleaning his mouth gently with a napkin.

You smile at him and nod. “I’d like to try the other food if you don’t mind,” you say, and he nods before he stands up.

“I can get it myself, don’t worry,” you say and start getting up, but he raises a hand, making you pause.

“You’re my guest. It’s only right,” he says with a determined look. “What would you like to try next?” Miguel asks as he walks to the stove. He grabs a clean plate and turns to face you, ready for you to tell him.

You sit back down slowly as he stares at you.

“May I please try the tinga?” you ask with a soft but embarrassed smile.

“Would you like it with tostadas or as a burrito?” he asks, motioning to the pack of tostadas and flour tortillas on the counter.

“I’ll have it however you prefer it,” you answer honestly.

“What if I make you one of each? That way you can try both,” Miguel suggests.

You nod. “Okay, that sounds… good. Thank you,” you reply, and he nods before he grabs both packs and starts working on your plate.

You look down at your gizmo as he preps your food. It’s almost ten now. You look up again. Miguel is busy warming up flour tortillas. You notice him flipping them with his bare hands, not minding the heat. You look around the penthouse. It really is a large place.

Miguel flips the tortillas and turns back to look at you. He notices you looking around and he can’t help but feel a little self-conscious in that moment. Fragments of your apartment flash in his mind. Yours is well decorated. It feels welcoming and warm. It’s lived in. It’s a home for you. His penthouse, on the other hand, seems the opposite of it. Even when he used to actively live in it, he didn’t focus a lot on decorating and because of that, Gabriel and his mom took the initiative to do something about it.

The fact that Gabriel and his mom helped decorate it was one reason why he hadn’t bothered to change it in the last years. Another reason it remained the same was that it didn’t matter to him as he hardly spent time here after everything that happened with Gabriella and her universe anyway.

Until recently, of course. Ever since Peter’s birthday celebration, ever since that night, Miguel made it a goal to sleep here at least once a week. So far, he has stuck with it. It’s now been several weeks, which he counts as progress. And now, as he sees you take in his home, he can’t help but think about it. However, when your eyes meet his again, he sees no judgment from you. If anything, he sees curiosity, which amuses him on the inside. You offer him a small smile.

“Everything is so sleek and modern,” you say as you take in the kitchen again.

Miguel turns around to check on the tortillas, and seeing that they are done, he puts them on a plate. “Is that… not to your liking?” he asks as he starts fixing the food.

“Oh, it’s not that. It’s great,” you say still looking around.

“But?”

You sigh softly and Miguel turns around, walking the short distance from the stove to the kitchen island.

“You can say it,” he says as he finishes fixing the plates.

“I guess, I like old architecture more,” you finally admit. “But this is really nice though,” you add, and Miguel lets out a low chuckle that makes you pause and wonder what a real laugh from him would sound like.

“I like old architecture, too,” he reveals as he finishes fixing your plate. He slides it over the counter to you gently. “It has more personality.”

“Thank you,” you say as you take the plate. “And really? I thought you’d be more of a fan for your architecture.”

Miguel nods and offers you toppings for the food before he takes his own plate and sits next to you again. As you eat, the two of you talk briefly about the architecture of different universes you’ve been to. Turns out Miguel appreciates architecture like that of your universe. You eventually fall into a comfortable silence.

The two of you sit on Miguel’s kitchen island eating quietly in peace on Christmas Eve. It’s strange how comfortable it feels but then again, this is the second time you’ve eaten together since Dia de los Muertos. Still, this moment is a big deal. It’s the first time either of you have celebrated this holiday in years but it feels right.

As Miguel eats next to you, he can’t help but think about it. He really asked you to stay for dinner. That’s a first but he couldn’t stop himself once he thought about it. And he isn’t going to lie – he’s enjoying your company. He’s enjoying sharing the food he grew up eating during the holidays with you. His mind briefly turns to his family again. To his mother and Gabriel and the last holidays he was able to spend with them.

As he thinks about his own past holidays, Miguel wonders what yours were like. He wonders about your childhood and your parents. He wonders about the holidays you spent with Peter. As he takes a drink from one of the soda cans sent to him, he looks over at you. The two of you have been eating in silence, enjoying each other’s company, or at least he hopes you are like he is. He begins to wonder if he’s kept you here unwillingly. He feels embarrassment, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Maybe you had other plans, and here he is, keeping you from them. Embarrassment runs through his body as he looks at you but then, you look up from your plate and you smile at him in a way that makes his worry and embarrassment melt away.

“This is officially the best food I’ve ever had,” you say as you finish eating. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to ask you for the recipe.”

Miguel gives you a subtle smile, and despite how small it is, it still catches you by surprise, though you are better at hiding it now. “I can give it you, that’s no problem,” he says putting his drink down. “Or I can cook it for you if you prefer,” he adds, making him freeze internally. He hasn’t offered to cook for anyone in a while. Sure, he cooked that day at your apartment when you were unwell because of your period but this is different. Or it feels different for some reason Miguel can’t explain.

You nod and smile. “Either way, I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says softly before standing up.

Miguel begins putting away the dishes and even though you try helping him, he declines your help because he’s the “host.” So, you sit on your chair and watch as he cleans up, wishing he’d allow you to help but you know he’ll decline again. You finish your drink, the other soda can you brought, and watch as Miguel finishes up. Despite knowing that Miguel knows his way around a kitchen, you’re still somewhat in awe at how fast and efficient he is at cleaning up. You can’t help but think of Peter in that moment. He, too, knew his way around the kitchen and helped with the chores around the apartment, which was something you loved and appreciated about him as you often heard female colleagues complain about their partners not helping when you used to work. You’ve always appreciated it when a man knows how to do chores and helps instead of leaving the chores strictly to the woman, and so you can’t help but think about this as you watch Miguel.

You pull your sweater’s neck slightly, feeling a little hot. Miguel’s penthouse is warm and you’re still wearing two layers of clothes. As Miguel finishes up, you slide off the sweater you have, leaving you in a long-sleeved top. You fold it neatly and place it on the next chair from which your coat hangs. If you head back to the party, you’ll just suit up again but for now, you’ll try to cool off.

Miguel turns around then and looks at you, leaning back on the counter as he holds a towel. He dries his hands with it after washing them. He notices your sweater is gone and feels a little amused. You were definitely wearing too many layers to be inside in the warmth.

“I don’t know if you’re still up for it, but I have those two hot drinks,” he says, flinging the towel over his shoulder in a graceful way.

Of course, you notice it. It’s not every day that Miguel O’Hara wears normal clothes or that he looks this relaxed, leaning back on a kitchen counter and swinging a towel over his shoulder gracefully. It’s a sight for you and you alone.

“Well… Miles and Gwen mentioned a little while ago that you and Miguel are close.”

You hear Mrs. Morales’s comment in your head as you nod at Miguel. “I’m up for it,” you reply, and he nods. There’s a pleased look on his face before he turns around to open a cabinet to retrieve mugs.

And he is. Miguel is pleased that you’re open to trying out the hot drinks. That you’ll stay a little longer. As he pours the drinks, he thinks about what this means. Of course, he’s thought about how much he’s shared with you and how much you’ve shared with him. He’s thought about it… about how you’re the closest he has to a friend.

You are his friend.

He thought about it on Dia de los Muertos night when he came to his penthouse to sleep. Anyone could argue that Jess and Peter were friends but his friendship with them has always been different. It wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for work, or at least he feels like that. They’re work friends and he’s never shared as much as he’s shared with you. No matter how much the two of them tried, Miguel never felt comfortable enough to share his life.

And with you, there he was. Showing up at your apartment to show you his ofrenda. His memories poured out of him like they had been waiting for the right person to spill out for. It was easy to talk to you. It was different.

Miguel felt like he had a friend for once in many, many years that night. And he didn’t know that night, or even now, if you feel the same. He knows you have your group of friends, the ones that quickly adopted you into their group when you were recruited. The same ones he was keeping you away from right now, but he hopes that you see him as somewhat of a friend despite being your boss.

Miguel finishes preparing the drinks. He takes two mugs to you, one with atole blanco and the other with ponche navideño. He slides them gently over the counter to avoid spilling any before he turns around to retrieve his own mugs.He walks around the counter and takes a seat next to you as you thank him again, this time for the hot drinks.

Miguel nods at you as he picks up one of the mugs. “I hope you like it. The atole blanco might taste a little strange when you first try it, but I swear it grows on you,” he says reassuringly. He briefly thinks back to when he first tried it. He was about ten when his mom asked him to try it. The first sip made him pause but after the third drink, he loved it. Gabriel, on the other hand, took longer to try it. He was almost twelve when he finally gave in.

You take a drink from the atole blanco while Miguel’s eyes are on you. He can’t help himself from wanting to see your reaction and he’s glad when he sees you react well to it. You smile at him and nod.

“This is great! I see what you mean by strange, but I like it. It’s very… cozy and comforting,” you say as you drink more. “It’s like – it’s perfect for Christmas. I can’t explain it,” you say, and he nods.

“This was a must on Christmas growing up,” he says as he drinks some, too.

The two of you enjoy the hot drink in peace. As you place the cup down again, you’re thankful Mr. and Mrs. Morales gave you an excuse to talk to Miguel tonight despite having felt nervous when you first arrived. Miguel seems comfortable and doesn’t seem to mind that you’re here, though it should be obvious as he did invite you to stay for dinner. Miguel places his cup down and turns to you, his knee brushes past your leg slightly and he moves it discreetly away.

“What were – what were your Christmases like growing up?” he asks suddenly, quietly.

You turn your face to him, though your bodies are facing each other already. You feel a little surprised by his sudden question, but you don’t mind it. You meet his eyes before looking at the mugs before you, thinking.

“To keep it simple, they were amazing,” you say, returning your eyes to him. “I was an only child, but my parents always went all out. They loved the Christmas spirit, so our apartment was always decorated after Thanksgiving,” you say with a bright smile as you remember. Miguel notices the glint in your eyes as you talk. “We always put the Christmas tree together and they’d let me put the star at the top, even when I was a teenager and later an adult. They were always good,” you say, nodding softly as you think of your parents.

Miguel nods with a faint smile though you don’t notice it. He thinks of a younger you, a version he doesn’t know and will never know. He thinks about Peter, unable to stop himself from thinking about how he probably knew that version of you. He lifts his mug and takes a drink, trying to wash away these strange thoughts.

“Sounds like you had a great childhood,” he finally says, and you nod, making you feel a little sad as you remember Miguel telling you about his step and biological fathers. He didn’t say anything, but you felt that his childhood was not always great.

You bring your own cup to your lips and drink, wanting to change the conversation but Miguel doesn’t mind. He has put a lot of it behind him, at least those parts of his life.

“So, when you said they’d let you put the star on the tree as an adult, you mean it?” he asks, sounding a little amused.

You nod and give him a smile. “I was in university, and they still allowed me do it,” you say with a chuckle. “Peter would tease me about it, but it was fun for all of us.”

Miguel nods, thinking. You notice he has that look on his face. The one when he’s thinking about something.

“What is it?” you ask softly.

Miguel turns to you and shakes his head slightly. “Nothing. I was just thinking… Wondering, I guess.”

“About what? You can ask,” you say, your tone sincere since you don’t mind. He has already shared quite a lot about his past. It’s only fair he asks about yours.

Miguel sighs softly, continuing to hold your gaze. “When did you meet Peter?” he asks quietly, as if unsure of asking this question.

You smile, not minding the question at all. “When we were sixteen. He moved schools and we instantly became friends, which then turned into a relationship,” you say fondly before you pick up your mug and drink.

Miguel stares at you as you do this, still thinking. Since sixteen. It was Peter’s twenty-sixth birthday just weeks ago, which means you had known and dated each other for almost a decade by the time he passed away. He looks down at his nearly empty mug. Almost a decade of a relationship and you still try to live life to the fullest. Miguel grips the cup.

“How do you do it?” he asks quietly.

“Do what?” you ask in confusion.

“You knew Peter for so long. Dated him for so long. And you still… you try.”

You stare at Miguel, feeling a little startled by the sudden change of conversation but Miguel looks like he genuinely wants to know. You remember this was something you thought about in the early days. How people could move on. How they could carry day to day even after losing someone.

“Miguel…” you start and look down at your cups. “It isn’t easy. Especially in the beginning,” you add softly, knowing that for Miguel, it has been a little over a year since he lost his wife and Gabriella. For you, it’s almost four years since you lost Peter. You’re on different points of your mourning periods. You sigh softly. “It isn’t easy at all in the beginning,” you repeat as you think of your next words. “I wasn’t the woman you know now, or even the one you were introduced to months ago,” you say lightly, making Miguel turn to you, with curious eyes. “I don’t want to ruin the Christmas spirit, so I’ll try my best not to.”

Miguel shakes his head. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to. I don’t want to – take away the lightness of today,” he says with a regrettable look on his face.

Why did he ask, he wonders. Everything was going so well.

“No, it’s okay. It helps. Talking about it helps,” you say, reassuring him. You stay silent for about a minute, trying to figure out how to approach this. “I lost sight of things for a month or two after Peter’s death,” you start.

You look away, feeling shame course through you as you remember those dark days. You don’t want to see the look on Miguel’s face when you reveal something you’ve never shared with anyone.

“I’m not proud of it… It brings me great shame to say this,” you say as you stare down at the cups. “There was a time after Peter’s death – a month after everything took place to be exact – that I,” you pause. “I looked for him. I tried hunting down the man that did it,” you say quietly.

“I had a regular job back then, so I went to work. I mourned and tried my best to accommodate to my new life but at night… I couldn’t stop thinking how I could’ve done better. How I could’ve saved him. I thought of the man who did it. How he took Peter from me. The love of my life, my last bit of family…” you trail off, though your tone is still light, and you feel proud of yourself for it, for you know months ago, this conversation would’ve had you in tears. “My thoughts were consumed by it. So, I went out to try to find him. I didn’t plan on doing something to him, I swear,” you say pausing, trying to emphasize this. “All I wanted was to know who he was. Bring him to justice.”

Miguel continues to look at you with a pained expression on his face now as he hears you talk. There is a faraway look on your face, as if you were back in that time but you turn back to him and he’s like an anchor, keeping you tethered to this moment.

“One night, when I thought I had a lead – I was on a rooftop, and I finally realized that Peter would’ve never wanted to see me like that. And that I was failing my promise to him,” you say, meeting Miguel’s eyes. “He made me promise to try to move on. To be open to another love. I tried after that. It was slow progress. The last few months since I joined the society have really helped me,” you say with a soft smile as you wrap your fingers around your mug softly.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever really move on, but it feels easier as the days go on,” you tell Miguel. “I guess, it also helped that I eventually found the man. Or rather, he found me. I forgave him,” you say with a quiet sigh and offer Miguel a smile. And as he stares at you, he realizes how much stronger you are than he thought. “He was my own version of Flint Marko, otherwise known as Sandman. He never meant to hurt Peter that day. He was just – trying to rob a bank to get money for his child’s surgery.”

You stare down at the cups and think of Marko. Last you heard from him, he was trying to do better, and his daughter, who was now older, recovered from her illness. You lift the cup to your lips and take a small drink before setting it down.

“I’m not the best example of how to do it,” you say, looking up. “But I try and sometimes, that’s all you can do. For them.”

Miguel continues to stare at you and even though you thought you might’ve found judgment in his eyes, you see none of the sort. Miguel stares at you with even more respect than before. He looks down at his hands for a few seconds before he looks up again.

“I think – Peter must be happy that you are trying to honor his promises,” he says softly, wishing he could say more. Wishing he could reach out to you physically the way his hands were begging him to.

You smile at him. “I think so, too. I think he’s happy with where I’m now. You know, the whole reason I joined the Spider Society was because of him. I declined the invitation from Jess initially until she asked me what he would’ve thought about everything. I know he would’ve loved the idea of it. He would’ve loved learning about the multiverse,” you say with a grin and then shake your head softly as you pick up the mug again. “He loved science, too.”

Miguel stares at you, surprised at hearing this. Jess never mentioned you rejecting her invitation. He looks up at the ceiling a little bit and in that moment, he finds himself internally thanking a man he never met.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he says after a few seconds of silence. “I’m sorry if it made you…” Miguel trails off.

You turn to him again. “It’s okay. It didn’t. It helps,” you say, and your tone is still lighthearted. “I think I’m ready to try the other drink.”

Miguel continues to stare at you. “I think I am, too… This one is sweeter,” he says as he wraps his fingers around the mug. Miguel watches as you lift the mug to your mouth to try it and once again, there’s that pleased look on your face that makes him forget his worry from earlier about messing with your plans. You don’t seem to mind.

As the two of you sit there and enjoy the second hot drink, Miguel’s thoughts are on you. You’re so strong and not only in a physical way but in a way that Miguel feels he hasn’t been able to. You’re strong by trying to fulfill your promises. For forgiving the man that took Peter from you. For trying to move forward and trying at life. Miguel has never said it, but he respects you.

You’ve accepted his boundaries in a way so many others haven’t. You’ve offered him nothing but kindness. You’ve listened when he shares memories with you. You’re a hard worker and meticulous when it comes to your duties as Spider-Woman. You’re strong. So strong.

And his respect for you grows tenfold, if that’s even possible, considering how much he already respected you before tonight. Miguel thinks about this and the fact that you’re the first person that has been to his penthouse in years.

Friend.

Maybe you do consider him a friend, Miguel thinks to himself as he takes a drink, too.

“This is really good, too,” you say quietly as you drink more, and for some reason, it makes Miguel feel pleased.

“Glad you liked both,” he murmurs as he drinks more. He suddenly wonders what time it is. The two of you have been here for what feels like two hours now. He checks the time discreetly from a nearby clock.

It’s past eleven, which means it’s almost time for the annual AI Christmas holographic show. He stands up, making you turn to see him.

“It’s almost time for something my city does annually. I think you’ll like it,” he says and motions for you to follow him.

You see him take his mug and you do the same before you follow him to the windows that face his kitchen and dining areas directly, giving Miguel another sight of the city. He leans sideways on the windows and looks down, waiting for you to join him. You reach the windows and lean on them, too, mirroring his stance. You look down and see the Christmas decorations on the snow-covered ground despite being on the highest floor of this building. The decorations, which are holographic, make you realize for the first time that there’s no sight of a Christmas tree in Miguel’s penthouse. You don’t say anything about this, of course. You know with everything that’s happened, a Christmas tree is the last thing one can think about in times like these. You’re glad there’s at least a little bit of Christmas spirit in Miguel since he cooked and took the day off though.

Still watching the decorations, you think of something and wonder. You’ve noticed some of them from HQ when you walk by the windows throughout the month, but it’s been like a second thought with missions and what not. You wonder now if everyone has holographic Christmas trees or if physical trees are still a thing here. You look up at Miguel and he turns, as if feeling your gaze.

“What is it?” he asks softly before he takes a drink.

“Are physical Christmas trees a thing here?”

Miguel gives you a small smile, which still catches you by surprise. “Only the wealthy have physical trees. Everyone else has holographic decorations,” he explains, and you nod. You know Miguel is wealthy, so his lack of a tree is not because of money but because he didn’t want to put one up.

You look back outside, thinking. Miguel continues to stare at you, wanting to know what you’re thinking.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” he asks, though for him it isn’t. He’s used to the technology and to this tradition, but he can imagine how it can be odd for you when you come from a universe where physical Christmas trees are the norm.

You bring the cup to your mouth, enjoying the sweetness of the hot drink. “I was just thinking how putting the Christmas tree together as a family is a big thing. Or well, it was for my family and I.”

Miguel nods, remembering what you said earlier about your family and the holidays. He leans more into the window, crossing one of his legs over the other.

“To make up for that, families sit down and design the ornaments together through their devices. Then, they upload their designs to the tree. There’s a program and everything,” he says thinking about the process. He has an artificial tree, which is stored at HQ, but he also has a holographic one from previous years when he was too busy to put a physical one with his family. “I’ll show you,” he suddenly says, putting his mug on the window stool before he heads to the living room section. As he looks for a tablet on his table, he can’t help but think about this. How he’s comfortable showing you things. How he wants to show you things. Like how the holographic tree program works or the annual AI Christmas holographic show which should start soon.

Friend.

He finds the tablet and starts it up, which only takes about a second to boot up. He walks back to you as he opens the program. He reaches you and stands closer to show you.

“First, you put the tree up,” he says as he shows you the screen. The two of you stand side by side, looking at the screen as he clicks on the tablet. He looks up and points. “It’ll appear right there.”

Sure enough, a large holographic Christmas tree, decorated in classic Christmas colors, appears a few feet away from the two of you, near Miguel’s dining table.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur as you notice the star at the top of the tree.

“Thank you,” Miguel says as he looks at it, too. He wasn’t expecting to put up a tree this year but here he is. He looks back down at the screen. “Then, you can design your own ornaments using this program,” Miguel continues and shows you. He pulls out a stylus from the tablet, surprising you. The tablet is so thin you wonder how it’s even possible but then remember it’s Nueva York.

You watch as Miguel uses the stylus to design an ornament. He inserts lines as part of the design and changes the color of the ornament to match the theme. It takes him a few seconds to finish before he writes his name on it neatly.

“And it’s done. Now you upload it like this,” he says and shows you. “The program decides where it should go but you can manually change it if you want,” he adds.

The two of you look up just as it appears on an empty spot on the tree. Miguel then offers you the tablet and stylus. You look up at him, confused.

“Try it,” he says, still waiting for you to take the tablet and stylus from his hands.

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking down at it.

He nods. “Give it a go.”

You set your mug next to his on the window stool and take the tablet and stylus from him, your fingers brushing past his bare ones once again. You ignore the sensation and focus on the screen with the new canvas to design yours. Your brows furrow as you think for a second about what you want it to look like. You start working on it, with Miguel watching intently. He notices how quickly you figure out how to use the program and watches as you design your ornament with ease.

As you work on it, you can’t help but notice a scent. Or rather his scent. You’ve caught a bit of it before of course but it has never been this strong to your nose. Not like this when he stands by your side, so close your arms are almost touching, with him dressed in normal clothes. You add small details to your ornament as his scent envelops you, distracting you slightly as the combination of his shower products and shaving cream blended with his natural scent surround you. You can’t suppress the thought that pops into your head at that moment, which is that his scent is delightful.

You clear your throat quietly as you add your name to the ornament. You stare at it for a few seconds.

“Hmm, I like the traditional stuff, but not going to lie, this was fun,” you say and smile at Miguel, still feeling distracted by his scent. “I can see kids enjoying this a lot.”

Miguel nods, his lips curling upward again as you give him the tablet back, completely unaware of your thoughts. “You may not like the architecture, but I think you would settle just fine in this universe,” he comments, as he looks at your ornament, thinking of how quickly you figured it out and the fact that yours turned out better than his. “Now… you just upload it,” he says softly before he does exactly like that. You stare at the tree, feeling a little surprised that he’s adding your ornament, but you shrug it off. The two of you watch as your ornament, which matches the tree’s theme, appears right next to his.

Miguel stares at it, the sight of your ornament appearing next to his makes him pause for a second. It’s the first time in years Miguel has put up a tree in his penthouse. It’s also the first time that a non-family person has added their ornament to his tree.

Miguel now clears his throat quietly. “Not bad at all,” he says and nods. “Oh, the show should start soon,” he says, trying to put his thoughts away about the tree and your ornament.

You nod. “Thank you. That was fun,” you add as you turn your attention back to the decorations outside. You briefly look down at your gizmo. It’s 11:33 P.M. now, meaning Christmas Day is less than thirty minutes away now. You’ve spent a lot more time here than you expected but you don’t mind. You wonder if people back in Miles’s universe have left the party or if they’re still hanging out.

“Glad you enjoyed that,” Miguel says softly, putting the tablet on a nearby surface. You notice he doesn’t put the tree away. It’s still there as he leans on the window sideways again, looking outside towards the decorations as well. He briefly thinks about Gabriella. He only had one Christmas with her. He remembers it vividly as he looks out, recalling Gabriella’s excitement on Christmas morning. He remembers thinking how perfect it was and how, if all his future Christmases could’ve been like that, he would’ve never asked for anything else. His wife wasn’t in the picture then, so it had just been Gabriella and him. Now that he thought of it, he and his wife didn’t have much time together. It was very brief. Miguel clears his throat. He doesn’t want to think of the past like that right now. He doesn’t want to think of how rushed everything was when it came to his relationship and marriage. Not tonight.

His thoughts are thankfully interrupted when he sees the sign that the show is starting. He turns to look at you to make sure you’re watching, and of course, you are. Your eyes are on the sky as you see the announcement before it starts, filled with curiosity and awe. Miguel turns his gaze back to the sky as the show starts. Holographic Christmas trees appear from thin air, all lit up in Christmas colors. Reindeer fly by the windows, galloping here and there. Twinkling lights decorate the background as holographic snowflakes descend before they begin to form into snowmen that start dancing.

You watch in awe, finding this fascinating. Miguel steals a glance to see your reaction. He sees the awe and fascination on your face, clearly enjoying this.

“This isn’t even the best part,” he says quietly as he knows there’s always more to it.

You smile as reindeer fly by the windows again. “This is so – I wish we had this in my universe,” you answer quietly. “The closest we have to this are projections.”

Miguel chuckles lowly. “Well… You’re welcome to come watch it again next year,” he answers as he crosses his arms across his chest.

Neither of you say anything else. Was that an invitation for you to join him again next year? You push your thoughts away and focus on the show just as a holographic Santa Claus and his sled appear out of nowhere, making you smile.

“Santa Claus,” you whisper as the sled approaches Miguel’s windows. The holographic Santa Claus waves as he passes by making you chuckle. The show continues with Santa Claus flying around as the reindeer align themselves to the sled, supposedly to get ready for the flight. At one point the show presents Santa’s workshop and tiny elves working on different toys and preparing the sled. It concludes with Santa flying by the windows again, this time with all his reindeer and magical sack of toys before they fly off, disappearing into the sky. A large holographic “Feliz Navidad” message and red poinsettias conclude the show.

You stare at the message, still in awe with a smile.

“That was amazing. You grew up with this?” you ask softly.

Miguel nods. “Gabriel and I always looked forward to it.”

You smile, once again thinking of a younger Miguel. “It must be amazing, to experience this as a child,” you answer, thinking of kids.

“The kids love it,” he replies as he also stares at the message, knowing it will stay up past midnight.

You nod and the two of you just stare out the window in silence for a few minutes. You watch as you see white, tiny spots in the sky. With each second, more and more appear.

“It’s starting to snow,” you murmur, making Miguel pay more attention and sure enough, it’s snowing.

“A white Christmas,” he whispers, as the snow picks up.

“A white Christmas,” you repeat.

The two of you stand ever so closely, leaning on the window sideways, your bodies facing each other as you watch the falling snow. And in that moment, everything feels alright with the world for you and Miguel, despite everything.

You look down at your gizmo. It’s past midnight now.

“Merry Christmas,” you say, quietly.

Miguel smiles softly as the two of you stare out the window. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Thirty minutes later, Miguel stands in front of his holographic Christmas tree alone. You returned home a few minutes ago, looking and sounding tired after being out for so long. So, you both said goodnight to each other but not before Miguel asked if you’d want some food or if you’d prefer to join him again in a few hours for the recalentado.

You said yes to the latter.

Miguel continues to stare at the tree, or more specifically at the new ornaments, for a few minutes, thinking.

Friend.

He finally goes to sleep after storing the food away. He leaves the Christmas tree up, which you still find when you return hours later to eat dinner with him on Christmas Day.

__________________________

Translation for italicized words: Mierda - Shit Pozole - A kind of soup/stew made from hominy and meat (can be chicken or beef). Tamales - I think everyone knows these Tinga - Latin dish made out of meat (pork, chicken) in sauce with onions, chiles chipotle and tomatoes. Can be eaten on tostadas or as burritos (my experience) Atole Blanco - white atole, a Latin hot drink made out of corn meal Ponche Navideño - Mexican Christmas fruit punch Tostadas - toasted tortillas; usually used as a base for different culinary dishes Recalentado - word translates to "reheated"; this is the act of inviting your closest friends and family the day after you host a party to eat the reheated leftovers, it's supposed to be a smaller tight-knit situation and less formal because it's with close family/friends (do you see what this means for you, the reader? I'm not okay, right now)

May I just -

Miguel in a freaking chunky cable knit sweater. His damp hair. His bare skin. His scent (I KNOW HE SMELLS GOOD and you cannot change my mind). Him knowing that you were asked specifically to go drop him food. Him asking you to stay for dinner. Him serving the food. Him being a great cook. Him being a great host. His respect for you growing. Him wanting to comfort you physically (AHH.) Him showing you the annual Christmas show and how the holographic Christmas tree thing works and adding your ornament and staring at it because it appeared next to his and him leaving the tree up even tho he didn't plan on putting one up and him thanking Peter for influencing you to join the Spider Society even tho he never met him (CRYING, SCREAMING). Him inviting you for dinner again!!!!!!

So a lot of people said yes to the Christmas part but I was also selfish and wanted to write Miguel like this and get some Christmas comfort before the next part because... yeah. So, sorry to anyone who didn't want it. I needed this.

Also, I'm sorry for the late update. I meant to post Sunday but it was that time of the month and it kicked my butt. I hope you enjoy it, and if you've read this far, thank you for the support!! ❤️ I hope to be back Sunday with an update, tho I have a family event Saturday so idk if it'll be possible but I'll try.

I love Miguel so much and it's a problem but it's okay -Alondra

Tag list:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @rootin-tootin-morgan @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @mandodinstuff @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze

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dragon-kazansky · 9 months ago

Text

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Seven - Sound of wings

☆☆☆

Morpheus had been rather down these last few days. He kept mostly to himself. You had spent most of your time in raven form, too embarrassed to appear to him in human form. Even though you had got the hang of changing now.

You looked up at him as he adjusted his coat slightly. "Going somewhere?"

He looked almost startled by you when he realised you were beside him. He looked down at you. "I'm going to the waking world. I'm meeting my sister..."

You cock your head to the side. "Want me to come with you?"

He goes silent for a moment and then answers. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

He looks relieved, almost.

You stay on his shoulder as he transports you to the waking world. You take flight over his head as he leads you both to a public park. Morpheus sits down, and you land on the bench next to him.

In his hands is some bread. He statt pulling at it and spreading it on the ground.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Trying to blend in."

You look around. There is a lot happening in the park. Some people are playing a gane with a ball. Some people are walking dogs, kr sitting on benches chatting. Some people are playing with children in the distance.

However, as you look back at Morpheus, you can't help feeling he still stands out. No one seems to bat an eye at him.

You look up at him. He looks sad again. "Is something wrong?" You tey and coax him.

"Don't worry about it."

You sigh and hop a little closer to him. "Look, we're friends, right? You've done a lot for me. I want to help you too. You can talk to me about stuff."

He glances at you. "I know. I think... I'll wait until she gets here."

You know he means his sister. You look at the bread in his hands. He seems to notice you watching him. He takes some crumbs between his fingers and then throws them at you.

"Hey!" You look up at him.

He has a smug little smile on his face. You watch him try and do it again, but this time, you fight back and try to nip his fingers with your beak. He flinches his hand back and then throws more bread crumbs at you before sulking again and feeding the other birds in front of him.

You scoff softly and move to stand on the back of the bench.

"Stupid pigeons. They're not as fun as me, you know."

Dream doesn't respond. You wonder what's on his mind. You wish he would talk to you.

A ball comes flying from the game being played, and Morpheus catches it one hand. You look up at him in awe. It makes sense he would be able to catch it like it did, but it still impressed you. Morpheus impressed you.

The young man playing the game came over and apologised. He looks at you and then back at Morpheus. He obviously finds it strange that this grown man is sitting on a bench with a bird, but you talking would definitely make it weirder.

He takes the ball and returns to the game.

You look up in time to see his sister walking over. She smiles at you before taking a seat on the bench. A moment of silence passes between the siblings before she speaks.

"What you doing?"

"I'm feeding the pigeons," he replies.

Death looks at you before looking back at her brother. She can tell something is wrong.

"You do that too much, you know what you get?"

Morpheus shakes his head gently.

"Fat pigeons." She smiles. "That's from Mary Poppins. Did you ever see it?"

"No."

A little girl runs past through the birds and startles them. You watch her go. Death smiles as she watches her go, too.

Morpheus is very silent. Death looks at her brother and asks, "what's the matter?"

"What do you mean?"

"She means she knows something is wrong. Look at you." You flap your wings and land on his head. His hair is soft under your little feet. You look down at him. "You're brooding."

He looks up at you and sighs. It felt strange having you on his head like this. You've never done that before. Perhaps you're getting a little bold these days.

Like when you hugged him.

Death chuckles softly. "Your dear raven is right. I know you, Dream."

"I don't know what's wrong, but... You're right. Something is the matter."

Death sits back and shows him she's listening. You remove yourself from atop his head and occupy the little space between them.

"When they captured me, I just had one thought. Vengeance. It wasn't as satisfying as I'd expected. Meanwhile, my kingdom had fallen apart. My tools long since stolen and scattered. And so I embarked upon a journey to find them. Which I did. I'm now more powerful than I have been in eons. And yet..."

He goes silent. Death understands. She leans forward again. "Here you are, feeding the pigeons."

"You see, until then, I'd had a true quest. A purpose beyond my function, and then suddenly, it was over, and... I felt disappointed. Let down. Empty."

You look up at Morpheus as he speaks from the heart. You feel sad he couldn't confide in you about any of this, but at least he has his sister to talk to. You resist the urge to nuzzle his arm with your head to comfort him.

"Does that make sense?" He asks, looking at his sister. "I was so sure that once I got everything back, I'd feel good. But in some ways, I feel worse than when I started. I feel like... Nothing. There. You asked."

You hop up onto his knee and look up at him. He glances down at you. Death smiles at you. She always knew you two shared a close bond. She can see there's something new in his eyes when he looks at you.

"You could have called me, you know." Death tells him.

"I didn't want to worry you." He says back.

"Oh, I don't believe it. Let me tell you something, Dream." She takes the bread from his hand. You hop off his knee and look up at Death. "And I'm only going to say this once, so you better pay attention. You are utterly the stupidest, most self-centered, pathetic excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this or any other plane. Feeling sorry for yourself because your little game is over and you haven't got the balls to go out and find a new one. You're as bad as Desire. No, worse."

Death throws the bread back at him, and he catches it. You laugh. Dream looks at you as if you had betrayed him. You stop laughing and look at him sheepishly.

"Has he been like this the entire time?" Death asks.

"Mostly. I mean, he did help me a lot, but even that finished..." You say. "He's been helping me with my transformations."

"Transformations?" Death asks.

"Yeah. I have a human form now." You tell her.

"You do? Interesting." She smiles. "How is life treating you then?"

"Uh, fine. I've... I've been through a lot, but I suppose everyone in the Dreaming has."

Death continues to smile at you and then looks at her brother. She sighs. "Did it never occur to you that I would be worried about you?" She asks.

"I didn't think you-"

"Exactly. You didn't think."

The ball comes flying again, and this time, Death catches it. Morpheus lowers his gaze to pigeons in front of him. While Franklin, the young man playing ball, talks to Death, you look at Morpheus.

"You're as good as your... friend there."

"He's not my friend. He's my brother. And he's an idiot."

You resist laughing while the mortal is present. Morpheus knows you want to react to that.

"I'm just feeding the birds." Morpheus says.

"Look, I can't stay here all day. I've got work to do. You can come with me if you want, or you can stay here and sulk." Death tells him.

"I'll come with you, I suppose." He replies.

"Well, don't do me any favours." She smiles at him. As Morpheus rises she chuckles.

You prepare to fly off back to the Dreaming when Morpheus turns around and looks at you. "Aren't you coming too?" He asks.

You look up at him and then at Death.

"Uh... won't it be strange if I'm flying behind you all the time?"

"You could come with me as a human. You mastered that ability." He says.

"Yeah, but... I... Don't you prefer it when I'm a raven?" You ruffle your feathers.

"I like you in any form." He says to you softly.

"Oh. Uh..."

Death smiles softly. "You're welcome to come too. I'd quite like to see the new you."

You feel embarrassed. There's a look in Dream's eyes that tells you he really wants you to come with him.

You sigh and fly behind the tree nearby. As you come back around, you're human again. You're wearing the clothes Dream gave you. You look up shyly at the siblings.

Death looks really excited at seeing you like this.

Dream looks... happy. His eyes seem to light up.

You follow them awkwardly. As Death says, she'll see Franklin soon.

Morpheus glances at you behind them, wondering if his request for you to join them made you uncomfortable. You look nervous. Shy, even.

Death takes you both on a walk. It's a sunny day, and there's lots of things going on here and there. She stops at a stall and looks at the apple.

"Three please."

"None for me, thank you," Morpheus says.

"You could have it later," Death suggests. He just looks at her. "Just two then."

The vendor chooses 2 apples for her and hands them over. She smiles and turns, holding one out for you.

You look at it.

"Go on, you'll like it." She smiles at you.

You glance up at Morpheus, who watches you silently. You reach out and take the apple. Death smiles and loops her arm with her brother as they continue walking. She bites into the apple.

You stare at yours. You haven't really done anything human. It didn't dawn on you to try. You bring the apple to your lips and take a bite. It's juicy and crunchy. You chew it slowly, tasting it.

You don't miss the way the siblings glance at you before carrying on.

You chew the apple slowly. You like it.

"You are good with them," Morpheus says to his sister.

"Apples?"

"Humans." He clarifies.

Death holds up the apple to him. "Bite?"

"No, thank you."

You take another bite from your own apple, savouring the taste. You may not have experienced a lot of human foods, but you think apples might be your favourite.

"Have you seen any of the others since you've been back?" Death asks Dream. He confirms he hasn't. Death mentions the last dinner they had together.

You continue to enjoy the apple as you look around and follow them. All these people around you were going places, doing things. You were experiencing life in the waking world for the first time properly. Sure, you've been here as a raven, but you never really took the time to just enjoy it. To watch them.

Maybe this human side of you would help you learn more about them.

You hear Death tell Dream he was missed, along with their missing brother who left some time ago. When he keeps quiet, she teases him by pretending he's asking her questions and then she answers them.

You smile. It must be nice having a sibling.

Morpheus finds it amusing and looks at her, asking, "How are you, my sister? How have you been keeping?"

"I'm worried about my brother." She replies. "And I'm enjoying this apple." She turns around and looks at you. "You enjoying yours?" She asks.

"Oh, yes." You nod. She can see you've eaten more than half of it. She smiles.

"Don't hide back there. Come join us. He has two arms, you know." She chuckles.

You feel yourself become shy again. You're not sure what's got into you. Normally, you don't become so embarrassed. You decide to join them on Dream's other side, but you don't dare touch him.

Morpheus notices this.

As you walk a little further along, you hear violin music coming from an open window above you. The three of you stop to listen.

"I know this piece." Morpheus says softly. "I haven't heard it in 200 years."

"Come on." Death urges him softly to follow her. You fall behind them again, heading inside with the siblings.

You dispose of the last of your apple.

The violin music plays as you enter the apartment. When you reach the room, it's being played from, it stops as the man coughs. Death approaches the man.

"Don't stop, please." She says gently.

You stand behind Dream as you watch her talk to him. The conversation is gentle and warm. You've never seen her at work before. She's so delicate and comforting with them.

She lets the man say a prayer before he takes her hand.

Morpheus looks at you as she goes into the other room with him. You can hear her wings.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

You look up at him. "Yes."

Death returns. You smile at her. She smiles at you. She reaches for your arm this time, and you walk with her back outside.

"Does my brother treat you well?" She asks as you walk along a bridge.

"Yes. He's a very good ruler, and I do my best to serve him as he expects." You say to her.

"But is that all?"

"What do you mean?" You look at her. You're aware of Dream following you both from behind. Surely he can hear you both talk.

"Did you ever question your death?"

You look at her. She smiles.

"Of course I did... I... Alex Burgess shot me. I died. Then I woke up in the Dreaming... as a human..."

Death's smile remains on her face. "That was me."

"Huh?"

Dream raises his head up when he hears that. He was listening.

"You have served my brother since the very beginning. You've seen all he has seen. You have been by his side all this time."

"Yes..."

"He relies on you. He cares for you. There is no bond with the one you both have together. So, how can I ever take that away from him?" She asks.

"I don't understand..."

"I love my brother. I do. I want him to be happy." You wonder if she realises he can hear all this. "Taking you away broke him, so I had to give you back."

You stare at her as you both come to a stop. She begins to remove her boots. You glance behind you and find Morpheus looking at you. You turn away.

Death doesn't say any more on the matter. She leads the way down to a grassy bank. You find yourself walking beside Dream again.

A young man has drowned in the canal. You watch Death do her job.

"Did you know?" You ask, not looking at Morpheus.

"No."

You watch the wife of the man run to her husband's body and cry. People gather around. You drop your gaze.

"But I am glad," Dream says.

You lift your eyes to look at him. The sound of wings flapping in the background.

Death watches you both from where she stands. The way her brother looks at you can't possibly be mistaken for anything else. She smiles softly. You two still have so much to learn about each other.

You end up following the siblings again while they talk. Dream tells Death it was her Burgess was after. She knew.

He then asks her how she's does it.

Death confides in him about how she feels about her role. "I have a job to do. And I do it. When the first living thing existed, I was there. When the last living thing dies, I'll put the chairs on the table, turn out the lights and... lock the universe behind me when I leave."

You listen to her talk. A part of you wonders what it would be like if she were your master. How would you contribute to her role. What would it be like to be there when people die.

"I'm not there for all of them. There are exceptions." She says. "Mad Hettie. And then there's your ongoing project."

You look up when she says that.

"How's he faring up after all this time?"

"Who? Hob Gadling?"

You smile. It's been a while since you saw Hob. You smile at all the times you would have to sit outside on the windowsill listening to Hob and Dream talk.

"I was forced to miss our last appointment." Dream tells her.

"Well, I'm sure he'd love to see you." Death looks at him. "Maybe take her with you. She could meet him properly."

Dream knows Death is talking about you.

"They're never too keen to see me, though."

"Does it not bother you?" Dream asks.

"I actually used to think I had the hardest job in all our family."

"Oh, did you?" Dreams looks amused.

"They fear the Sunless Lands, yet they enter your realm every night without fear."

"And yet I am far more terrible than you." He says.

You chuckle softly. He hears your laughter and smiles softly. He did that. He made you laugh.

They talk some more. A they do, you begin to wonder more about the world and the people. You've seen their dreams. Their hopes and fears.

You wouldn't mind spending more time among them, watching and learning.

You hear Death confess that she had thought about giving up. Dream looks bewildered by her statement.

You follow her into a house and find yourself freezing at the door. Morpheus sees the crib and then looks at you. Death gives you an apologetic look as she picks up the baby.

Morpheus comes to stand in front of you. You find yourself startled as he reaches for your hand. You look up at him.

The sound of wings fills the back of your mind.

Life was unfair sometimes.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

You nod silently.

His hand doesn't leave yours. Not even when you both leave the house with Death. You've fallen quieter than him. He keeps an eye on you as you walk. Your hand in his.

He remains beside you as you continue to follow Death. Dream learns a lot from his sister. He learns a lot about humanity. He learns a lot about you.

The way people react to his sister's gift. The way she smiles and gives them her hand.

Life and death.

He sees the way you watch her. The way you watch the people. Every single one is different. Different backgrounds, different releions, different stories.

He wonders if you like being human, or do you still prefer your feathers and your wings.

Eventually, you slowly start to make your way back to the park. You're wrapped your arm around Dream's, having not let go of him the entire time.

Death walks beside him, talking to him still.

"I used to think I had to do this all by myself."

"But you do."

"No. At the end, I'm there with them. I'm holding their hand and they're holding mine. I'm not alone when I'm doing my job. And neither are you. Think about it. The only reason we even exist, you and I, and Desire and Despair, the whole family. We're here to serve them."

Dream listens to her.

"It isn't about quests or finding purpose outside our function. Our purpose is pur function. We're here for them. Since I figured that out, I realised I need them as much as they need me."

Morpheus seems pleased by her words.

"I've seen so many cool things and people and worlds. I've learned so much. Lots of people don't have a job they love doing, do they? So, I think I'm really very lucky."

You smile. She liked her job. You like yours. You glance up at Morpheus, who looks like he's thinking. You like being his raven, his companion.

"Listen, I've got to head back soon."

Morpheus takes her hand with his free one and looks at his sister. "You've taught me something I have forgotten. I thank you, my sister."

Death smiles at Dream.

"Aw. That's what family's about, little brother."

Death turns her gaze to you, who still slings to her brother's arm. "Look after him, won't you?"

You smile. "Yeah. I will."

She then turns back to Dream. "And you look after her. You lost her once. Don't let her get harmed again."

"I have no intention of it," Dream says. He looks at you softly.

There's a screech of a car, and then Franklin comes over when he sees Death and starts talking to her. Dream smiles and starts guiding you away.

Death calls out to him. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

He nods and continues leading you away.

"Where are we going?" You ask softly.

"I'm late for an appointment, and I want you to come with me." He says.

You smile as you walk with him.

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @sitkafay - @snowsatsu - @ladyofdreaming - @thoughtsfromlayla - @modest-irish-goddess - @mystic-mara -

#when the raven calls #morpheus x reader #the sandman #female reader #dragon writes

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so-much-for-the-seashells · 5 months ago

Text

The Strawberry, The Sheriff, and the Cartel Sheriff Beau Arlen (Big Sky) x PI!Reader

Chapter One: Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!

****************************************************

~Before we Begin~

A/N: this is part one of an ongoing series. If you like the story and would like to be part of a tag list: please let me know, either through dm or comments. Still looking for a beta reader, dm if interested! :) Icons are by me! As always, any and all interaction is appreciated!

I really love Big Sky, even for all its faults. And to be honest, I was genuinely hoping for a season four. Since we aren’t getting that, I’m writing this. I’m no expert on PI/Detective work, but I’m doing my best. This is a work of fiction after all.

Anyway, I don’t want to spoil anything, so I’m not going to give any background and let the story speaks for itself. :)

Content/Content Warning: Nothing too crazy yet, but I’d rather a 16+ audience on this series for what might happen later. References to drugs and kidnapping. Cursing. Canon typical violence will occur.

~Without further ado, Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!~

****************************************************

Who commits real crimes in Montana, anyway? I guess I’d always figured that there wasn’t enough of us to do so in the first place. But, as it turns out, no place is too small for shitty people. Go figure.

Part of me has always hoped for a big case. Something high stakes, something that might actually make me think. I had always been resigned to the throes of missing pets and cheating partners. Maybe a B&E or a purse-snatching here and there to spice things up. Sure, those are still crimes, but a kidnapping tied to a cartel?

Now we’re talking.

Wait. That sounds bad. Of course I feel bad for the victims, I’m not a jackass. It’s just that this is where things in my career finally get interesting. Where if I solve the case, I’m solving something bigger than Whitefish. Which would really make me feel better about myself, if I’m being honest. I don’t really feel like I’ve made a difference with any the cases I’ve solved. Sure, it’s good to see Mary-Jane get her cat back or tell Kathy-Lee that James was in fact cheating on her and seeing her so liberated after breaking up with him. But none of that is bigger than Whitefish, where I’ve been since I was born. I needed something important, something big.

And this certainly is that something big.

Something big enough that I’ve had to travel almost seven hours from my hometown to Big Sky. Bertha, my truck, needed to get out of the house anyway. But seven hours… damn. Especially considering Whitefish could be renamed ‘Small Town’- I don’t think I’d had driven more than two hours till then.

Something big enough that literal drug cartels were involved.

No one would expect Montana to have so many ties to cartels. It’s so random, right? I mean, who even thinks about Montana in the first place aside from hikers and outdoorsy people? I know I wouldn’t if I didn’t live here. But I guess that’s the draw for these weird mob families. There’s not much of a radar to be on up here.

Big Sky had barely cleared out the Bhullar family maybe six months ago. A friend of mine, a fellow PI named Cassie Dewell, had told me all about it. She had been involved; her friend Undersheriff Jenny Hoyt had been one of the major players in taking them down. But in the end, as I understood it, the family had more or less taken themselves down. Serves them right.

But when one pot empties you’ve got to fill it with something new, I guess. That’s where I come in.

See, I’m a PI because I couldn’t be bothered with the how rule-abiding proper detectives have to be. Rules don’t get things done in the justice system, in my opinion. I’ve seen too many people either go down or get off when they shouldn’t because of it.

Rules are good guidelines, but just that- guidelines. Something to guide you, but not something that’s always right. If you want to get things done, you need a little more independence.

But with that independence comes cases that folks in the Sheriff’s Department wouldn’t even have come across their desks. Like the cheating, or the missing pets. So be it: I get paid more; and anyway, sometimes the “dumb” stuff is what’s best to get you ready for the “good” stuff.

María Almería had been the one to reach out to me. Her and Felix, her husband; as well as her three kids, Anna, Josue and Carolina; are neighbors of mine. They’re good people, and I’m pretty close with the family. I like them a lot, from the parents to the kids.

Usually I get hunches about people- its why I’m good at my job. When Kathy-Lee asked me to investigate her husband, I could’ve told her off the bat that he was cheating. Not because I’d explicitly seen him, but for whatever reason I could read it on him. It’s like a sixth sense.

That sense must’ve been dormant every time I went to the Almerías’, though, because I had never once gotten a bad vibe about Felix. María’s husband was always kind, a good father- his kids would attest to that, a good husband- María never once had anything bad to say about him, and he actually carried his weight around the house. Cleaned dishes, did laundry… yes, the bar is low, but he is certainly better than most of the fish in the world’s hellhole of a sea. Not to mention that he was always genuine: never a bad word about anyone or anything, not even about cockroaches (those damned things are my mortal enemy). And you could see that genuineness his eyes, which are usually what gives someone’s story away if you know how to look at them.

Honestly, he was the last person I was expecting to go missing. I couldn’t even fathom the thought of him having enemies. With most people in cases like these, there’s at least one aspect about them that makes their disappearance make sense. Maybe it’s in how they act, or maybe it’s in the people they were most often around. I could rule out the first one: Felix has never had any senility issues, nor would be one to be prone to just run away from his family with no explanation. But that leaves the second option, the harder one.

When you know your client and the person that’s gone missing, things are immediately both easier and harder. Easier in that you know the client, and they know and trust you. Sure, that’s not every case, but in this case I was 99% sure that María nor her young children had anything to do with his disappearance. You’ve always got to have that slight doubt though, even if it’s just one percent. That’s detective work rule #1.

But in the same breath, it also makes it harder- the expectations and the stakes are higher. And also, you realize just how much you don’t know about people.

I had exhausted my every resource in Whitefish for a week, but there was absolutely no trace of Felix. María had even called him in missing to me before she could to the police- damn the wait 48 hours rule- and yet I still couldn’t get the jump on the blues.

The story was that María had taken her daughters clothes shopping while Josue was staying over at a friend’s for a sleepover. When they came home, Felix was gone. However, his phone was sitting on the table and his wallet and keys still on their kitchen counter, and the idea of him not taking any of those things was preposterous. He was one to always have them on him. That was why she called him in as missing after he didn’t return for a few hours. Her and her kids’ alibis checked out with both me and eventually the Whitefish Sheriff’s Department.

While researching Felix I had come across the name Bobby Ramirez. They had been in a news article together, set in Big Sky. And something about this Bobby, even from the pictures, didn’t seem right. His smile was just a little too crooked, his eyes betraying something stronger than mischief.

When I had asked María about his next of kin, she had said there was no one. But this Bobby looked so similar to Felix, to the point that I just had to ask. Apparently Bobby Ramirez’s real name is Roberto Almería, and he’s Felix’s estranged brother who lives in Big Sky. Never would’ve guessed.

Apparently the brothers had had a terrible relationship because, in María’s words, Bobby is “a nightmare.” I didn’t really get much more information than that, but the look in her eyes told me more than enough, along with the fact that she was visibly trembling. And the last time she saw him, before she even had kids, he had talked about going into a lucrative business (presumably drugs- fentanyl, maybe?) and promptly dropped off the grid. He’d asked Felix to join him and he had given a hard no, and I guess the falling out was so bad that the kids didn’t even know they had an uncle on their dad’s side. Once she had even gotten the feeling that Bobby could be involved in this, she begged me to back off. Even though her beloved husband was at risk, she begged me to back off. But I couldn’t: this family had shown so me far too much kindness in the past for me to just give up on Felix.

Bobby Ramirez apparently owns a repair shop in Big Sky. Bob’s Motors. Super creative, I know. It’s been open for about ten years- probably since around the time of the falling out. But from the shitty reviews online I have a good feeling it’s a front, since it’s still open, and the best lead I’ve got. María had mentioned that Bobby was in with a weird crowd, and that he was friends with Kory Jefferson. That’s where the presumed drug involvement comes in.

Kory, or KJ as he’s known on the streets, was and is bad news. He’s managed to weasel his way out of at least five arrests despite being a part of multiple drug cases. You know how? By being a CI for the police against his own employers in exchange for full immunity. It’s honestly impressive how many times he’s gotten away with the stunt, but I guess people wrongly figured him to be unimportant. Bobby being tied to him and Felix going missing just as KJ was buying mass property in Big Sky… it’s too much of a coincidence not to investigate.

Hence, the seven hour drive in the truck I’ve had fifteen years. Got it at the end of high school, a gift from my dad. But she was only supposed to last ten years. Emphasis on supposed to, cause my intention is to run her until she drops dead.

Thankfully my dad was a mechanic and he taught me how to fix just about any problem with the engine and the car in general. So, just like a truck that’s actually within its warranty, the only thing I usually have to worry about is me being a dumbass.

And a dumbass I am.

I had wisely decided to test the limits of the infamous last bar of gas- look, I only had to stop once so I was thinking maybe I could make it.

I thought wrong.

“Whoops,” is what I most definitely did not say when my car actually stopped just a few miles beyond the “Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!” sign. What I really said was a string of profanities so colorful and vulgar that I genuinely would rather not repeat them. I had smacked the hazards button, and then stepped outside and kicked the tire with enough force to almost break my toe, because one dumb decision wasn’t enough for me that day.

So yeah, that’s about where we are right now. I’m standing outside of my car with one hand on my hip and the other holding my phone, weighing my options. The nearest gas station is naturally twenty miles away, and one thing’s for sure is that I’m no marathoner. It would probably take me until tomorrow to get there. On the other hand, I could do the normal thing and call a tow truck. But if there’s anything my frugal mother taught me, it’s that you shouldn’t pay for anything unless you absolutely have to. I don’t necessarily agree with that, but it’s sort of ingrained in me, and in this instance, I don’t really want to call a skeevy tow trucker.

Of course; there’s always the third, very rational option: I turn into the Hulk and push the truck. Obviously that’s the most plausible of the three.

Just as I’m getting ready to be a normal person and figure out a towing service to call does a sign of life appear. Up until now, somehow, literally nobody had passed through this road. It’s another truck, burgundy and bulky.

I wave, my face still stuck in a scowl as the driver approaches. It rolls to a halt near me on the opposite side of the road, before the hazards flash and the driver steps out.

“Car troubles, I’m assuming?” a strong Texan drawl greets me.

“You’re assuming correctly,” I smile sarcastically, taking in the stranger. He’s handsome, classically so, and he sure does fill out those Wranglers. Looks straight out of a Clint Eastwood movie, sans the cowboy hat.

“What seems to be the issue?” he cocks his head cordially, taking a step closer. Normally I’d be one to back away, but I don’t have a bad feeling about this guy. He’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t read his eyes, but something tells me I don’t have to.

“Ran out of gas,” I mumble, more than a little embarrassed to be admitting it out loud.

“Hey, we’ve all been there,” he assures me. “Do you want me to take you to get gas?”

“I don’t usually step into stranger’s trucks,” I tell him warily. As kind as he seems I can never be too sure. Ever.

“Well if it helps any, I’m the Sheriff around these parts.” He pulls his jacket to reveal more of his belt, showing off his Sheriff’s badge pinned to it. He taps it once, for emphasis. Oh, wait, this must be… “Beau Arlen,” he introduces, interrupting my thoughts. He outstretches a hand and I shake it. His hand is huge compared to mine, callused but still soft somehow.

“Your reputation precedes you, Sheriff Arlen,” I tell him, letting go of his hand.

“That so?” It’s endearing how he perks up at that.

“I’m friends with Cassie Dewell,” I explain.

“Oh! Cass is the best! How do you know her?”

“I’m a PI- we all know each other.”

“Huh, y’don’t say.”

“What, you sheriffs aren’t like that?”

“Can’t say we are.”

“Shame,” I say melodramatically. He chuckles.

“Can’t all be PI’s, now can we?”

“True that.”

“Soo, that ride?” he tilts his head towards his truck.

“Yes, thank you,” I say sincerely.

“Anytime.” I follow him back over the middle line of the road to his truck, where he opens the door for me and offers an arm to help me step up. Huh, chivalry. Refreshing.

He stars his truck and drives a little down the road to make a u-turn before presumably heading towards the nearest gas station

“So what brings you to Big Sky?” he asks, making small talk.

“A case, actually… it’ll probably be on your radar soon enough. I’m thinking cartel, not a hundred percent sure yet.” I decide to keep the details to myself; there’s just too much at stake here.

“Another cartel? In this county? Y’know the last one ended with the boy killing his pops. And the pops had left the kid for dead too. Not to mention that the daughter was a pain in our ass, moonlighting as a real estate agent… but don’t get Hoyt started on that Tonya ‘cause she still can’t stand the sight of her… sorry, I’m ramblin,’” there’s a faint blush on the apples of his cheeks, and it’s adorable. But frankly I don’t mind his chatter, he’s nice to listen to. I like how he gets lost in his own stories.

“No worries, I like listening,” I shrug. My dad always said ‘listening lets you hear the things you wouldn’t’a heard if you weren’t.’ It’s sort of a ‘no shit’ phrase, but it’s true.

“There’s a first- Cass and Jenny like to get on me for talking too much,” he muses, no offense in his voice.

“That’s ’cause they don’t know ‘too much.’ I once had a client who told me his entire life story from birth to present day,” I reminisce, not even hyperbolizing. “I learned all about the std he got from a prostitute back in the 60s at Woodstock, and about his five wives: Maryanne, Georgia, Gina, Kevin, and Sade.”

“Kevin?” he laughs incredulously, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at me.

“Yep. That was during the eighties though, so apparently it doesn’t make him gay,” I laugh, knowing how ridiculous it sounds.

“Wait, what was the STD?”

“Chlamydia,” I answer, without missing a beat.

“Wow, you have a good memory, huh?”

“Just for cases.” Which is true: in my daily life I would probably forget my head if it wasn’t attached to the rest of my body. I genuinely couldn’t tell you what I ate yesterday, but I do know that at 11:25 am I booked the motel I’ll be staying at. You know why I know that? Because I had just made the KJ break. See?

“That’s damn useful in your line of work,” he compliments.

“Yeah.” We ride in silence for a little bit because my dumb ass can’t hold a conversation. It’s not my fault that my only friends are my mom. Well, and Cassie Dewell, I guess, but I don’t see her all that often.

“Okay, so the accent- Texas?” I ask. Trying to bring back the conversation.

“Born and raised,” he confirms, emphasizing his drawl. I smile at the effort. I like his drawl, it compliments the deep and roughness of his voice.

“Cowboy country, nice,” I say.

“Hey, not all of us are cowboys!” he defends playfully.

“The first thing I thought when I saw you was ‘cowboy,’” I tell him matter-of-factly.

“Touché,” he laughs. “Truth be told I was literally raised on a ranch, so I can’t really be talking. Y’know, I had a really nice dog named Juniper. She herded the cattle, while I would pretend to “help.” By “help” I mean stand towards the side, scared of getting stomped on cause I weighed little more than a plastic bag from the grocery store.” More stories- I have a feeling he could write a book.

“Puberty must’ve hit you like a truck,” I mused, referring to the last part of his story.

“That or the gym,” he laughs.

“You a gym rat, Sheriff?”

“More or less,” he takes one hand off the steering wheel to flex his jacket-covered bicep. I wolf whistle, and he laughs. He’s a very large man, from his stature to his statuesque physique.

“Is there even a gym around here? I feel like I’m in the middle of nowhere, and I’m from fucking Whitefish,” I joke, referring to the fact that the only signs of life we’ve encountered are the gorgeous trees bordering the open road.

“Preaching to the choir,” he smiles.

“So, why’d you stick around, then? I heard you were just an acting sheriff,” I inquire, wondering why the cowboy-or anyone, for that matter- would want to stay here.

“I’ve got my ghosts in Houston,” his voice turns subtly melancholic, telling me not to pry. So I don’t, knowing the feeling. “But back to your question, there is a gym,” his tone returns back to its lightheartedness.

“It’s abandoned, isn’t it.”

“Well, there’s me. And uh, me. And sometimes Denise, who I think just wants an excuse to see my ass,” he laughs.

“Denise Brisbane? From Dewell and Hoyt?” I only know the name, nothing more.

“Yeah, she’s sweet- she cooks for me too, even though I’m a grown ass man.”

“Someone’s got a fan club,” I tease.

“Population one,” he retorts.

“Well maybe I’ll see you or you and Denise there at some point.”

“I’d like that… hey, you’re not joining the fan club are you?” he raises a brow from behind his sunglasses.

“In your dreams, Sheriff,” we both smile, and sit back for a second, the silence less awkward this time, at least for me.

“Y’can call me Beau, y’know. If you want to, anyway,” he tells me, breaking the half a second of quiet.

“Mk, Beau it is.” I like the way his name feels coming out of my mouth. And what a fitting name it is… he is objectively gorgeous.

“Hey, I just realized I never got yours,” he says suddenly.

“Huh? My what?” I say confused. Look, the road trip’s got me exhausted.

“Your name,” he clarifies.

“Oh. It’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N- that’s a really nice name,” he compliments.

“Thanks,” I can’t help but be flattered.

“Where’s it from?”

“My dad- it was the name of some book character.”

“Cool! That’s a lot more creative than how my kid got named,” he laughs.

“You have a kid?” I ask, mildly surprised. Not that I think he’d be a bad dad after the half hour of knowing him, but just because since I don’t have kids I don’t usually expect people my age to either.

“Mhm. Emily- she takes after her mom, though.”

“You’re married?” I don’t see a ring, that’s the only reason I’m asking.

“I was.” There’s that melancholy tone again… something tells me there’s more to this cordial cowboy than meets the eye.

“Well in any case, Emily’s a pretty name for what I’m sure is a beautiful daughter,” I say, changing the subject.

“You callin’ me handsome?” he teases.

“All I’m going to say is that your mama was real on the nose with the name… Beauregard.” I decide to mix the compliment a little bit.

“You really think that’s my name?”

“No,” I confess, giggling.

“Good, I was hopin’ I didn’t come across as a”-he shudders comedically-“Beauregard.”

“Cmon, it’s not the worst name,” I chide.

“Well it’s certainly far from the best,” he retorts, and I shake my head with a smile. “Alright, we’re coming up on it now.”

I look up ahead, taking in the sight of this gas station that’s literally the only building in sight. It’s a bit on the dinghy side, half of the letters in the neon sign don’t work, so it says “De Ass Ton” instead of Del’s Gas Station. Go figure for this town.

But wait…

“What the fuck?” we both say in unison, taking in the sight before us.

****************************************************

Until Part Two, dear reader! <3

#beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen fanfiction #big sky #big sky show #Jensen Ackles #fanfic #ongoing series #hehe #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction

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persephone-writes · 29 days ago

Text

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Six: Portraits Talk

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Five - Chapter Seven ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: Sirius attempts to quell your anger, though the pressure of acting aloof threatens to topple you.

Word Count: 4.3k

Notes: I slipped in some 70s weed slang for peak historical accuracy because I am a serious author with a serious subject matter. Also next chapter is some fun lil James stuff :)

You ran down the dormitory staircase into the Common Room, Marlene’s frantic steps following behind. You made a beeline to Dorcas and Mary, who were sitting at one of the small tables, your words half-dazed and rushing out in quick succession, “Have you guys seen Sirius?”

Mary’s eyes darted from yours to Dorcas, then back to you.

Dorcas tilted her head, a smile beginning to pull up on one side of her mouth. “Why in such a rush?”

Your expression hardened, boring into Dorcas’s eyes with a determination you had not felt in quite some time. “You haven’t seen him, then?”

Dorcas paused, glancing behind you at Marlene. “He left with the guys about a half hour ago,” said said, leaning back into her chair. “They said something about the Slytherin dorm–”

You turned on your heels before she could finish her sentence, leaving through the portrait hole without another word. No one followed as you pressed forward, flying along the west face of the castle and down the steps by the Astronomy Tower to the third floor. Ahead, you pushed aside the tapestry hanging on the wall into the shortcut to the dungeons, casting Lumos to light your way.

As you began to cool off from your all-encompassing rage, you wondered what you actually planned on doing to Sirius once you found him. You forced yourself to stop walking, lowering your wand and darkening the area in front of you as you mulled over your options. A swirl of hexes and jinxes clouded your mind, though none seemed good enough punishment for his indefensible intrusion. Entirely preoccupied with all the spells your professors had warned you to never perform unless during a formal, supervised duel, you nearly didn’t notice the sound of footsteps moving ahead of you.

Doing the first thing that came to mind, you pointed your wand into the shadows. “Colloshoo!”

The sound of hands smacking against the floor, followed by a high-pitched yelp ensued. The person muttered cursed to himself, the voice sounding eerily familiar. You cast Lumos again, finding Sirius half bent over himself, his hair falling over his face. He looked up, gray eyes meeting yours.

“The Stickfast Hex? Really?” Sirius pointed his wand towards his feet and performed the counter-curse, checking the underside of his shoes when he was finally unstuck.

“I ought to do it again,” you called, watching him closely as he neared you. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, tucking his hair behind his ears as he looked you up and down.

“I asked you first.”

“If you must know,” he began, twirling his wand for a moment, “I was getting rid of the dungbombs Prongs bought me. Felt a little juvenile, but they were burning a hole in my pocket. I’d avoid the dungeons for a few hours, if I were you.”

You lifted your chin, eyeing his smirk in an attempt to tell if he was lying. As usual, you were unable to come to a solid conclusion.

“And where are the others?” you questioned, peeking behind him to see that the passage was empty, or at the very least the visible portion.

His posture shifted into something cocky, his mouth twitching with a devilish delight. “Why? Miss someone?”

You took a step back and pointed your wand at Sirius again. He only laughed, his own wand remaining by his side. The pit of indignation in your stomach grew stronger at the sight of his ease.

“Why did you check to see where I was on the map? And why did you interrogate the bloody portraits?”

He shrugged. “I saw you and McKinnon leave in a hurry, I guess I got curious. Then I saw you stop under Lady Decima, who's a bit of a chatter, by the way. She's had a soft spot for me ever since I hexed Mulciber over by her a few years back. He was being quite the little prick,” he paused, sizing you up once more. “Portraits talk, you know.”

“Portraits talk? Portraits talk?” Sirius hadn’t seemed to expect you to grow so upset, your wand still pointing between his eyes. He took a minute step backward, the grip on his own wand growing tighter. “If I thought I could take you in a duel, Black, you’d be dead.”

“Hey, hey.” He pushed your wand down a fraction, his smile a bit less mischievous. “I didn’t tell him anything. He’s just as clueless as he was before. Though, now that I’m privy, you are a bit obvious—”

“Locomotor Wibbly!” Sirius’s legs buckled beneath him, falling down in a wiggling mass to the floor. The sight of his gelatinous legs made you smile, especially when he looked up at you from below.

“Merlin, L/N!” Sirius shouted, quickly performing another counter-curse as you watched him struggle. He stood up with a hand against the wall, still a bit shaky. “It seems like you very much want to duel me.”

You huffed, spinning around and facing away from him. Some of your seething anger had dissipated, leaving your embarrassment to fester in its place. Heat rose to your cheeks and you covered your face with your hands. You weren’t sure how much more of his teasing you could handle, especially when you only had Marlene to complain to.

Sirius said nothing, presumably staring at your down turned head. After a moment, he said your name softly, though you made no move to acknowledge him. He stepped forward, inching his way until he was right behind you. “I…I mean, I didn’t mean to…”

“I know you’re having a tough time right now, but do you have to pick on me ?” you said, defeated for the time being. You turned to face him, seeing that his mouth, which was once in a clever smirk, now had fallen. He reached a hand up as if to place it on your arm, though it stayed hovering, never touching you.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I didn’t know it would upset you this much.”

“How could you not?” your voice was clipped again, sharp against the silence of the passage. You discovered that you did, in fact, have some anger left, and the will to fight.

Sirius shook his head to himself. “Lady Decima made it sound like–”

“What? Like some school girl crush?”

“Yeah, kinda,” the humor you expected from him was not present. There was only guilt lacing his words, and maybe a good deal of shock. “Are you in love with him?” he asked.

You breathed fast through your nose, the question sinking heavy in your chest. It was an anchor you had been avoiding for quite some time. “I don’t know,” you whispered.

He hummed, tight-lipped with narrow, curious eyes. “You don’t know?”

“Yeah,” you barked. “I can’t really tell. I’ve never been in love before, you know.”

“Well, neither have I,” he said, matching your tone. “But I think I’d know if I were.”

“You’re impossible,” you mumbled, harshly rubbing at your eyes. When you took your hands away, you saw Sirius was glancing around the passage. He sighed as his attention returned to you.

“What’re you going to do about it?”

You wondered why you confronted him at all, realizing that it wasn’t doing you any good. You should have stuck to your original plan, let it pass . He was waiting for you to speak, so you said the only honest thing you could, “I don’t know.”

“You’re very indecisive, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, now more annoyed with him than you were angry. Your hands came up to your face again, though they didn’t stay for long, fidgeting around at your sides before they stilled. Figuring you had already laid all your cards out, you decided that asking Sirius for a favor wouldn’t exactly hurt.

“Can I ask you something?” He nodded, giving you a look to carry on. “Do you think, I don’t know…James doesn’t feel the same, right?”

Sirius sighed heavily, eyes drifting away. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask me that.”

Your heart dropped despite expecting as much. “So he doesn’t,” you said to yourself, solidifying it in your mind. You pushed the ache in your chest away, taking a single shaking breath. Maybe now, you could finally get over it. Maybe now, it wouldn't be so hard to--

“I never said that.”

Another rush went through you, a vague glimmer of hope. You quickly tampered it down, remembering Sirius’s earlier deceit. “What?”

“Honestly? I have no fucking idea if he fancies you. Ever since he and Lily broke up, he doesn’t say shite about girls. At first it was fantastic, not having to hear his constant bitching. Now I kind of miss it. Less material to work with.”

“What a mate you are.”

“Oi! Did I tell him about your little infatuation?” He raised his brows, his smirk returning.

“I am not infatuated with him."

“Sure,” he drawled, pausing for a beat. “Really though, I have no bloody clue how he feels. If I knew, I’d tell you.”

“I’m not sure if I believe you,” you mumbled.

He threw his hands up with a huff. “I don’t know what to tell you, sweetheart. I’m trying to be nice here.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.”

He grinned, his teeth shining in the light from his wand. “Why? Only Jamie gets to call you that?”

With a flick of your wand, his legs were tripped out from underneath him. For a third time, he scowled up at you from the floor.

“Godric , will you stop doing that?”

“Yeah, when you stop being a git,” you snapped.

Sirius stood, still grouchy from his fall. Your steely eyes had not softened, even when he rubbed his leg. “You’re lucky I’m feeling kind today. I could retaliate.”

‘Whatever.” You turned to walk back through the passage the way you came, Sirius running up behind you and falling in pace at your side.

“Are you really gonna stay miffed?” You didn’t answer, staring forward. “Fine. Want me to bribe you with grass?’ You stopped, turning to stare at him with narrowed eyes. He smiled back, sharp as always. “It’s from Maxwell. Got it from muggle London this Christmas.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You stood in the corridor, arms crossed and glancing sideways at the portrait of the Fat Lady. Sirius had gone inside a few minutes prior, though you were already growing antsy. You paced back and forth, listening to the Fat Lady’s untalented singing voice fill the corridor with a cacophony of flat notes. You paused as the portrait swung open, finding it was Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary that emerged, not Sirius. A brief moment passed in which you all looked at one another, blank faced and without a word.

“Hey,” Marlene said finally. “What’re you doing?”

Your eyes drifted back to the portrait hole for a moment, knowing how odd you were about to sound and hoping they wouldn’t press you for details. “Waiting for Sirius.” You narrowed your eyes when Dorcas hummed, giving you the same intrigued look she had earlier. “What?” you asked.

As Dorcas was about to speak, the portrait hole opened again. Sirius stepped through, holding up a small purple bag, tied off with thin, golden rope. He was smiling triumphantly until he saw the three others, dropping his pouch to his side.

“Hello, ladies,” he began, strolling past them. “Where are we off to this evening?”

Marlene laughed, looking between you two, then towards the bag in his hand. “Where are you off to?”

“L/N and I have a study date, if you really must know. She's helping me with potions,” he said, cool as ever. If he wasn’t telling it to Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary, someone might have actually believed him.

You rolled your eyes, pulling at his arm. “C’mon, Casanova, the Drought of Living Death isn’t going to brew itself.” You led him away, Sirius smiling back at the others who all stood around in perplexity. Once you were out of sight you dropped his arm, turning to him with a huff. “Potions, really? That’s your best subject, you git.”

“I’m sorry ,” he said, continuing forward without you. “Couldn’t tell them what we’re really doing. Then, everyones gonna want in on it. I can’t start giving up the goods now .”

“Whatever. Where are we even going?” you said, following him as he took a right towards the staircase.

“The Mirror Passage,” he said, his steps slow and without much urgency. “Can’t go to the RoR since it doesn’t show up on the map, and who knows where the others are. I figured they’d meet me at the Common Room.”

“Weird.”

“I can always count on you for a witty remark now and then,” said Sirius before pausing a moment. “And who the fuck is Casanova?”

“I can’t believe you bullied me into sharing,” Sirius said with a shake of his head. You both sat on the ground of the cave-like room a quarter of the way into the Mirror Passage, your wands lying in front of you to illuminate the space. The stone ground was much too cold for your liking, but you decided not to complain.

“You’re lucky I’ve decided not to hex you again,” you said, Sirius laughing when you began to cough. You recovered, shooting him a pointed glare. “I’m still upset, though.”

He raised his brows, reaching out his hand and wiggling his fingers. “I think I did you a favor.”

“Yeah, keeping me up at night for a week straight,” you grumbled, passing the joint to him.

“I keep you up at night?”

“With anxiety,” you grumbled.

He passed it back, looking around the passage as if there was something interesting to behold. In reality, it was only dark, somewhat dank, and incredibly boring. “Maybe now you’ll actually do something for once.”

“You’re a real arsehole, you know that?” you said, soon coughing again. You gave Sirius a preemptive scowl, though it only made him laugh more.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied, completely unfazed.

You couldn’t be sure how long you and Sirius remained alone, though the joint had been entirely spent when you heard multiple sets of footsteps from down the passage. You both shared a glance, Sirius grabbing his wand and pointing it ahead of him. It was enough to light a few meters in front of you, but nothing more. Just as you went to pick up your own wand, a voice rang out from the darkness.

“Are you decent?” called Peter, his voice echoing a bit along the walls. You could hear soft murmurs erupt after, presumably from James and Remus.

“Yes, you gits,” Sirius said, watching as Peter ran up the passage and into the light. Behind him, James and Remus walked forward stiff as boards, their eyes darting from Sirius over to you.

“What did you think we were doing?” you laughed awkwardly, attempting to meet Peter’s eyes, though he would not allow it. A faint blush appeared on James’s cheeks as he shared a glance with Remus.

“Snogging,” answered Remus plainly, causing your ears to heat like two frying pans on the sides of your head. Remus furrowed his brows, his head shooting towards Sirius on the floor. “Did you smoke without us?”

“Yes,” Sirius drawled, moving to stand up.

Your head was rather hazy, blurring your inhibitions enough to look straight at James, who had a stray curl sticking up on the top of his head. “Hey,” was all you could muster, mouth gone dry.

“Getting high without me?” he asked, a smile beginning to grow as he looked down at you.

You shrugged. “Didn’t know where you were,” you paused, starting to laugh as the situation became increasingly amusing. “Did you see us both up here on the map?”

James nodded, his gaze ripped from yours once again. He rubbed his lips together, the floor becoming rather interesting to him.

“Well, couldn’t you tell we weren’t snogging?” you asked, laughter persisting.

“It’s considered rude to spy, and ill-advised,” said Remus, “lest we be scarred for life.”

“Well, we definitely were not snogging,” you stated quite assuredly, nodding at the end to punctuate your point. You stood, moving to follow Sirius who had begun leaving the passage.

“You deny it so quickly,” Sirius said in offense, voice a bit higher pitched than normal. He ran a hand along the wall, his fingers bumping against the uneven stone.

“Can’t blame her,” mumbled Remus.

Your attention returned to James who was walking beside you, the corners of his lips tilted up as he watched you come down from your laughter.

“Something funny?” you asked.

“Never been around you like this before when I’m sober.” He bumped your shoulder, studying you as if you were a specimen in CoMC. If it were anyone else, you would have minded. “It’s a little odd.”

You didn’t know what to say, eyeing his wayward curl and longing to smooth it down. You wished it were normal to do that for a friend, wondering if you could blame it on your altered state.

Remus peaked out of the passage, moving behind the mirror and checking the vacant classroom. On the far wall, desks were piled up against and growing dust, a few old candlesticks strewn here and there.

Remus glanced back, nodding in affirmation and you all stepped out. Your hands rubbing at your eyes as you adjusted to the light from the candles, charmed to burn until curfew. You hit James softly on the arm when he laughed at you, your head growing more and more fuzzy the longer he smiled.

As you all moved ahead, your heart dropped, the sight out of the corner of your eye enough to make your stomach churn. Your head snapped away as you saw a head of curly brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and two dazzling smiles. You had seen it before when you came in, though now it was too much. Then, you kept your eyes low, but the urge to spin around and stare into the mirror was overpowering.

Your own smile had completely vanished, replaced with a tight jaw as you resisted the temptation to stand in front of the mirror for hours on end. James placed a hand on your upper back, causing you to jerk away, your eyes snapping to his. He took it away instantly, a crease forming between his brows.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly. “You look like you’ve seen a troll.”

The other three turned around to look at you as Remus opened the classroom door, beginning to peek out.

“Yeah,” Sirius began with a smirk, shifting his weight to one leg, “she’s seen you.”

James’s eyes moved over to Sirius briefly before returning to you, the joke doing nothing to quench his concern.

“Just got a little too high,” you began, hating the feeling of four pairs of eyes on you all at once.

“Happens to the best of us, sweetheart,” Sirius said, peering over Remus’s shoulders into the corridor. Remus opened the door fully, allowing everyone to step out.

You all walked in relative silence for a while, navigating the Swiveling Staircase with a masterful ease. It was nearing curfew and a handful of students were making their way back to their Common Rooms. A gaggling group of Hufflepuff’s descended the staircase past you, a Prefect saying hello to James and Remus. Her eyes were sharp, though notably kind, passing over you with a distinctive curiosity. You hated the way she looked at James, as if she was fond of him, as if she was his friend. She probably was. The idea that someone like James probably had dozens of girls wanting to go out with him made your chest tight, so aching it nearly crushed you completely.

In your rumination over the nature of James’s relationships with the various Prefects in which he led, you had forgotten seven years worth of carefully practiced menuevers, your foot falling through one of the vanishing steps. Your hand caught on the marble railing, though the brunt of the work was done by James, who placed both hands on your waist and hoisted you up again. Your foot found the safety of the following step, allowing you to release a sharp breath of relief. Peter, Remus, and Sirius stopped, turning to stare at you. You barely noticed that James was still holding you until you caught Sirius’s smirk. You quickly turned to James with a thankful smile. He dropped his hands, eyes leaving yours.

“Are you all right?” Peter asked. You nodded, taking another step forward. Everyone followed suit, Sirius looking back over his shoulder with the same expression as before.

“Remind me never to get you high again,” he said. “You clearly aren’t cut out for it.”

“You really are an ass,” you grumbled, causing James to snicker a bit beside you.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

When you walked into the Common Room, Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary were nowhere to be found, and neither was Lily, though that was to be expected. Slug Club got special permission to be out after curfew, though this did nothing to persuade Sirius to join. When he got the little green invitation, he completely incinerated it without a word, happy to see Slughorn’s signature burn away into ashes.

“So,” you began, throwing yourself in the large armchair by the fire, “how’s Seraphina?”

Sirius shook his head as you all snickered at his expense. “She’s fine , if you’re really interested. But no matter how much you beg, you’re getting none of the details, you degenerate.”

He sat on the couch next to Peter in Remus, James perching himself on the arm. His foot brushed the floor as it swung back and forth, stilling every once in a while for no discernable reason.

“She didn’t dump you for smoking?” you asked.

“My dashing good looks overpowered it,” Sirius said with a roguish, confident smile.

“I saw her outside of the Library the other day,” said Peter. “She called me Dexter.”

You all fell into a fit of laughter, Sirius’s smile fading into a mild grimace. You looked towards James without really realizing, his face charmingly animated, glasses reflecting the flickering flames of the fireplace.

“I never said she was perfect ,” said Sirius, a smile beginning to poke out. “And you lot can’t say anything. Let me remind you, you’re all single.”

“That is not a qualifying factor to point out some very real concerns,” you said, leaning towards him and laughing at your own choice of phrasing.

Sirius crossed his arms, a single finger wagging. “Just because you’re unlucky in love–

“I am not unlucky,” you scoffed, sitting back in your armchair.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Sirius said with a shrug.

Something unusual came over you, much like it had in the passageway earlier, though far bolder. Maybe it was the pet name, or maybe it was the way he was looking at you so smugly. More likely, it was the embarrassment that came with him saying such a thing in front of James, knowing it would get you going.

You reached into your pocket and grabbed your wand, pointing at Sirius. He soon began sneezing uncontrollably, the others erupting in a new fit of wild laughter.

“You– ach –little– ach –piece– ach –of–!” he couldn’t finish, caught up in a burst of particularly violent sneezes.

Remus flicked his wand and ended the hex, shaking his head. You wished he had let it go on for just a little while longer, the git deserved it.

“What is with you, L/N?” Sirius whined, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. “So touchy today.”

“C’mon, that was a good one,” you defended, trying to hold back your snickering.

“Bloody fantastic,” James agreed. “One for the ages.”

You finally looked towards him, growing shy as he smiled proudly at you. It was dangerous, the way you coveted his good opinion. You remembered Sirius’s earlier words: I have no fucking idea if he fancies you. There it was again, foolish, folly hope.

Suddenly and without warning, Remus shot a burst of fire from his mouth, the eruption of flames causing you to jump with an unintended yelp. “ Godric , Remus!”

Remus balled up the Pepper Imps wrapper in his hand, tossing it up in the air and catching it with a grin. “My bad.”

“You’re easy to scare,” James chuckled. “I’m gonna use that, you know.”

“Well, now I’m going to be ready for it. It would’ve been better if you hadn’t told me,” you said, your head growing fuzzy like it had last Saturday. Your limbs, too, felt impossibly light, as if you could float up to the ceiling if you tried hard enough. A particularly hearty laugh out of Remus broke you from this trance like a stream of ice-cold water from the Great Lake dumped over your head. The impending doom of your situation became apparent. After last Saturday, you were unable to trust yourself to keep your own secrets. Sirius didn’t seem too keen on helping you keep them, either.

You glanced down at your wristwatch without really reading the time, sighing as if you were disappointed. In a way, you were.

“I should go,” you said, standing from your chair. James popped up from his spot on the arm of the sofa, his brows furrowed.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Y/N?” The concern in his voice was unhidden, an unintentional, powerful guilt trip. You nearly told him everything. Nearly . Instead, you nodded, trying to smile the best you could.

“I’m fine. Promise.”

With that you rushed off, walking up the steps to the girl’s dormitory at a normal, ordinary pace. However, once you were out of sight, you began to sprint to your room, the sight of your dormitory door like the gates of a sanctuary.

Chapter Seven

#james potter x reader #james potter/reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter series #james potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era #marauders fandom #james potter #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter angst

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kayharrisons · 2 months ago

Text

It's a goddamn blaze in the dark, and you started it [Bjorn x afab! Reader] [Part 1 of ??]

Your best friend takes you and your friends home with him for spring break, his homeland is idyllic... and things are not what they seem.

A/N: may or may not have been inspired by the excellent lil server I'm in ehehehe this is a crossover with the movie Midsommar! So, warning, things are going to get VERY fucked up as this story progresses!! Happy spooky season gang :) title from Ivy by Taylor Swift! This is a p short chapter, mostly set up tbh!!

Warnings: manipulation, cults, obsession, murder, violence, pregnancy mentions, incest, sex, coercion, basically everything that happens in Midsommar my dudes

"Promise, it'll be fun," Tyler reassures you, grinning that charming grin of his. "A little break away from all of this is exactly what you need."

"I know," you sigh, from your pile of blankets. Your boyfriend had been messaging other girls. Tyler had sheepishly come to you one day, explaining the situation to you, feeling that as your best friend he couldn't keep such a thing from you. You both loved and hated him for it, and then hated yourself for hating a sweet guy like Tyler, all because he'd exposed your shitty boyfriend and taken off your rose tinted glasses. "I just- with rent and my loans and my car- I don't know how I could afford it, Ty-"

He gives you an impish grin. You stare at him.

"You didn't."

"Well-"

"Oh my GOD, Tyler!"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Tyler hails from a small town in Sweden, though he had gone back and forth between there and England until he was around 9. He has a little sister, a bunch of cousins, and his parents died not too long before he came to the States for college. He'd been head of the family since the age of sixteen, which while he acknowledged was a burden, he did seem prideful of.

"Kay's great," he explains to you one evening, Chinese food on your coffee table and Friends marathoning in the background. "Honestly my pride and joy, y'know? She just told me she's pregnant, actually, I'd like to see her during spring break- baby should be born by then, I think."

He seems so thrilled at the unclehood before him, and it makes sense, you suppose. From what he'd said of his town, it was very "takes a village" when it comes to raising children.

He has a girlfriend, too, Rain. Well, technically Marie, but she'd been called Rain ever since she was seven. You admire his devotion to the girl, even from across the world.

"We're raised to be devoted to our lovers," he explains to you another night, sipping from a beer. "Respectful. It's something I've found... well, a little lackin' over here. I don't get it, personally. How can any man look upon the woman he claims to love and not feel the upmost devotion to her?"

You remember laughing, bitterly, at that. Remember joking about going with him and finding one of his townspeople to spend your life with.

Tyler's eyes had lit up at that, his smile almost catlike as he studied you. "You seem like my cousin Bjorn's type." he'd teased (or so you'd thought), and you had giggled and shoved his arm. If your picture happens to be taken when you're fast asleep on your couch, if it happens to be sent in a text to the cousin in question...

Well, it's not as though you're any wiser about it.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Tyler manages to get a handful of his other friends to join you both on the trip.

Your ex boyfriend is one of them.

"I'm so sorry," Tyler whispers to you, guilt radiating off of him. "I tried to get him not to go but- I asked before the breakup and he's just-"

"It's fine," you say, stonily. "These things happen, Ty. I'm a big girl, I can take it."

He nods, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "I was worried you wouldn't come, if I told you."

"Probably wouldn't have." You agree, watching him rub the back of his neck, watching him scan your friends faces.

"Truth be told," he murmurs, nudging you lightly. "I would've preferred it be just you and me. But... well, the more the merrier, right? My people practically live that motto."

You snort, nudging him back. He grins, teeth glinting in the fluorescent light of the airport waiting room.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Tyler's home is gorgeous.

Luscious green grass, crystal clear blue skies, bright wildflowers, sweet homes, animals everywhere.

It's so peaceful. Beneath the chatter of townsfolk, there's the rustle of the wind through the trees, the crystalline babbling of a brook nearby, birds singing.

Christ, it's as though you've stepped into a Disney movie or something with how picturesque it is.

"Tyler!" comes the shrieking of a petite, curly haired brunette. She flings herself at the taller boy, and he laughs, dropping his bags to hug her back tight.

"Hey, hey-" he leans back, looking down at the sizeable bump to her middle. "-should be taking it easy in your condition, y'know!"

She laughs, shoving him lightly, just as three more show up. A girl with a shaved head who hangs back, another petite girl with her hair cut to her chin that Tyler is pulling into a frantic kiss, and...

He's a lot handsomer in person, Tyler's cousin.

Not that he hadn't been handsome in those pictures Tyler had shown you, but in person... his pale cheeks held a soft rosy glow, his hair hung thick into his eyes. Oh, his eyes. As blue as the very skies above you, framed with long lashes that swept his cheeks.

His plush lips turn up at the corners, fully aware of your ogling. "Fucks sake, cuz," he laughs, as he claps Tyler's shoulder when he brings him in for a brief hug, having had to pull him away from Rain. "Keeping a gorgeous girl like that all to yourself, fuckin' wanker."

You duck your head down, unable to hide your smile as your cheeks warm. Your ex grumbles something behind you.

Bjorn's eyes snap to him, his head cocking as his smile turns sharp at the edges, as his eyes turn to steel. He gives the man a once over, assessing, before snorting at whatever conclusion it is he's come to.

"Bjorn, right?" you ask, once you raise your head again. He looks at you, warmth in his smile once more. "Tyler's told me a lot about you."

"I'd say all good or summit, but knowing my twatty cousin..." he tuts playfully, adjusting his t-shirt. "But likewise, love," he grins, stepping closer to you, eyes dancing over the features of your face. "Somethin' tells me we're going to get along fuckin' spectacularly."

#alien romulus #alien #bjorn alien romulus #bjorn alien romulus x reader #bjorn x reader #spike fearn

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armoricaroyalty · 4 months ago

Text

When historians wrote about the sixteen short years he spent on the throne, they would characterize it as a short preamble to Rosalind's reign. He would be remembered primarily as her father, his name a mere footnote in her biography. He could accept that.

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

Transcription under the cut.

ELISE | You have to speak with her. ANDRE | :/ ELISE | She’s your heir, she needs to know. ANDRE | Now? What about the boys? ELISE | Now, Andre. ANDRE | [ sighs ] You’re right… ANDRE | Do you remember the time we came here when you were little? ANDRE | You must have been…six or seven? ANDRE | We went for a walk, just the two of us, and ended up right here. ANDRE | It was the first time I told you that you would be queen someday. Do you remember what you said? He looks at her for a moment. Flash back to Rosalind, Age 7 or 8. ROSALIND | Yeah, Daddy. I already know. The present. ANDRE | And then you started telling me all about your big ideas. You were so excited. You said that when you were Queen, you were going to end world hunger and close the hole in the ozone layer. You were going to save the world. ANDRE | [ heavily ] Rosalind…what I’m trying to tel you is…it’s…I’m.. ROSALIND | Dad? Is something wrong? ANDRE | I’m not mad at you. ROSALIND | What? ANDRE | [ exasperated ] Life is too short, Roz. I’m not going to waste time being angry about your girlfriend or what some stupid reporter said in some stupid magazine. ANDRE | [ exhales ] ANDRE | Look…I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my time. ROSALIND | Dad— ANDRE | Let me finish! ANDRE | When you’re queen, you’re going to have to do things your own way. You have to be a leader. You can’t dither, you can’t sit on the fence…you have to be decisive. ANDRE | You can’t let fear hold you back. [ beat ] ROSALIND | I love her, Dad. I’m going to marry her. ANDRE | You feel that strongly about her? Despite everything? ROSALIND | She’s everything to me. ANDRE | [ he looks at her intently, searching her expression. She’s serious. ] Well…I’d say that you and Mary have waited long enough, haven’t you? ANDRE | You tell her to pick out a ring. And tell her to pick a good one. ROSALIND | Dad! ANDRE | It has to be good. Good enough for a queen…

#sims community #ts4 #ts4 story #ts4 storytelling #ts4 royals #ts4 royal family #armorica story #chapter 4 #behind the scenes #character: rosalind st. fleur #character: frederick st. fleur #character: emily chandra #character: mary yokoyama #character: vivienne meijer #character: jacques st. fleur #character: andre st. fleur #character: elise sutton #character: hugo st. fleur

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badkitty3000 · 2 months ago

Text

You Can't Go Home Again

Chapter 7 (Final)

Link to Chapter 6

Link to Chapter 5

Link to Chapters 3 and 4

Link to Chapters 1 and 2

All Five wants to do is rest. But when yet another apocalypse threatens to doom them all, he doesn't have that luxury. This time, the only solution for the Hargreeves to try and save the world is to unite Five with another, alternate version of himself.

Five starts to spiral when he is faced with the alternate life that he could have had, if only he hadn't gone and ruined everything. But maybe, just maybe, there's still time for him to obtain the happy ending he deserves.

An alternate season three rewrite for a request I received.

This is the final chapter! Thank you everyone that has been following this story!

Warnings: None

Chapter Seven: The Idea of Happiness

The three men appeared out of the portal, stumbling into the living room of the house. There was a collective sigh of relief from the other siblings when they saw Five and Klaus were still in one piece. Marie gave a short shriek of surprise from them appearing out of nowhere, but as soon as she saw her husband she started to make her way over to him. She stopped as soon as she saw Reginald’s pistol that was still in his hand.

“What are you doing with a gun, Five?” she asked warily.

Her Five’s eyebrows drew together in confusion until he looked down and remembered he had been holding it when they teleported out of the Academy.

“Oh, shit,” he said to himself. “I’m sorry…it’s…”

“Here,” Five said, taking it out of his hand with an exaggerated eye roll and shoving it in the back of his pants.

After the gun was put away, Marie approached her husband again, looking at him curiously, as if seeing him for the first time. She stared into his eyes, her own filling up with tears again.

“You left,” she said, her voice barely audible. “You left us.” When he went to take her hand, she pulled it away with a shake of her head.

“Marie, I’m sorry. I was just so angry, I felt like I had to do something to –” His apology was cut short when his wife slapped him hard across the face. The rest of the adults in the room cringed and let out a collective “Ooooh.”

“That’s gotta hurt,” Klaus whispered to Lila.

“What I wouldn’t give to smack either one of these wankers across the face,” she responded, not quite as quietly as Klaus. “She’s got good form, though, I’ll give her that.”

As the other Five was recovering from his slap, Marie’s anger started building. “You selfish bastard! What were you trying to prove, huh?”

“I’m sorry. But I wasn’t leaving you or the kids, I promise. That was the whole point. I had the watch, so I was returning right away.”

“But you didn’t even tell me! Where the hell did you go anyway? And why do you have a gun? I demand some goddamn answers, Five! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”

Until now, Five had assumed Marie was a sweet, soft-spoken woman that never raised her voice. But as soon as he saw her losing her shit, he had to smile. Of course his other version would be married to a woman with some fight in her. That only made sense.

Five didn’t really want to piss her off anymore, but he felt obligated to step in. “Marie, he wasn’t going to leave you. That’s the truth. We would never do that.” She and her Five both looked at him in surprise because he had used the word we. “I understand what he did and why. The urge to protect your family at all costs is a strong one.” Five looked around at his siblings. “Sometimes it makes you do stupid shit like getting them stranded decades in the past, or in a completely wrong timeline.” He turned back to Marie. “But I can assure you it was all done out of his love for you. Because that’s what we do.”

Klaus put a hand to his heart and was about to say something about Five being a big softy after all, but Lila clapped a hand over his mouth.

“All of that is true,” the other Five said. “And I can explain everything to you. But right now, I think our guests need to get going.”

As if on cue, another kugel wave shot through the house, accompanied by the thunderous sound of the row of houses across the street breaking off and disappearing, leaving a giant chasm in its wake. The universe was collapsing at an accelerated rate, with whole sections of the earth cracking off into the void.

As everyone gasped, Five nodded. “It’s now or never.”

“Wait!” Marie cried, hurrying off to the other room.

While she was gone, Jack suddenly blinked out of the room, as well.

“Where the hell is everyone going?” Five’s other self asked before looking down at Maddie. The little girl just shrugged.

In another second, Jack was back, blinking into the living room again and directly in front of Five. He held out a small plastic baggie with cookies inside. “Blinking makes me hungry, so I figured you probably get that way too. So, in case you need a snack, here. They’re chocolate chip.”

Five reached for the bag and inspected it. “Chocolate chip is my favorite kind. How did you know?”

Jack laughed. “Cause that’s my dad’s favorite, too!”

Five chuckled and put the bag in his back pocket. “Thank you, Jack. You keep an eye on your sister and keep practicing those blinks, ok?”

The little boy nodded before throwing his arms around Five’s small waist, pulling away again before Five could react. Then he was gone across the room in a flash again.

At that moment, Marie came hurrying in, carrying a garment bag on a hanger. She shoved it at Five. “Here. I cleaned it as best I could. The dry cleaner was destroyed, so I had to improvise. But I figured you’d want your own clothes when you got back home.”

Five took the suit from her with a shy smile. “Thank you, Marie. That was not necessary, but I appreciate it very much. And thank you for letting us invade your home.”

She nodded. “I’d say come back anytime, but that would probably mean disaster for all of us if you did.”

The rest of the siblings gathered around, thanking Marie for her hospitality and the other Five for helping them get out of there. Allison hugged the kids, getting misty eyed with the thought that maybe she’d get to see Claire again soon.

Five turned to his doppelganger. The two men regarded one another, not knowing what to say. What was there to say? Thanks for letting me get wasted and have an existential crisis in your basement. Thanks for talking me out of killing our father who’s not really our father because of my childhood trauma. See you at the next fucked-up family reunion!

After a few seconds of pondering, they didn’t say anything. It wasn’t really necessary, anyway. They were the same person, just slightly different models. Their thoughts were essentially the same. They knew what the other would say if there was more time or if either of them had more emotional capacity.

Instead, they just nodded at one another with small smiles.

Five programmed his watch and stood in the center of the room while his siblings and Lila gathered around. With the earth cracking loudly outside the home and a fiery glow coming from the windows, they each put a hand on one of Five’s shoulders or arms, like spokes off the central hub of a wheel.

With one more look at his other self, Five put his finger on the activation button. “Let me know how this turns out.” And then they were gone.

*********************************************************

Falling onto the floor in a groaning heap, the seven of them pushed and rolled off of one another, trying to get their bearings and stand up again.

“Gross…get off me!” Viktor whined as he tried to shove Lila off the top of him.

Lila smirked and climbed off, ruffling Viktor’s hair in the process. “You’re welcome for that.”

“Ow, get your boot off my face!” Allison yelled at Klaus.

“Well, get your face off my boot!”

Five tried unsuccessfully to pull his leg out from where it was pinned under Luther. “Get off my leg before you snap it in half, asshole!”

“Oh shit, sorry, Five.”

“Everyone move…I’m going to be sick again!” Diego moaned as he tried to scramble away from the group on his hands and knees.

“It’s ok, honey, there’s a plant in the corner over there,” Lila said with a sigh.

With more groans and grumbles, the group finally righted themselves and took a look around.

“I think we did it,” Luther exclaimed after seeing they were once again in the Academy foyer.

“Don’t assume anything,” Five said warily as he started casing the room, looking for clues as to what date, and more importantly, what timeline they were in.

Allison picked up the newspaper on the front table. “Ok, this is a good sign.” She held it up for everyone to see. “March 24th, 2019.”

Five snatched it out of her hand and started rifling through the pages. “Reginald Hargreeves is dead. The Umbrella Academy and all of our names are mentioned. No sign of the Sparrows. Ok, yeah, this could be good.”

The sound of high heels clicking on the floor caused all of their heads to jerk up in unison. No one said anything as Grace appeared in the doorway, wearing her pink polka-dot dress and usual cheery smile.

“Oh, there you kids are! I’m sure everyone is hungry after the funeral, so I’ve put dinner in the oven and it should be ready shortly.” She looked over at Lila with another smile. “And it seems we have a guest! How lovely. I’ll be sure to set an extra place.”

“Mom?” Diego said weakly from the floor next to the potted plant he’d just barfed into. “You’re ok. And not…weird.”

“Of course I’m ok, silly. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Mom? Do you know anything about the Sparrows?” Luther asked.

Grace hesitated for a moment. “Sparrows? Well, we certainly get a lot of those brown little creatures at the birdfeeder every day. They do like to make a mess with the seeds, though.”

Everyone let out a sigh of relief and Grace smoothed her skirt down. “Alright, then. Dinner is in fifteen minutes sharp.”

“This is good, right?” Klaus asked Five, who was still reluctant to declare things safe just yet.

Before he could answer, more familiar footsteps could be heard approaching. This time they were accompanied by the tap of a cane on the floor. The siblings stiffened for a moment before Pogo came into view, looking not so thrilled. He paused in the doorway and took everyone in thoughtfully, his gaze landing on Lila for a moment, but not saying anything. Then he turned to Luther.

“Master Luther,” he started before addressing Diego on the floor, “Master Diego. I am greatly disappointed in your behavior at your father’s funeral today. I expect you two to clean up the courtyard and repair your brother’s statue that you desecrated with your childish antics. And I expect you to do it without further incident. Is that clear?”

The two brothers were instantly cowed by the remarks and they nodded their heads guiltily. “Yes Pogo,” they both said meekly.

“Good,” said the chimp with a tap of his cane for emphasis. “Now, I would love to have a nice dinner with the entire family here before all of you children return to your lives. Can we do that?”

“Yes Pogo,” everyone said with a nod.

“Very good. I shall see you at the dinner table, then.”

As Pogo shuffled away and out of sight, the siblings were left standing and staring at one another in shock.

“I think we did it,” Five finally said.

“If this is the day of Dad’s funeral, that means I haven’t met Leonard yet. I won’t destroy the moon,” Viktor said.

“And I haven’t gone to Vietnam or met Dave,” Klaus said a little sadly.

“Claire!” Allison cried with a smile before rushing off to use the phone in the hallway.

“Patch is still alive.” Diego looked at Lila and grabbed her hand with a squeeze. “I’ll explain some things.”

Luther shrugged, looking around the room. “I guess I’m back from the moon for good.”

Everyone’s eyes fell on Five and he suddenly felt very exposed. They all had lives to return to and resume like normal. All of them except for him.

“What are you going to do, Five?” Klaus asked.

He shook his head. “I’m…I’m not sure.” Then he cleared his throat and grabbed the hanging bag with his clean suit from off the floor. “Shower and change for one. And I advise you all to do the same. You smell like shit.” Then he was gone in a blink without another word.

******************************************************

Back in his old room in the attic, Five sat on the edge of his bed. The extra-long shower he had taken had felt good, but he was still anxious. He had fixed it, he thought. So far nothing had appeared out of the ordinary from when they had left a couple of weeks ago. But that didn’t mean something horrible wasn’t lurking around the corner, ready to pull the rug out from under them. There was something else gnawing at him, though. And that was the fact that even if things were completely back to normal, what did that mean for him?

Five ran a hand down his face and glanced around his room. Everything was how he remembered it. This time there was no manic math on the walls and Dolores wasn’t there with him. His first thought was that he should go out and find her, just like he did before. But so much had happened to him since then, and something just felt wrong. He had let her go once before. He needed to do it again.

When his eyes landed on his desk, he noticed something that had not been there before; a bottle of what looked like whiskey. Getting up to get a closer look, Five saw that it was the exact same whiskey that he had polished off in his other self’s basement a couple of days ago. Next to the bottle, written on a piece of paper that had been lying on the desk, was a note in his handwriting.

“Everything restored. Life is good.”

Five picked up the note and then looked at the bottle. With a slow smile creeping over his face, he shook his head. “Asshole had to show me up again.”

*********************************************************

As Five stood in front of his wardrobe mirror, fixing the knot on his tie and straightening his suit jacket, there was a knock on the door.

“Five, dear…dinner is ready. Are you coming down?”

“Yeah, be right there, Mom,” he called, catching himself off guard by the automatic response to something that hadn’t been said in decades.

He paused, his hands still at his tie, as he heard Grace’s heels click back down the stairs. He stared into the same thirteen year-old eyes that he had looked into in that very mirror so long ago. He always was the last one of the kids to arrive at the table; always blinking in at the last second right before Reginald would come striding in. Five always had more important things to be doing other than joining his family for meals and being forced to listen to whatever bullshit their father was “instilling” in them that day. He had physics to study, and books to read. He needed to sneak out of the fire escape just to get out of the house and breathe for once. He needed to work on his spatial jumps. Anything but spend time with his family.

With a hard swallow and one more adjustment of his tie, he grabbed the whiskey bottle off the desk and took a swallow. He had already helped himself to about a quarter of the bottle so far, and he expected to have it finished off before the night was over. But right now, he was still relatively sober, and he set the bottle back down before blinking away to join his siblings at the table.

Dinner was loud and lively as everyone talked over one another excitedly, passing dishes and laughing. Pogo sat in their father’s seat and looked on with an amused smile, just happy to have his children all back in the same house again. Lila sat in Ben’s old seat, which she had initially felt very awkward about, but everyone assured her it was ok. She was family now and Ben wouldn’t have minded. Grace moved in and out of the room, bringing in more platters of food and refilling glasses, all with the same beautiful smile plastered on her face. She patted Diego on the shoulder on her way past and he smiled up at her with a mouthful of food.

As everyone chattered away about how they were going to restart their lives in a more positive way now that they were offered a second chance, Five sat in silence and ate his food slowly. The longer he listened to his siblings’ plans, the better he felt inside. He had done it. He had finally accomplished what he’d sworn to himself to do 45 years ago. His family was safe and the world was in one piece. Even his other self in a completely separate timeline was presumably happy and with his family. Five smiled as he looked out over the table.

“What about you, Fivey?” Klaus asked, pointing a fork at his smaller brother. “You going to go back to school or something?”

Five frowned. “Why would I do that?”

Allison leaned forward to talk to him. “Well, you’re welcome to come stay with me and Claire in L.A. I have plenty of room.”

Five shook his head. “No…thank you…I…I’m not sure what I’m going to do just yet.”

“Well,” Luther started, looking a little nervous. “We were talking earlier…all of us…about maybe, you know, helping you out a little.”

“Yeah,” Viktor added. “We want to make sure you’re ok. You’ve been through a lot and you haven’t really been dealing with it that great.”

Five’s initial reaction was to snap back and tell them he didn’t need any of their pity or their help; that he was doing just fine. But, of course, that wasn’t true and he just didn’t have the energy to fight with them anymore.

“I appreciate your concern,” Five said. “But you can’t help me.”

Lila groaned. “Oh, come on, you little shit. Don’t be such a martyr.”

“Thank you, Lila, and also, fuck you,” Five stated plainly before turning back to the rest of his siblings. “I’m not trying to be a martyr. I can admit I’m not doing great. But you can’t help me. None of you can.

“Master Five, you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you like. The Academy will always be your home,” Pogo interjected.

Five nodded. “Thank you, Pogo. But I can’t stay here, either.”

Diego spoke up. “But where are you going to live or work? You’re a kid. Or, you know, you look like one anyway.”

“And the drinking…” Luther added.

Five held up a hand. “I know, I know. I admit, it doesn’t bode well for me. And I promise to get a handle on the drinking. But for right now, I need to figure some things out on my own.”

There was silence around the table and then Five laughed. No one had ever heard Five laugh without it being followed by a snarky remark that was usually aimed at one of them. They exchanged nervous glances.

“Really, guys, I’m going to be ok,” Five insisted. “At least, I’m going to try and be ok.”

“We just want you to be happy, Five,” Viktor told him.

“I know,” Five said with a sad smile. “I’m not sure happiness is in the cards for me, Viktor, but thank you for saying that.”

************************

As the sunlight filtered through the grimy window of his bedroom and spread across his face, Five stirred. After drinking down the rest of the whiskey the night before, accompanied by Jack’s cookies, Five had tried to come up with as many solutions to his problem as possible. He was smart, he could figure out a way to live independently in this body; he just needed to think.

Stumbling up from the bed where he had passed out on top of the covers in just his suit pants and undershirt, Five made his way over to the desk again. Squinting down at the notebook where he had been listing various ideas, he noticed how his writing had gotten less legible the drunker he got. He also noticed how the ideas became increasingly dumber.

“Join the circus?” he said out loud before flopping down in the chair. “Jesus, I’m an idiot.” With a sigh he looked over the rest of the list. Nothing written there was actually helpful or made much sense. Which was exactly what Five had been afraid of. “Fuck.”

There was only one real answer to all of this, and Five had known it as soon as they had come crashing back into the mansion yesterday. He’d know it longer than that, actually. It had always been in the back of his mind; he just hadn’t wanted to admit it. But there was no getting around it now.

Unless he wanted to live the next five or six years in the custody of one of his siblings, Five was going to have to go back to being the person he hated the most. An assassin for the Commission.

He had thought about staying there at the Academy, maybe for a couple of weeks, almost like a vacation, and to maybe try and dry out a little. But that was just another dumb idea he had. The longer he put it off, the harder it would be. And he was fooling himself if he thought he wouldn’t drink himself half to death if left alone with nothing to do for days at a time.

There was another very real concern, too. And that was that he was fairly sure it was just a matter of time before they started looking for him again. They had returned to the beginning, and a gang of angry Commission agents were probably on their way right now to find him and drag him back or kill him. So, it was best if he just went willingly this time. If he couldn’t spare himself, he could at least spare his family.

Five had decided, though, that if they wanted him back there was going to be some changes. He had no idea what state the Commission was in at the moment. So many timelines had been fucked up in his little journey through space and time that he wasn’t sure if the Handler was dead or alive, or if AJ was still in charge, or someone else. Either way, Five knew he was their greatest asset, and he wasn’t going to come slinking back with his tail between his legs.

He had specific demands and allocations that he was prepared to negotiate for. He was no longer going to be one of their drones that worked for them unquestionably until he was killed in the line of duty. No, he knew his worth. If he was going to walk back into that building again, things were going to be different. Five was a fucking Commission legend, and it was time he was treated like one.

He wanted his own apartment in the real world, not in Commission headquarters, so that he could visit and keep tabs on his siblings. He didn’t want to be tracked wherever he went, so no microchip this time. He wanted to be able to pick the jobs with full power to turn them down for any reason.

He would sign their five-year contract, but if those additions were not added, then there would be no deal.

If they had a problem with that, then, that was going to be their big mistake. Because Five had no problem fighting and outrunning them for the rest of his life; using up their precious resources and all of their best field agents in the process. Bring it on. He had nothing else to do.

After another shower and change back into his Academy uniform because the suit was pretty ripe by now and the clothes Marie had given him made him feel somehow younger, Five stood at the top of the staircase. He could hear his family down there, laughing, talking, and arguing. The sound of clinking silverware and the smell of his mother’s cooking was drifting upwards. He could even make out a soft chuckle from Pogo.

There was that moment of panic again. Five could feel it, reaching up from his guts and wrapping its hand tightly around his heart. He reached up to loosen his tie and tried to take in big breaths of air. He wanted to join them. To walk breezily down the stairs, grab a plate and sit down at the table to join in their conversation. He wanted to chat with Pogo about some of the interesting physics theories he had studied up on during his alone time in the Apocalypse. He longed to sit quietly at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper while Grace went about her chores, listening to her hum her happy little tunes.

But he couldn’t. Despite what Pogo had told him, this was not his home anymore. It hadn’t been in many years. Five needed to move on, no matter how hard that was. He wasn’t a stranger to hardship, so for him this was just another kick in the nuts that life was throwing at him. This time, though, he wasn’t going to stay away. He had survived and saved his siblings for a reason, and he wasn’t going to throw all of that away now. So, he would come back from time to time. He would keep in touch and hopefully watch them flourish and have families of their own.

And who knows, maybe Five would luck out. Maybe down the road he could knock off the booze and meet someone special to share his life with. Maybe he could have his own home and family one day. His other self had shown him he was capable of it. Five doubted it, but maybe he could find his own happiness with the right person.

Nothing was impossible.

If anyone is interested in my other works, here is a link to my Masterlist ❤️

@kaybreezy3000 @lunalovesangst

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves fanfic #number five #number five fanfic #umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfic #tua fanfic #tua 3 #fanfiction requests #fanfiction #badkittywrites #multi chapter #tua #the umbrella academy

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