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rdng1230 · 19 days ago

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Sweet Lucie I’m about to hijack the fuck out of your post because I can’t think of a better segue into thanking our little cheerleading squad. 🥰 I ain’t even sorry, sometimes you just can’t hold the love in anymore ❤️

@sunnywithachanceofbi Chrissy 🌞, you read just the first bit of this and called out to the internet to find me. You love and praise and spread joy like it’s as easy as breathing, and for that along with everything else I am so thankful. You came and found me, friend, and I am a changed person because of it ❤️.

@ohlookitsthearkhamknight your comments ALWAYS make me smile and I’m so glad the internet sent me your way. I know things aren’t easy for you right now, but among all the bad things this year remember that you’ve lifted people up too.

@racerchix21 BABES I don’t even remember now why I swooped in and adopted you but no takebacks man, you’re stuck with me. It is truly insane how attuned I am to an internet stranger, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re my creative soulmate, and I’m so grateful for the friendship that we’ve built ❤️

@girlwonder-writes Oh Captain my captain. I wish you could see yourself through our eyes. You’d see the kind, steadfast, and determined leader we’ve all come to admire so goddamn much. You’re so hard on yourself and yet at the same time you always manage to steer us to safer waters. Thank you always for your affirmation, love, and protection. Your passion and talent for community building is more inspiring than you’ll ever know.

@judymarch15 god, thank you for making me LAUGH! Your fics have this effortless playfulness and realism to them that draws me in every single time. Every time I read them I’m genuinely like chimney with the Apple going “that Judy’s so cool.” You’ve been so complementary about my stuff and it knocks my socks off every time because “ummm excuse me, no u?” YOU’RE the gold standard Judy, ain’t no two ways about it.

@marvelousbuckley you adorable little Parisian who lives in my phone. You are genuinely just the sweetest person and always ready with a kind word or an even kinder cat photo 🥰. I love how the poetry in your writing makes me see these characters in a whole different light. Just keep being you sweetheart, you are so so so loved.

@bangpop91 you sexy milf you, what would I do in a day without your absolutely filthy smut gracing my screen? I love your willingness to go to bat for the ones you love. You have this heels dug in grit and determination about you that I just admire SO MUCH. I wanna be like you when I grow up.

@loopsenjoyer 🦆🦆🦆🦆 god you’re just such a pal, man. You make me feel like things are gonna be ok more than you could ever realize. Thanks for all the video calls and movie nights and every other time you’ve made so much loneliness just evaporate. Also your hair gives me gender envy cuz why are you so cool 😭😭

@nine-one-wanton we’ll always have Oreo the turtle ❤️. I just love the way you write for our mooks and your slowburn reading of spiritus was such a comfort during that week. Your comments were an amazing start to my day. I haven’t even been able to bring myself to read the last of breathing both ways yet because I’m just not ready to let go 💔💔💔, you’re so damn talented!!!!

@herrmannhalsteadproduction two words: spy tommy. Nah I’m just playing you know I have more words. Particularly the ones you shared with us during our mystery writer challenge way back when. They stick with me even now, and remind me that the best thing you can be is unabashedly yourself. Thanks for the reminder Kay, I needed it ❤️

@dadbodbuck what a joy it is to be surrounded by writers as talented as you buddy. Like “here’s a chapter that will wreck your soul and also here’s a picture of a shark I just caught for science” dude, are you even REAL?!?! I just think you’re neat as hell and I love hearing about your latest projects whether that’s writing or hearing about cool animals in New Zealand.

@thecarrott 🥕 your writing always puts me in a better mood seriously. I love getting to chat with you and tussle things out with our writing and bugging you about hoodie fic. I love being your beta reader even though half the time I’m so engrossed I forget to actually edit 🤣. Thanks for giving me a peek behind the curtain at the great mind that is carrot ❤️.

@thepinkcrayon you write like a damn machine and I have NO IDEA HOW?? Thanks for all the pictures of sweet baby Finn and for always providing me with high quality bucktommy kink fic 😊🥰. You’ve been so encouraging to me as I’ve awkwardly transitioned into smut writing, thanks for everything!

@kinardsevan oh you dark dark mind, I like you. A big ole fuck you to all Mel’s haters and it’s a pity they don’t get to enjoy your gorgeous work. Thanks for always being down to talk Veronica mars with me and for keeping me appraised of art school drama. I live vicariously through you and you always bring fantastic tea. And the angsty thing is in fact turning into a smutty thing and I promise to tag you as soon as it’s done lol.

@desert--moonchild Moon! Thank you for always being this kind bright presence, not to be hyperbolic but I *would die* for pharaoh. Thanks for writing the world’s most perfect AU. The storm chasers live in my soul rent free and I just love the way you crafted them, I carry my storm chaser AU #1 fan banner as a badge of goddamn honor. Thanks for all the love and encouragement 🥰.

@mottlemoth God honey, where do I even START? I’m just so proud of you. Without even being in the damn fandom yet, you’re my biggest inspiration by just showing me exactly what I want my writing to be. A comfort, a rescue shelter, an inviting world where people grow and change, and where eventually, everything is beautiful and nothing hurts ❤️.

@cliophilyra and last but certainly not least, dear Lucie. I think my only frustration with you is that I could only read your fics for the first time once. I fucking adore each and every one of them and you manage to get me right where I live EVERY time. Your love for ATAKITH has been such an encouragement to me and keeps me wanting to write something even better for you next time. Thank you dear friend, always ❤️.

——

I am CERTAIN there are people I’ve forgotten, just know that I love you and as soon as I actually get out of bed and eat some breakfast I’ll be face palming all day going “HOW COULD I FORGET _____” and then I’ll likely reblog with an extra gushy paragraph just for you. If you even sorta think I like you, I promise you I think you’re the bees knees ❤️

Ok listen up. Everyone needs to read this. It’s one of my all time faves. It’s just wonderful & I love it so much, I cannot recommend it enough and it is guaranteed to help you in these trying times. Especially if like me you just want to read something where Tommy gets a happy ending.

By the so lovely and uber talented RiNew1717 aka @rdng1230

Summary:

When Tommy and Sal run into each other outside of work, romantic feelings bloom and complications ensue. Luckily their Nonnas are the meddlesome type.

Excerpt:

Most of the people dancing are old couples swaying predictably back and forth. It was a slow song. The kind of that plays as the credits roll on some Technicolor chick flick. ‘There's no telling where love may appear. Something in my heart keeps saying my someplace is here.’

Sal can see Nonna stopped by yet another person on her way to the bar. He chuckles into the back of his hand and returns his eyes to the people watching. They’re drawn to a man in a navy blue suit, his back facing Sal. He feels a swoop in his stomach at the way the man’s shoulder blades move, the confidence in his hips, how relaxed he looks even among the crowd. The old woman he’s with is beautiful too, with intelligent eyes and an earnest smile.

The man skillfully picks her up and spins 180 degrees, Both of them giggling. Sal feels the urge to laugh with them, until he sees the man in front of him isn’t a stranger at all.

It’s Tommy.

#LUCIE 😭😭😭#Ain’t that a kick in the head #this fic really did change my life. As you can see by the SEVENTEEN goddamn people who I now can’t live without 🤣#Saltommy

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mrvlbimbo · 3 years ago

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Fast times at Fennel Fields

Adrian Chase x reader

I got a request for a fluff fic so I wrote 4.2k words of idiots being in love and here it is. I appreciate all the requests sm, keep them coming and I’ll keep writing them :)

The best thing to say about Fennel Fields is that it wasn’t the worst place in the world to work. Adrian didn’t hate working there and the pay was enough. Most of his coworkers were bearable although he didn’t think they liked him very much.

For the most part he didn’t care what they thought about him. He didn’t make an effort to get close to them until they hired the new girl. She was friendly and kind and he thought she was perfect in every way.

Before her he worked with a group of three kids in their 20s and their manager Taylor. There were more people that worked there but they never had shifts with him so he didn’t bother to learn their names.

The people he did work with were a guy named Ben and two girls named Blake and Avery. Blake was nice enough but Avery was a total bitch. He didn’t have any problem with Ben except that he was a typical jock that would have made fun of him in High School.

He started to have more of a problem when Ben flirted with the new girl on her first day. It’s not like he thought he had a chance with her but it was still annoying to see another guy trying to get with her.

When she had started working there she became friends with the other workers quickly, something he envied. He had been working at Fennel Fields for years but he was seldom included in the employee bonding activities. The only time he had received a message from one of his coworkers was when they needed him to cover their shifts.

The reason he liked her was because she cared. Not just about him, she cared about everyone. She cared who they were and what they had to say.

Her first day she walked through that door and set her eyes on him. She stood right in front of him and offered her hand “Hi,” she said and introduced herself.

“The manager isn’t here yet,” he replied, quickly returning to his job of wiping down tables. He was the assistant manager but it was usually Taylor’s job to train new employees.

She nodded awkwardly and laughed at his bluntless. “Ok cool. What’s your name?” She asked, doing her best to be friendly despite his slightly rude response.

He cringed at how short he had been with her. It wasn’t her fault that he was having a bad day, which was pretty much any day he had to come into work. “Sorry, sorry. I’m Adrian by the way,” he said, giving up his name as a sort of peace offering.

She flashed him a wide grin and from that moment on he was hooked.

The first few weeks she earnestly tried to eat the food at her job. She would take her lunch break at the same time as Adrian. The only thing on the menu that he would dare recommend were the boardwalk fries.

Those first few weeks were nice because she sat with him and chatted about whatever was on her mind during their break. His day was always brightened by her colorful expression when she tasted an outlier in the batch of unevenly seasoned fries.

Her nose scrunched up when she tried a particularly salty one. “Ew, gross,” she commented, throwing the fry into the garbage can next to the table.

“Yeah the food here is barely edible and that’s the best thing we have,” Adrian commented, taking a bite of his perfect brought from home Caesar salad with grilled chicken.

She laughed at his brutally honest answer. “I guess that’s why you bring food from home.” He wanted to offer to share some of his food with her but before he could he heard the rest of their coworkers get back from break.

“Girl, I know you’re not eating those god awful fries,” Blake remarked, setting her purse behind the counter and walking over to join them at the table. She gave Adrian a polite nod and then promptly went back to ignoring him.

The other two workers followed suit, standing to the side of her. “Yeah, come get lunch with us some time?” Ben offered.

She shrugged and reluctantly swallowed another fry, trying to ignore the lack of flavor on this one. “Oh I’ll be alright. I don’t want to leave Adrian here all alone,” she answered, giving a look in his direction and smiling.

The truth was he really didn’t want her to leave him alone during his lunch break. He had never had someone to spend it with and it was a nice change of pace. Of course he would never admit this so when Avery fixed him with a scowl and asked, “Oh i’m sure you don't care. Right Adrian?” He just shrugged and continued eating his salad.

And then he had to pretend he didn’t notice her leaving with everyone else during their lunch break. Without their daily lunch they started to drift apart. She got really close with her other coworkers and although she never ignored him like they did, she was much colder than when he first met her.

Her actions just solidified his idea that she never really wanted to be his friend in the first place. The idea that she was just waiting for better people to come around so she wouldn’t have to hangout with him anymore.

It was months before they were alone again. This time it was because all the other workers left early for a party. Of course, she had to stay and help because his night couldn’t get any worse.

It’s not that he didn’t want her there, it was just really hard to get anything done with her around. Luckily for him she seemed to be focused on her own tasks. She had headphones in and she was sweeping the floors.

He watched her intently, getting lost in the way she seemed so carefree and full of life. It was only fitting that when he looked away for a minute to check the salt and pepper shakers, she would bump right into him and fall to the ground.

She let out a surprised sound when she hit the floor. “Oh my gosh. I am so sorry. I was sweeping and I wasn’t paying attention because I was looking at the floor because like that’s where the sweeping happens,” she hurriedly explained, her face turning a deep shade of red.

He offered her a hand and an apology of his own. “No no I’m sorry I should have been paying attention.”

Once she had been helped off the floor they stood there in front of each other looking for something to say. “Well I guess there’s a lot of things you’re not paying attention to,” she muttered softly before returning to her work.

He tried to figure out what she meant by that and how it was about him but his mind blanked. What had he not been paying attention to? After everything was packed up and they were ready to go, curiosity finally got the best of him. “What did you mean? What am I not paying attention to?” he asked her.

“I guess you’ve just kinda been ignoring me for a while,” she answered, looking down at her feet rather than meeting his gaze.

His eyes widened at her admittance and he felt like such an idiot. He was trying to do a nice thing by leaving her alone but to her it seemed like he just didn’t want to be around her. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to annoy you so I figured I’d leave you alone,” he explained, his voice pleading for her not to be upset.

She let out a small laugh at his answer and dread filled his chest. She was going to tell him that he was annoying and she didn’t want to be around him. Or worse she was going to tell all the other employees how much she hated him. His fears ran loose in his mind until she responded. “Oh my god no you’re not annoying. I think you’re really cool,” she assured him, instantly setting his mind at ease.

That was the moment things changed for them. The unfortunate miscommunication had driven a wedge between them until then. But once things were sorted, they quickly became close friends.

She had forced the rest of their coworkers to begrudgingly accept him. Despite them having to be civil to him they were far from friends. Blake was the nicest to him but he still felt like her kindness was an act.

Him and Blake didn’t really have anything in common except for their mutual friend. This situation came to a head when she invited both of them over to her house for a movie night.

Things were going fine until the host left to grab snacks. Once Blake and Adrian were alone the air was tense and awkward between them. “You like her,” she accused in a matter of fact tone.

He did a very mediocre job of denying her claim. “Pshh, noo. No we’re just friends,” he stuttered out, his face flushing a deep red as he spoke.

“I don’t believe you,” she replied bluntly, turning her attention back to the TV.

He couldn’t tell what her endgame was. Was she going to tell the rest of his coworkers? Did she want to set them up? Maybe she was just nosey.

Before he could offer any rebuttal, the subject of their conversation returned. “You two behaved while I was gone?” she asked with a slight chuckle and sat down between them on the couch.

They both nodded awkwardly, not informing her of the discussion they just had.

As time went on, it became clear she was going to try and get everyone to hang out together as much as possible. He tried to refuse her invitations as much as he could without being rude. Although it was a little bit hard to ignore his coworkers when they got snowed in at work.

“Yep, unless one of you happens to have a snow plow we’re stuck here,” Ben commented, shutting the door quickly behind him to keep the heat in.

Adrian cringed at the way everyone laughed at his joke, a tinge of jealousy filling his chest when he saw her smile at the other man.

“Ugh this sucks, I had a date tonight,” Avery complained, stomping over to sit at a table in the corner.

The rest of them stood awkwardly in the middle of the restaurant until Adrian spoke up. “She needs a date with some anger management classes,” he said hesitantly. This time it was his turn to receive the attention of his coworkers. He couldn’t care less that Blake and Ben were laughing because he was only paying attention to her. The way she scrunched her nose when she laughed and her hand that she absentmindedly placed on his arm.

“Fuck off, Virgin. No one likes you,” Avery yelled across the room, throwing a salt shaker in his direction.

He caught it easily and placed it on another table, rolling his eyes and heading to the back of the store. Blake and Ben went to sit with Avery but the other girl followed him into the back, wanting to make sure he was ok.

She rushed to catch up with his long strides and grabbed his arm once she reached him “Are you alright?” she asked softly.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly “She’s a bitch,” he blurted out, eyes widening at his own words.

Before he could correct himself she let out a surprised laugh. “You’re so right but omg you can’t just say that,” she replied, resting a hand on his chest to steady herself as she giggled.

They walked back into the seating area and went over to their coworkers. Blake and Ben were sitting in the window seats. The seat next to Ben was empty and the seat next to Blake was taken by Avery, whose face was twisted into a look of disdain.

He reluctantly took the seat next to Ben, not wanting to sit with them anyways. There was a lack of space at the table and that was made clear by the fact one person was still standing up.

She blinked a few times in annoyance and confusion and then she shrugged, taking her seat on the side of the booth with the two men. Because of the small space, her seat was Adrian’s lap.

He did his very best to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. Where else was she supposed to sit? It didn’t mean anything.

“Ew,” Avery remarked, looking at the others to assure that they agreed with her. Ben and Blake kept an awkward silence at her attempt at a joke.

Finally, they had all grown tired of her sour mood. “Oh be quiet, they’re cute,” Blake snapped, offering her and Adrian a sympathetic smile.

“Oh, were not-” she quickly corrected Blake’s assumption but she was interrupted by Ben.

“Damn, Chase. Shut down!” he remarked, giving the other man a smug self satisfied smile.

Adrian grimaced at Ben calling him by his last name. Because of his older brother’s popularity, some people never bothered to learn his name when he was younger and they called him that. Even though it was a long time ago it still stung.

They were able to get out of the store before the end of the night because of their manager finding a car that could get through the snow. Hanging out all together that night made the group into friends for real and they actually started to hang out together more often.

A lot of this hanging out took place at parties. It was usually hard to get Adrian to go to parties. But they were able to get him to go to the town’s spring break party.

Swaying bodies filled the living room, Blake stood in the corner drinking with her newest coworker. “Ten dollars you can’t get Adrian to dance,” she commented.

“I’ll take those odds all day,” the woman replied, pacing over to where he was sitting on the couch and shooting a grin back in the direction she came from.

“Heyyyy. Blake says I can't get you to dance,” she greeted, pointing to the woman at the bar to emphasize her point.

He laughed awkwardly and replied, “She’s right.”

She stood in front of him and pouted. “Please Adrien?” she pleaded, giving him a pitiful look.

All she had to do was say his name like that for all of his inhibitions to fly out of the window. The party atmosphere coupled with the fact everyone was a little buzzed made it easier for him to let her drag him onto the dance floor.

He didn’t seem to remember that he didn’t wasn’t much of a dancer. He resorted to doing a goofy fist pump dance move. She giggled at his dancing and took his hand in hers.

She slowly set his hands on her hips, giving him time to pull back if he wanted to “It’s a slow song, silly,” she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and stepping closer to him.

They swayed back and forth in time to the music, only stepping on each other's toes a few times. By the end of the song they were pressed flush against each other, both of their faces covered in a pink tint.

The next song was a high energy dance beat so his dancing was a little bit more appropriate for the situation.

Other than each other, they were content to ignore the world as they danced. This meant she didn’t notice another man approaching them. “Heyyy, sugar. I didn’t know you’d be here,” the man slurred.

This man was her ex boyfriend. “Hi, Danny. What do you want?” she asked. She was clearly uncomfortable, reaching back to grab Adrian’s hand for a bit of security.

A switch clicked in his head when he felt her squeezing his hand. He dropped her hand and reached an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “Who’s this, babe?” he asked her, gesturing at Danny.

“We used to date! Who are you anyways?” Danny demanded, giving Adrian a once over and glaring at him.

She met his glare, defending her friend. “He’s my boyfriend,” she said with a sweet grin as she leaned against his chest.

Danny scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re with her? I don’t believe it, she’s so out of your league, man,” he snapped, making Adrian tighten his arm around her protectively.

He forced a grin onto his face, not wanting to lose his temper and cause a scene. “I know, I got lucky. you don’t have to tell me twice,” he remarked, placing a gentle kiss on her hairline and playing up the idea of their relationship.

By now Danny was seething at how happy they seemed. “Whatever, it won’t last. She’s a fucking whor-”

Before the words were fully out of his mouth he was on the ground. Adrian delivered a swift punch to his jaw. He didn’t stop there, continuing to punch him until he was stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Adrian, let’s get out of here,” she offered, calming him with her presence.

She led him to a room upstairs. They were both silent and that scared him. Doubts raced through his mind. What if she was mad at him? What if he misread the situation?

Adrian sat down on the bed as she stared at the now closed door and he waited for her to turn around. He refused to look at her, readying himself for her to tell him she hated him and she never wanted to see him again.

After a few tense moments, she turned back to him and stepped in front of him. She stood between his legs and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered. It took him a second to realize what was happening but once he did he returned her embrace, pulling her tightly against him.

He always had a little bit of a crush on her but that was the night that settled things. He was in love and from that point on it seemed like she might be too.

They were together whenever they weren’t on work and she would schedule her shifts to be at the same time as his. They were almost always together. Obviously their coworkers noticed the budding relationship and they all had different reactions.

Avery was insufferable, making jokes about their relationship and criticizing them constantly. It wasn’t so bad because Ben and Blake’s reactions were mostly positive. Blake was more involved, every once in a while she tried to play matchmaker.

One summer weekend she had the perfect opportunity to mess with them. Her parents offered her their lake house for the weekend and she had invited all of her coworkers to take a few days off and go on vacation with her.

It took a couple minutes of pleading from his best friend for Adrian to agree to the vacation. He never really had friends that he went away with on weekends. The rest of his coworkers weren’t really people he considered friends, although he was starting to warm up to Blake. That might have something to do with the fact she was always sticking up for the two of them.

They all drove together in Blake’s minivan. Ben drove with Avery in the passenger seat. The rest of them squished in the back, Adrian on the left and Blake on the right.

They had gotten up early so she spent most of the trip dozing off, her head resting on his shoulder. This prompted Blake to smirk at the two of them and give Adrian a thumbs up.

He never openly admitted it but somewhere along the line he stopped denying his crush. There were never any words exchanged but there was a silent understanding with him and Blake where she would do her best to help him with his crush.

When they arrived at the lake house it was almost evening. The lake was warm and the water was calm. They rushed outside to enjoy the rest of the daylight. They swam for hours and lounged in blowup tubes, downing a 12 pack of hard seltzer between the five of them.

Seven of the drinks were split between Ben and Blake, her having one more drink than him. Adrian and Avery both had two drinks. And the other woman finished off the final one.

Ben was large enough not to be affected too much but Blake was not. Having drank the most, she was outright hammered. So she stumbled inside and grabbed an empty beer bottle. “Oooh, spin the bottle,” Ben commented, clapping his hands together in excitement.

“Nooo silly, it’s for truth or dare,” Blake slurred, staggering into the living room and sitting on the door. She motioned the rest of the group over to her. They followed and sat on the floor as well, not wanting to get the sofas wet with their bathing suits.

Blake took the first turn, grinning mischievously when the bottle landed on the girl she wanted to question. Seeing the expression, she chose truth to be safe. “Soooo, is it true that you and Adrian are hooking up?” she asked, giggling slightly as she spoke.

She shook her head and sighed “Blake! You know we’re not,” she whined, tired of the group’s constant teasing even if it was well meaning.

“You wish you were though,” she whispered, leaning into the circle to exaggerate her words and waving her finger between her and Adrian.

Now it was her turn to spin the bottle. She spun and landed on Ben. He chose dare, drunker than most of them and wanting to have some fun.

She dared him to eat a raw egg. He groaned and went to the kitchen to get the things he needed. He cracked the egg into his mouth and washed it down with a shot of scotch.

“You are so gross,” Adrian remarked, a disgusted expression covering his face.

In his drunken haze Ben lashed out at the insult. “Oh, you better hope my spin doesn’t land on you, wimp.”

Adrian gulped, nervous about what the other man might ask him or try to get him to do. He began running the numbers, there was a 25% chance that the bottle would land on him. If the bottle landed on him it was either doing to be a truth or a dare. If he chose dare he could be forced to do something embarrassing but if he chose truth Ben could interrogate him about his crush.

By the time he had chosen between the two, the bottle hand landed on him and sealed his fate. He murmured his answer quietly, he chose dare. Ben sat for a moment, not able to decide his dare. Avery leaned over to him and whispered something in his ear. His eyes lit up at whatever she had said. “Yo Adrian, I dare you to kiss your little girlfriend,” he demanded, a cruel smug smirk on his face.

His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest at those words. His face became redder and redder as the seconds passed. If he didn’t kiss her it would seem like he was hiding something. But if he did she would probably be able to tell how he felt.

When he turned to look at her, their faces were only inches apart. He brought his hands up to cradle her face in his hands. He closely examined her expression and searched her eyes to try and discern how she felt. “Can I?” he asked, absentmindedly running his thumb over her bottom lip.

She gazed up at him with a thoughtful look in her eyes. “Go ahead,” she assured him, moving into his lap so she was straddling him.

He slowly closed the gap between them. The others, who had been perfectly quiet until then, started to whisper to each other. The sound didn’t seem to interrupt them.

Once their lips were on each other the outside world became a blur. They crashed together, letting go of months of longing. Their hands grasped at whatever they could grab, tangling in each other's hair. The line of the kiss being for a dare was more than crossed.

Words from their coworkers were what finally brought them back to reality. They pulled apart with giddy smiles on both of their faces. Adrian’s heart was racing faster than he’d ever felt before. He had just kissed the girl of his dreams and now she was huddled into his side snugly, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

He mumbled out a random truth when his spin landed on Avery. She was seething now, angry for whatever reason. That reason was most likely, that she couldn’t torment Adrian about his crush anymore.

So when her spin landed on the other woman she cackled a little bit. Seeing what happened last time someone chose dare, she decided on truth. “So, is it true that was the worst kiss of your life?” she sneered.

Adrian’s heart dropped when she laughed at the comment. He stormed out of the room, trying not to lose his cool in the presence of his “friends.”

“Adrian, wait!” she shouted, chasing after him.

A/N: soooo what are our thoughts? Part two maybe? Maybe a part 2 with smut? We’ll see ;)

Pt 2 here

#adrian chase #peacemaker #vigilante #vigilante x reader #vigilante peacemaker

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mxchellesworld · 4 years ago

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You know biggie?

Spencer Reid x Poc!Reader

Synopsis; Where Spencer enlists help from Morgan to try and impress you

Warnings; none, mention of smut, mostly fluff

a/n; this is very much a self indulgent thought i have so im very sorry that i modeled y/n kind of like myself. also as a black/mexican girl it is so upsetting that are rarely fics with cm characters and a poc so here we are. anyways hope you enjoy!

***

The day you walked into the BAU Spencer knew he was fucked. Though that’s how Derek put it, he wouldn’t disagree. From the moment he saw you were able to get Hotch to smile he knew you were special.

You were a ball of vibrant energy. Always trying to bring people up when they were having a tough time. While you’d never admit it, Garcia had a run for her money.

He was lucky enough to have his desk next to yours. Every time you walked by him in the morning, the mix of your coconut shampoo and the bright smile you gave him pushed him to do his best.

Now he wasn’t a jealous man at all. It was more so that he wished to be able to have some moments with you like the ones you share with others. The one he wanted the most was how you acted with Morgan.

Of course he was the big brother figure to everyone. So naturally whenever he was driving you’d always yell out, “shotgun” to sit with him. Spencer would just playfully groan but had no problem giving up his seat for you. If anything it was the perfect time to admire you.

Even on the dullest cases you were able to lighten the mood by connecting your phone to the aux and blasting your favorite songs. He’d watch how you’d start poking Morgan’s arm as he drove to try and get him to rap along with you.

Spencer would notice how he would bite his cheek to try and keep in the grin begging to spread across his face. You’d then pick up the imaginary microphone and give them the performance of a life time. Aiming the mic towards Morgan’s mouth he knew he couldn’t let you down and would always give in to your playful ways.

But his favorite part was when you’d turn in your seat to sing to him.

The way your plump glossy lips would curve in a smile with each word you sang. The way your big brown eyes showed how the emotions of the lyrics flowed through you. Even when you’d get a little bold and caress his face then playfully bop his nose.

Morgan would be looking in the rearview with a shit eating grin on his face mouthing ‘you’re whipped’.

For the rest of the ride he would be entranced by your curls bouncing as you bopped your head to the beat.

Maybe he’d ask Morgan to write down some of your favorite songs. For research of course.

After a year of you being on the team Penelope decided a party was in order to celebrate. Rossi being the generous man he was offered up his house for a pool party since it was June and the heat was coming on strong.

Spencer walked into the back yard where the party was in full swing. You had asked for just the members of the team and their families. The adults were sitting around on lawn chairs or resting on the edge of the pool watching their kids.

Looking around for you he saw you laying on the grass with Hank resting on your stomach. His tiny hands would reach for your face and you’d playfully press kisses to his palms causing a roar of giggles to come from his small body.

Spencer felt a hand clap on his shoulder and knew who it was.

“She’s something else huh pretty boy,” Morgan said while looking at you cooing at his son.

“Yeah,” he sighed longingly, “Do you uh, what do you think she’d day if I asked her on a date?”

“Pretty Ricky I know you have a IQ of a million in there so you should be able to run some guesses.”

“So she’d say no,” Spencer said with a pout.

Morgan smacked the back of his head which caused Spencer to let out a loud noise of disapproval. You walked over with Hank in your arms to see Spencer rubbing the back of his head.

“Derek did you hit him?” you asked with a defensive tone.

“He asked a stupid question,” Morgan said in defense.

“Yeah yeah take your kid,” you said handing Hank over to him, “Spence let me get you a drink.”

The only thing he could do was nod and return your smile. You motioned for him to follow you into Rossi’s kitchen. As he walked behind you it took all his strength to not let his eyes drop down to the small wrap you had around your waist covering up the bikini bottoms you had on.

Though the water dripping down your tan back from the tips of your hair didn’t go unnoticed by him.

Reaching into the fridge you pulled out a beer and quickly opened it. He felt his breath hitch as your fingers grazed his while you handed it to him.

“Is that ok? I know you usually like whiskey or something when the team goes to bars but I figured you were driving home so I thought maybe a beer would be better to keep you on your toes,” he had never seen you ramble as if you were nervous. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered at the fact you had been so thoughtful of his drinking choices. Even if it was something so simple.

“Yeah Y/n this is perfect.. You’re perfect,” he said looking down at you.

“Oh- I uh um thank you Spencer. You are quite perfect yourself as well,” you said trying to regain some of your usual confidence.

Neither of you had realized you were standing there until the beat of an all too familiar song brought you out of your trance, lost in his caramel eyes.

Hypnotize by Biggie Smalls

“God I love this song,” you perked up, ready to head back out to the rest of the guests.

“Did you know “Hypnotize” was released just weeks before his death on March 9, 1997,” Spencer tried to say keeping his voice from wavering.

“You know Biggie?” you said with a questioning smile.

“Y/n I grew up in Vegas of course-,” he cut himself off noticing your raised eyebrow, “Ok maybe I didn’t know him that well. I uh asked Morgan for some of your favorite songs to get to know you and did a little research.”

“Aw Spence that’s really sweet. How about you come over tomorrow and I can put you on to some music?”

“I will be there,” he said raising his bottle.

“Great. And Spence, I envy your glasses,” you said with a smirk.

“What? My glasses?”

“Cus they’re sitting on your face and I’m not,” you said winking at him then turning around and heading out the patio door.

He looked in that direction to see Morgan peeking his head in with Hank in his arms. It was crazy to see how such a small child could have such a knowing look on his face.

Spencer groaned and walked back out to the party. Making eye contact with you as you passed on the imaginary microphone to Penelope who gladly took it and sung at the top of her lungs.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x poc!reader #poc!reader #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #chellewrites #spencer reid smut

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

hey I’m not sure if you’re taking prompt requests but I just had this idea if you ever want to write it. I know it’s not anywhere near New Years right now but I had an idea for if there was a little NYE party with all the ppdc staff there. All the homies are just vibing, getting crunk on shitty alchohol or whatever and y’know Newt and Hermann have a lil New Year’s Eve kiss 🥺

That’s all I have to say I hope you’re having a good day!

@owengrose said: Prompt: "My New Year's resolution is to finally tell him I love him."

happy new year’s eve to both of you!!! i let the first one sit in my ask box for a while before getting to it lol. my annual Newmann NYE fic. here’s to hoping next year is moderately better (and I actually get more writing done...)

-------

“Here we are, then,” Hermann says.

He hands Newt a glass of something he concocted at the lab kitchenette—judging by the color, and the pitiful wedge of a clementine garnish he squeezed onto the brim, some sort of gin and tonic, though less tonic and more watermelon La Croix. It was the only thing they could find in the breakroom fridge that would work remotely as a mixer. It’s probably been buried in there for months. “Thanks, dude,” Newt says. Then, noticing the lack of a similar glass in Hermann’s hand, asks “Not drinking?”

“None of that,” Hermann says. “I’ve got a bottle of decent wine buried somewhere under all the rubbish in my desk. I’ll have that if I want any before we go.”

“Suit yourself,” Newt says. “It’ll be more fun if we show up tipsy, I’m telling you.”

New Year’s Eve used to be a lot more exciting when Newt was in school, and young and invincible and all that shit. There were parties—bar crawls—the Times Square ball drop at midnight, queued up on someone’s laptop or a television screen wherever he was—drinking until he needed a classmate (or later colleague) to walk him home. The Shatterdome staff still goes as hard as Newt used to, and God, Newt envies them for it, but the end of the world kinda killed it for him. He just kinda exists in a low, humming state of anxiety now. He and Hermann both. It’s good for them to get out of the lab every now and then and strive for normalcy, and Newt has a feeling Hermann knows it, which is probably why he didn’t put up a fight when Newt suggested they go to the big base party tonight.

Newt still needs a good few drinks in him before he can drink more and pretend to be merry. He finishes the gin and tonic with a wince. “Too much gin,” he says. “Okay, let’s go.”

Newt drinks, and he dances with a few people, and he engages in a few genuine non-work-related-conversations before he finally admits to himself he’d rather just chill with Hermann in one of the deserted corners of the room. Hermann is waiting for him in a stupid gold party hat with a cup of water—what a guy. Always there for Newt. The hat is a cute look on him, too. Newt wonders if he picked it out himself, or if it was forced on him; either scenario is cute.

“I just don’t fancy dealing with your hangover tomorrow,” Hermann says with a sniff, as Newt swallows the water down gratefully after a few thanks. “Last year—”

“Yeah, okay,” Newt says. Last year was bad. He ended up falling asleep on the floor of the lab, and when Hermann made him coffee the next morning, he puked it up all over a very important stack of Hermann’s paperwork and the subsequent shouting match just made his headache worse. Drinking water is good, very good. He kicks his feet up on a nearby vacant chair. The music is loud, and people look like they’re having fun. Normalcy. He and Hermann are just two normal dudes right now, who aren’t fighting monsters from another dimension. “Can you believe we’ve survived another year?”

“Frankly, no,” Hermann admits.

“One whole year,” Newt says. “One whole year of not being squashed by a kaiju, or eaten by a kaiju, or murdered by you…”

Hermann snorts derisively, though a bit of a genuine smile does peek through. “One whole year of you not blowing the laboratory up. That is a feat, isn’t it?”

“You fucking bet it is,” Newt says. He really thought Hermann was going to kill him over the puking incident, and only a day into the new year too. He slings an arm around Hermann’s shoulders. Two normal dudes, and friends at that. He really likes Hermann, y’know, but that might just be the gin and watermelon La Croix talking. “You got any resolutions, dude?”

“Er,” Hermann says.

“I want to try to get into yoga,” Newt says. “For exercise, and shit. We should do it together.” Back when the base enjoyed more funding and workers, Newt was always seeing flyers for weekly yoga classes taped up in the elevator and at the announcement board in the mess; once, he got it so into his mind that he was going to start going that he bought three whole pairs of yoga pants. He never got around to it, of course. The classes kinda fizzled out when the PPDC budget was slashed drastically anyway. Hopefully YouTube videos work just as well, and that the pants still fit him...

“If I’m being honest, Newton,” Hermann says, and Newt spies the tips of his ears turning pink, how cute, “I still haven’t quite managed to accomplish last year’s resolution. Or technically this year’s, I suppose. My—well—my nerves failed me every time I thought I was close.”

"Eh, no big deal,” Newt says. “I never did mine either. I think that’s just as much of a tradition.” He went vegan for all of two weeks before realizing most of the rationing-standard food they served in the mess wasn’t exactly catered to those particular dietary needs. Also, Newt likes fancy lattes too much, and oatmilk just wasn’t kicking it for him. “I totally am gonna do the yoga one though. I need a stress reliever. I don’t wanna go bald before we’re even killed by kaiju, you know?” He crosses his legs. “Or go grey. I can’t decide which is worse. What was yours?”

“Nothing important,” Hermann says quickly. He takes a clumsy sip of his own cup of water, and spills a bit of it down his sweater. Newt decides not to mention. “It must be nearly midnight. Don’t you want to run off to find someone to snog?”

“Nah, not this year, I don’t think,” Newt says. Last year (before the whole blacking out and ruining the paperwork thing), he made out with a ranger he had a crush on for, like, months, and the guy never even called him back. And Newt slipped his official PPDC email into his pocket too. So totally rude. He reaches out and plucks the elastic string holding Hermann’s hat on, and is delighted when Hermann scowls. “You’re stuck with me. Why don’t you find someone to kiss?”

Hermann opens his mouth, and then shuts it. The blush is spreading down from his ears. “I am staying right here, thank you, and I am not kissing anyone.”

“Suit yourself,” Newt says.

“Five minutes to go!” someone in the crowd shouts.

Newt locates a party hat of his own on a nearby table and pulls it on. It’s silver, unlike Hermann’s. He doesn’t think it looks nearly as cute as Hermann’s. “What was your resolution?” he finally asks. The burning curiosity’s too much for him. What did Hermann mean by nerves? Hermann’s never afraid to speak his mind around Newt, at least—Newt can’t remember the last time he’s held back anything. This must be a pretty big thing.

“Oh, it hardly matters now,” Hermann says. “The year’s about to end, isn’t it? Better luck next go around, I suppose.”

“Were you going to request your own lab?” Newt says. That’s a big thing. And it’s a big thing he’d be hesitant to share with Newt, too. Not that Newt would be upset over having his own lab, obviously, sharing with Hermann totally sucks. It’s the worst.

“Mm. No,” Hermann says.

Newt feels a small twinge of relief, but only for a moment. “A different Shatterdome?” It’s the sort of thing Hermann’s always threatening—by Jove, Newton, if you don’t clean this mess up right now, I’m marching into the Marshal’s office, and I’m going to demand...

“Oh, it’s hardly that dramatic,” Hermann says. He plucks at the elastic of his hat this time. “It’s one minute until midnight.”

“Just tell me!” Newt says. Their fellow partygoers start counting down around them. “You’re killing me. I just wanna—”

“Ten—”

“It’s not important,” Hermann says.

“It is to me,” Newt says.

“It’s really not,” Hermann says.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me—”

“Fine,” Hermann says.

He grips the front of Newt’s shirt. Newt shuts up immediately. “I’m in love with you,” Hermann growls, “you wretched little man. That was my bloody resolution.”

“Oh, shit,” Newt squeaks.

Someone pops a bottle of champagne to loud cheers; confetti is suddenly raining down on Newt and Hermann. They totally missed midnight. “Oh, shit,” Newt repeats, and then, because Hermann looks utterly mortified and like he wants to book it out of there as fast as he can, thinks fuck it. He leans forward and kisses Hermann.

“Newton,” Hermann gasps, half in shock, half in delight, and returns it enthusiastically.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous #last fic of 2020!!!!#alcohol cw ///#emeto cw///#(brief ref)

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cuinnamonbun · 4 years ago

Note

The brothers being accidentally in love with the Muslim even though they can’t be with them... would they lowkey convince the MC or would they sulk lol

(Say if it goes for both ways, MC is a hopeless romantic lowkey lmao)

OOF. So much angst. This one is a real brain teaser, I had to read SOO many tragedy poetry and fics to get the feeling so excuse the sentimental writing LMAO. A bit of warning though, I feel as though the brothers are OOC in this which is seriously messing me up, but I didn’t want to leave you bare-handed!

I feel like this HC requires a bit of context in order for people to understand why I wrote the brothers’ reactions the way I did. So I’d like to iterate the fact that I, too, am a hopeless romantic and I definitely believe love can change even the most difficult man. I’ve always had this HC in the Obey Me! universe that every creature is fallible and that the brothers, once fallen, are now much more vulnerable to these new emotions than when they were angels since they’re no longer bound to the service of God y’know?

So with that in mind, onwards to the HC!!

p/s: I’ll post the little brothers’ reactions soon, hope you liked this :)

How the Brothers React to Accidentally Falling in Love with a Devout Muslim MC (Big Brothers)

Lucifer

At first, this man will pursue MC for not-so-wholesome gains (cough corruption kink cough). Lucifer is a very decisive man. He knows what he wants and unashamedly goes after it and he will stop at nothing until it’s rightfully his

But in his pursuit, I could see him actually, really, really falling in love with MC

It’s their pure, kind soul that attracted him initially as with all the other demons, but the more time he spends with them, the more he gets sucked in until all he wants and craves is MC

It’s almost heart-warming if not a bit concerning

However in his chase for MC’s affection, Lucifer would forget one crucial detail: MC is a Muslim, one whom is devout especially now having seen angels, demons and hell right in front of their eyes and when he accidentally witnessed them praying, he will just shut down and instantly remember that they are not meant to be

To put it simply, it’s illogical for them to even be together

When the realisation dawns on him, he immediately turns a full 180 and become a massive dick to MC, even borderline cruel that shocks the brothers

If MC confessed their love to him, Lucifer’s heart would soar in happiness, but his pure, unadulterated love for them would force him to push them away and tell them that he doesn’t reciprocate their feelings

But I could also see his Pride taking factor into this.

A prideful demon such as he, who willingly defied God and fell from Heaven, he would absolutely REFUSE to have his partner so dedicated to God.

It won’t sit well in him at all and it will absolutely leave a bad taste in his mouth

But this doesn’t change the fact that he’s still in love with them, a fact which he DESPISES and is DISGUSTED by

When they left the Devildom, Lucifer would do what Lucifer does best: repress his feelings. That, or take it out on Mammon lol

But seriously though, he would need an outlet for his anger, heartbreak and yearning and he would most definitely drown himself in work or by punishing his brothers.

He can pretend all he wants that he’s fine, but Lucifer’s cues are pretty easy to read especially since MC has managed to get the demon brothers’ to bond with and understand each other deeper beyond surface level (a miraculous feat, kudos to our MC), the others can definitely tell that there’s some serious repression going on

But Lucifer gets very snippy whenever the brothers try to help him with it, which irritates the HELL out of them and they would be too annoyed with him to even bother helping him now

Now that his pride has driven away both the very person whom he loves and his brothers, Lucifer will become even more withdrawn and far, far lonelier than he was before MC came into their lives

Sometimes, he curses the circumstances that led them to him, even if they were the best thing that ever happened to his family

Yeah, heartbroken!Lucifer is just ;((( (Alexa play bitches broken hearts by miss billie eilish)

Mammon

This man is a capital S simp.

Mammon gets attracted to anything shiny/pretty REALLY easily (after all, it’s one of the main reasons why his symbolic animal is a crow) so him being attracted to MC at first didn’t really come as a surprise

I think he knows the difference between finding someone attractive and actually being in love with them despite having never even fallen in love before

He’s lived for centuries and plus, his own sister loved a human, he’s certain he has never felt that for anyone before

Him realising that he’s in love with MC would definitely come as a shock to him though. This tsundere can deny it all he wants, but he can’t deny the fact that MC’s mere presence alone gives him serenity and cardiac arrest at the same time

His initial reaction when he comes to terms with it would definitely be to flee and avoid MC like they’re the plague. But this man pines and when he does, his sin will flare up and MC will find themselves with a very clingy Avatar of Greed by their side

To Mammon, being in love is the equivalent of stepping outside of your home for the first time in weeks and feeling the gentle warmth of the Sun caressing your skin

He is gentler, more compassionate, and more attune to MC’s feelings. He definitely places them above Goldie because they are his most prized possession, the keeper of his heart, the rarest jewel and like everything he treasures, he takes extremely good care of them. But he would NEVERRR let MC or his brothers EVER know about that (sike, everyone knows it, he’s so soft for them it’s so obvious. They find it endearing though)

Which is why when he remembers that they’re Muslim and that they worship God, the very deity he curses and rebel daily against, his heart would break

He isn’t stupid (well, not all the time), he’s lived in the Celestial Realm before. He has seen the humans who reside there once they pass their mortal life. They were infinitely exuberant compared to the ones who were condemned to a lifetime of punishment in the Devildom for their sins

And he could never doom them like that, it would hurt him to see his love miserable and depressed down in the Devildom even if he would want nothing more than for them to be together forever

So, he would bottle up his feelings and try his best to live in the present and enjoy what little time he has with them, even though he felt like that entire year passed by in a flash (which, in demon years, is most definitely like the blink of an eye)

If MC reciprocates his feelings, I can picture him being so, so joyful about that fact, but he knew that their romance is a tragedy right from the beginning. He is a fallen angel, he can’t change his nature and he has transgressed against God in the worst possible way; by swearing eternal enmity towards Him.

I can’t picture him getting over them, even after they’ve passed and are thriving in the Celestial Realm

omg I'm gonna sob Alexa play Smile by Juice WRLD

Leviathan

We all know that Levi thinks of MC as his Henry, his number one best friend

And he’s right. There were no instances of their hangouts being anything more than platonic

When he first started falling for MC, he’d deny it like Mammon did

Him? In love with his best friend? Preposterous.

Eventually he’ll come to realise it though because they were probably watching hilarious videos on the Internet (cough Buzzfeed Unsolved cough) and Levi was so distracted because he was just staring at MC laughing suuuper hard at the video in pure awe. Like his lil demon heart just went doki doki

Pure joy is so beautiful on people and seeing it on MC?? They were pulchritudinous

But even after coming to terms with it though, Levi becomes SUUUUPER shy and embarrassed about that fact that for the first few days, he avoided them because he couldn’t compose himself in their presence

Eventually our beautiful demon of envy will snap out of it by MC cornering him and tearfully telling him that they miss his company

So now they spend even more time together and Levi will slowly become more confident around MC

This means soft, shy touches turn into ‘accidental’ brushes against them then to full lingering touches until finally, he becomes confident enough to throw his arms around them in a hug

Unfortunately, depending on the gender identity of MC, this may not fly all that well

In Islam, contact between opposite sexes whom you have no familial relation to/are not married to is considered a sin (I can elaborate in another post if anyone is interested in it though) and MC will have to politely turn him down, but this doesn’t mean that they hate him. It’s far, far from that

They have to be gentle in their explanation to Leviathan. This man’s self esteem is so low that if MC were to ever recoil from his touch, it would send him into a shame spiral and self deprecating thoughts that is much, much worse than before

So MC will have to remind him that they are Muslim, that they are bound to the services and will of God.

This reminder will destroy him though and his sin will absolutely consume him

He would become so, so envious of God that someone as amazing and wonderful as his MC is so dedicated to Him, and in his envy, comes wrath.

Though his wrath is not as potent as Satan’s, it is enough for him to act irrationally and ruin his friendship with MC

He just couldn’t stand to be around them because all he wanted to do is to hold them, kiss them and love them and his envy for them will become too much that he will start to breakdown because of it

I do picture him being a yandere though with his being the Avatar of Envy. If MC returns his feelings, it might be best that they keep it to themselves and not make it known because this man WILL latch on to them and never let them go

He would absolutely turn them against God if it meant he gets to be with them for eternity even after they die

#obey me! shall we date?#obey me #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me mammon x mc #obey me levi x mc #muslim!mc #obey me x muslim!mc #swd lucifer #swd mammon #swd leviathan #wow levi's went from super wholesome to super dark real quick #angst

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noonaishere · 3 years ago

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@luvvvx lol, thank you. I’m glad you like it, it was very difficult considering my cat was assaulting me the whole time I was trying to put it together 🤣🤣 (Sort of like right now, lol)

(Putting a read more because this ended up being longer than I expected)

See it’s actually because I learned from trying - years ago - that I can’t write serially. Like, I can’t just sit down once a week and write a chapter of a fic and upload it and then go off and live the rest of my life and expect to sit down a week later and still have the same level of interest in the project; I still have an unfinished fic on my AO3 that is testament to this. I really envy people that can do that, because unless I ride that hyperfixation wave all the way up to the shore of Actually Finishing Something, it’s never going to get done. (Like, I was one of those students who waited until the last second to do anything because that’s the only time the deadline felt like it was real at all?? If that makes sense lol) This normally manifests in me doing some variation of a Nanowrimo-style thing working on something for a straight month until it’s done and I’m mildly burned out on it and can’t even look at it for a week after.

Basically, I wrote this for every Fri-Sun during May of this year (as I had work from Mon-Thu); then divided it into “parts” for upload (roughly based around scene changes or time jumps); made all the text screenshots (which was probably the worst part, my carpal tunnel was like “SURPRISE BITCH!” from all the typing on my phone and I was like “Dear GOD, no!!”); then I made this tumblr and premade the posts as drafts so they were all in number order and I could add the pictures and/or text after; added all the pictures and text once they were all done; figured out the dates that everything would have to update and then put them into a document (so I would never have to figure them out again because oh my god, that was tedious lol) and copy/pasted the dates into the schedule part of each post and scheduled them.

... then as it started uploading, I realized I needed to have a couple more scenes to make a few points a bit clearer (and I just finished the last one and still have to make a post lol)

So like, it was a lot of work in the behind the scenes sense, but now I get to kind of chill while it updates on its own and enjoy everyone’s reactions to it without the pressure of “Shit, I have to write this week’s thing.”

As for new stories...

I thought of maybe doing kind of a “choose your own adventure” (like a Twine or something) style fic with Ateez where you get to choose which member you have important moments of the story with and which one you end the story with, but that would require writing certain scenes 8 times and that’s..... a lot, lol. So idk about that one. (That might actually be easier if I had someone else to write it with lol)

I also have been having ideas for an original story that takes place in the kpop industry, but that’s not a fanfic, soooo...

I was also thinking of finishing the unfinished fic I mentioned, since I still have most of the original notes and maybe turning it into an enemies to lovers or something? It wasn’t kpop though lol

And then I also have like... four original things that I need to so something with. Like... a something that involves me getting paid for having written it lolol. Like, I’d love to find an artist and do them as webcomics, honestly.

But if you’re interested, I have some older fics on my AO3:

An oc/Deucalion (Teen Wolf) fic. My first one. I think there’s some formatting funkiness in there somewhere, but I might have fixed it? I literally can’t remember anymore. This has smut.

An oc/Loki (MCU) one. This has smut as well. One chapter is just 10k of almost all smut.

An oc/Malachi (Riverdale). This doesn’t have smut, but it’s also the unfinished one.

An oc/real person fic (Henry Cavill), which is only like 30k (smutless), and I wrote it because I wanted to try writing something with the structure of the first season of The Witcher (re: time jumps and that narrative circle).

Soooo, yeah. I tend to jump from fandom to fandom as I find interesting things or get bored of them lol.

I’m not totally sure what I’m going to work on next 🤣

#luvvvx #damnit I was trying to post this before 12 #I rambled a lot I'm sorry lolol #but at least I can finish it since 12 means it's time for my cat's lunchtime dry food #so she'll leave me alone now 🤣🤣🤣

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thesassenachswiftie · 4 years ago

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Lover - Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12

Summary: Claire and Jo go Christmas shopping; Claire gets a call at work that Lamb’s in the hospital in Boston where she fears she will need to spend the holidays without Jamie. In short: angst, but make it festive.

" This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because 'Cause I have to

Ooh-ah, you'll get better..."

CW: cancer, hospitals, illness of a loved one,

Notes: First of all, if you’re still here, thank you for reading, and thank you for bearing with me as I took a small hiatus. Hopefully I will be getting back to a more regular posting schedule, but work is really draining right now and it’s hard to find enough hours in the day to do everything.

As you know, each Chapter of this fic is based off a Taylor Swift song by the same name. This one was particularly difficult to write/approach because I actually haven’t listened to this song in over a year. In early Summer 2019, a tumor was found on my grandfather’s brain. This was also the summer I discovered Outlander, and the summer Taylor Swift released Lover. The day after Lover came out, I broke down sobbing in my apartment listening to this song and thinking about my grandfather, knowing his condition was worsening. That night, I recieved the call that my grandfather had passed. He was the kindest, purest soul and I write this chapter in part as a tribute to him. Many of the experiences Claire and Lamb share are based on my own experiences with my grandpa that summer, and this version of Lamb is very much based on my Grandpa Jim.

That being said, you may want to grab a box of tissues before reading, but hopefully not all your tears will be sad. I’m hoping to post again before Chistmas, but in case I don’t Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays--and Happy Hanukkah to any Jewish readers I may have--here is a Hanukkah present for you!

Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”

“All I want for Christmas is yooouuuuu” the sounds of Mariah Carey rang out throughout the small boutique gift shop in the heart of the village of Northport.

“Good God, we’re only a week into December and I swear I’ve already heard this song three hundred times. I’m not exaggerating either. Two hundred and eight-four at the very least.” Jo scoffed exasperatedly.

“Are you complaining?” Claire asked in reply. “It’s a great song--a classic really.”

“Do you know how many incredible, amazing, beautiful, jolly Christmas songs there are in existence?” Jo was gearing up for one of their famous rants, “Yet, the radio stations only ever play the same eighteen songs, I swear!”

“It must be more than eighteen.”

“Fine. Twenty. Take this song for instance: Ingrid Michaelson has the most hauntingly beautiful cover of it--do you ever hear it? No! You only ever hear Mariah!”

“I, for one, like Mariah!” Claire interjected, playfully defensive.

“Who doesn’t? But she’s not the only powerhouse female vocalist out there! I’d just like to see a little diversity in my holiday music, is that so much to ask?”

Claire giggled. Her best friend always had an opinion on everything and she loved them all the more for it. “Do you think Jenny would like this candle?” Claire unscrewed the lid a locally-made jar candle, taking a sniff before placing it under Jo’s nose. It smelled like Lavender and Sage with just a hint of Eucalyptus.

“Does Jenny keep a lot of candles around, with all those children?” Jo chuckled back. “It does smell nice though.” Jo had only met Jenny a couple times when visiting Claire, but they had a knack for reading people and Claire was glad to have them along as a shopping partner.

“I suppose candles aren’t really her thing. Jenny seems very practical, but I don’t know what she would need that she doesn’t already have, and Jamie’s been no help!”

“I think you’re on the right track with the self-care/relaxation vibe, but maybe not something the children can use to burn the house down. What about an artisanal lotion set?” Jo inquired, gesturing at a nearby display.

“Oh that might work!” Claire took a squirt from the bottle labeled ‘tester’ inhaling deeply as she rubbed it between her palms. “Ooo that’s nice, I would appreciate this if I were a hardworking mother.”

“If things keep going the way they are with your man, LJ, you might just be before you know it” Jo made a lewd gesture with their hands, raising their eyebrows to make it clear exactly what they were implying.

“Jo! You’re terrible” Claire shrieked, smacking her friend playfully on the arm. Besides, not much of that happening these days if you haven’t noticed, Jamie is literally across the ocean.”

“Well, at least you can’t get knocked up from phone sex,” Jo replied. “What are you getting him anyway? I’m thinking something lacy and strappy, with little bows on it of course, to be festive. There’s a place down the street that might have something like that.”

“Hmm” Claire exhaled. “We’ll see.” Claire knew lingerie was definitely going to be part of Jamie’s Christmas gift, one she would be most excited for him to unwrap. God, she missed him. It had been over a month and they were settling into a routine, video chatting every night, sweet texts back and forth throughout the day, the occasional phone sex when they were both sick with desire for one other--but nothing was the same as the feel of their bodies pressed against each other in the heat of the moment, chasing each other’s climax. Claire couldn’t wait to be reunited with him in every way.

It was two days before Christmas break, only a few days left until Claire would find freedom for the next ten days and, most of all--the comfort of Jamie’s arms. Claire was sitting in her school nurse’s office, inhaling deeply during the first quiet moments she’d had all week. There was an uptick of student visits in the past couple weeks--a few were legitimate concerns tied to cold and flu season: students whose parents sent them to school when they weren’t quite well enough, overachievers who wanted to maintain their perfect attendance dragging themselves to school despite their bodies protestations. Most of her patients however, were suffering from something much more insidious: the eagerness to start their winter break early by skipping their classes. This time of year the air of the school felt different, students and teachers alike were burnt out, apathetic, and ready for a break. This attitude in the students fed into the teachers’ attitudes--overworked with the end of the marking period, trying to squeeze in Christmas shopping and decorating between grading. Claire did not envy Jo nor any of the other teachers during this time, but their exhaustion was so palpable in the air of the school that she was starting to feel it too. By tomorrow, most teachers would be shutting their doors and playing a holiday film, giving up on instruction all together--hopefully that would make for a quiet day for Claire. Really, if she could just get through the rest of the day it would be smooth sailing until Christmas--until Jamie.

Her silent musings were broken by the blaring sound of her office phone. She was expecting a teacher, calling to send a student down, but instead it was the school clerk, Glenda. “Hi Nurse Beauchamp, we have an outside call for you, it seems like it may be a personal call so if there’s any students with you we can send someone down to watch them if you’d like to take it privately here in the office.”

Claire's heart sank to her stomach. What could it be? She took a deep breath and swallowed to brace herself before replying “last student just left.”

“Alright, I’ll transfer you now.” The click of the call transferring sounded through the phone.

“Hello, this is Miss Beauchamp”

“Hello Miss Beauchamp, I’m Tammy, a nurse at Mass General we’re calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact for Quentin Beauchamp” a nasally voice croaked through the phone speaker--the voice was impersonal like that of a cashier saying “have a nice day” for the thousandth time, not fitting of a potential harbinger of death.

“Yes…” Claire replied, nervously, questioningly.

“Mr. Lambert was admitted this morning after showing signs of cognitive distress. An initial cat scan shows a mass on his brain. He’s currently undergoing testing to see if it’s cancerous.”

Claire’s lungs felt like they were about to collapse. Lamb had been diagnosed with prostate cancer several years ago, but had been able to live with it through treatment. Claire also knew that cancer was insidious and could spread throughout the body rapidly and without warning. She knew it was very likely that the mass was cancer. She tried to find her medical professional voice, but a diagnosis was different when it was someone you loved. Instead, she croaked out, “when will you know?”

“We should have the results by tomorrow. He’ll stay here overnight for monitoring and we’ll decide whether to admit him long term from there.”

“I’m on Long Island, should I drive up?”

“I’m afraid it’s too soon to tell, it could be nothing, but--” Claire cut her off, knowing exactly how bad it could be.

“I understand. I’ll drive up this evening.”

“Alright, he should be back in his room by then, he’s out getting his tests done now. It’s room 713 when you get here.” Claire wrote the number on a bright blue sticky note on her desk as the nurse spoke. “Have a nice day Ms. Beauchamp”

“Hmm” was all she could reply, as if she could possibly have a nice day. She hung up the phone, and finally let the deluge of tears she’d been holding back free.

She allowed herself to cry for a few minutes to get it out, but she knew she had to get to Boston as soon as possible. She picked up the phone again and dialed the main office.

“Hi Glenda, it’s Claire. I need to take the rest of the day off--I have to go to Boston, my uncle…” she couldn’t say it out loud for fear of unleashing the tears again “Is Principal Gowan there, I need to let him know.”

“Oh Nurse Beauchamp, I’m so sorry to hear that, let me know if you need anything. Mr. Gowan’s in his office, I’ll transfer you to him now, if he doesn’t answer just pack up your things and go, I’ll take care of it”

“Thanks Glenda, I really appreciate it”

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After getting the ok from her kind and understanding principal, Claire rushed back to Jamie’s apartment, hastily packed a bag (likely forgetting several things), informed Jenny where she was going--which was met with sympathy and genuine concern--and hopped back in the car for the journey to Boston. She entered the hospital doors several hours later, the buttons of her coat were tangled in her hair as she rushed, breathless, to the front desk to receive her visitor’s pass.

When she arrived at Lamb’s room, he was asleep. She didn’t want to wake him, but she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze to let him know she was there before settling into the armchair beside him to await his awakening. He looked so frail and small in the hospital bed, not at all like the strong, spirited man who had raised her. He had left the television on--some sports channel was playing a highlight reel of various golfing moments. No wonder Lamb fell asleep. Claire was staring at the screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere: worried about Lamb, wondering if she’d remember everything when she hastily packed, wondering what the future held. Would she have to spend Christmas in this hospital room? A golf ball soared across the Scottish Highlands on the screen. Jamie. Jamie was coming home Christmas Eve, she was supposed to pick him up from the airport, supposed to spend her holiday break with him, experience her first Hogmanay with the Murray family, be surrounded by love and laughter and family. Lamb was supposed to be fine, he was supposed to take the train down, spend Christmas with them. Every plan they had made was shattered into a million pieces. Would she even be able to see Jamie? She thought about the presents she’d bought for him, not yet wrapped, piled in the closet but definitely not hidden, especially considering it was his apartment. Of course he’d understand--she could tell him where they were, but the magic of unwrapping would be lost, it would feel entirely unsentimental. It was bad enough that she felt her gifts weren’t sentimental enough--what could she possibly get him to show how special he was to her? How could she communicate that with an object? If she were a painter she would paint him a painting, if she were a songwriter she would write him a song, but she was simply Claire, and practical gifts were all she knew. She had purchased a cozy blue sweater to match his eyes and keep him warm in the brisk London winters, a cool multi-tool the size of a credit card that would fit in his wallet and help him solve a variety of problems, a protective case for his phone, and a box of artisanal beef jerky. She had also procured a complicated piece of lingerie with a big red bow across the chest for him to unwrap the night of Christmas, which she knew he would enjoy. Everything was thoughtful enough and mostly practical, but she longed to be able to give him something truly special--a grand gesture to match her feelings for him. Claire glanced back at her uncle and immediately felt guilty being so selfish. I hate to make this all about me. Lamb always had a knack for helping her realize what was important when life’s situations overwhelmed her. She needed him for perspective, but how could she talk to him about this? How could she tell him how she felt? She knew it was wrong, but she was mad at him for getting sick so close to Christmas. Who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do if there’s no you? The tears were welling up in her eyes as she watched her most beloved uncle sleep--hooked up to machines, pale and listless in the hospital bed.

Claire slipped into the adjoining bathroom to try to compose herself--she didn’t want her uncle to wake up and see her upset, she knew he would try to comfort her, to be the rock he always had been for her. She was here to be his rock this time, she needed to stay strong for him. She looked at herself in the mirror, telling herself it was going to be ok--her uncle was strong and he’d been fighting a long time--he’d continue to fight. Soon you’ll get better. She had to convince herself it was true, pretend it wasn’t real, it wasn’t so bad. She knew it was a delusion, she could see it all over her glass face when she looked in the mirror. She was genuinely afraid that this could be when she lost him, if not physically right away, he could be lost mentally. She’d been hoping for years he would get better, but now it seemed he’d taken a turn for the worse. She took a few deep breaths and offered up a prayer. She wasn’t usually religious, but they say desperate people find faith, so she decided it was time to try. God? Jesus? Whoever is up there. I know I don’t much deserve anything from you, I’m not sure I’m exactly on good terms with you, but I’m inclined to believe you care and you are good. Besides, I’m not really asking anything for myself, not really. I just pray my Uncle is ok, I pray he gets better. He has to. Please don’t take his brilliant mind away from him. Please let him be ok. Please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him. Just please, please, don’t take him away from me. I need him. Please let him get better. Please let him get better. Claire continued to repeat the words like a mantra as she returned to her bedside chair. She stared at the collection of orange bottles on the tray table. Please let them help him get better. Please let him get better. Please, please, please let him get better.

Claire had no idea how long she sat there, repeating those words to herself, but her silent appeal was interrupted when a nurse entered the room to check her uncle’s vitals.

“Hi, I’m Brenda, I’ll be the nurse on duty tonight.” Brenda erased a name on a small whiteboard in front of the room and replaced it with her own.

“I’m Claire, I’m his niece.”

Brenda had made her way over to the other side of the bed and was checking the monitors beside the bed, making notes on the chart in her hand. “I hate waking them up, but I’m going to have to.” Claire was glad that she was much kinder than the nurse she had spoken with on the phone earlier—had that really been earlier? It seemed much longer since that phone call. “Excuse me, Quentin? Sir?” Brenda gently nudged his arm to awaken him. Lamb’s eyes fluttered open and he looked disoriented, Claire watched him carefully hoping that his disorientation was solely from being awoken mid-sleep and not from any neurological damage.

“Hi Uncle Lamb” Claire stammered, hoping she sounded cheerful anyway.

“Claire! My girl! You came all the way to see your old uncle!”

“Of course I did! How are you?” she replied warmly.

“Oh, I’m fine, they’re taking good care of me here.” Lamb’s voice sounded genuinely content and Claire felt comforted for the first time since the hospital had called her earlier that day.

“Hello sir, my name’s Brenda, I’ll be your nurse tonight. I just need to ask you a few questions and check your vitals.”

“What is your name?”

“Quentin Lambert Beauchamp”

“Good. When is your birthday?

“March 23th, 1939”

“Good, and who is the president?”

“Well, unfortunately…” both Claire and Brenda giggled at how Lamb began his sentence. Claire was well aware of Lamb’s opinions of the current president of the United States, and was glad to see he hadn’t lost his sly sense of humor or his disdain for the man. She was also glad he knew who the president was, hopefully his mental capacities were more promising than the worst-case-scenario her mind was conjuring.

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Claire stayed by her uncle’s side for the rest of the night, only leaving the room twice, once to find something to eat from a vending machine, and once for her nightly call to Jamie. She allowed herself to break down when talking to Jamie, sobbing over the phone. Jamie did his best to comfort her through the speaker, desperately wishing he could be there for her in person. Claire wished the same, longing to curl up in his strong embrace, and bury her swollen face in his chest. She couldn’t bring up the fact that she might have to spend Christmas in Boston. She was enough of a mess without facing the reality that they wouldn’t see each other, and when Jamie promised they’d see each other soon at the end of their call, Claire hung up quickly as another wave of emotion overtook her and she buried her face in her hands to cry some more.

The next morning, the doctor came in with Lamb’s results. Claire grasped Lamb’s hand, unsure of who was holding onto whom for comfort as the doctor explained that the mass on Lamb’s brain was in fact cancerous, but it was still relatively small and had been caught early. He explained that they could operate on it and remove it, however there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t come back or that they’d be able to get it all out. It was moments like these where Claire desperately wished she was already a surgeon, that she could feel in control of the outcome--though could she operate on her own uncle? Would she be able to hold her hand steady enough to do a good job? No, perhaps it was best left to the veteran surgeons in Boston.

After discussing all the details and options with the doctor’s, Lamb decided to go through with the surgery. It was scheduled for the day after Christmas and Claire resigned herself to the sobering fact that she’d be spending the holidays in the hospital. As the florescent hospital lights lit the room with an unnatural glow, Claire couldn’t tell him she was scared. She had to stay strong, she had to keep it together and remain positive and supportive.

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Claire spent the next few days devoted to her uncle, rarely leaving his bedside. Lamb had forced her to spend the nights at his apartment, which was probably for the best. She wasn’t sleeping well to begin with and the recliner at the hospital was only making matters worse. Claire was present and doting on him from morning to night though, helping her uncle order his meals, assisting him when he needed to use the restroom, adding and removing pillows and blankets as needed, or anything else he needed or wanted. Lamb had been moved to the cancer floor, and the window of his new room had a nice view of the Boston skyline. Lamb was making the best of a bad deal, he bragged about his ‘luxury accommodations’, he cracked jokes often, he liked the nicer nurses, he ordered extra dessert with all his meals and was in generally pleasant spirits. Claire could see the cracks in his cognition though. Sometimes he would change the topic he was discussing mid-sentence, and he couldn’t seem to keep time straight. Whenever anyone would mention Christmas, he would act surprised to know that it was coming up, and at one point he hinted at Claire that she might just get those roller skates she wanted for Christmas, a gift she had not asked for since she was eleven years old. He didn’t seem to know what year it was or how old Claire was. He did know who Claire was though, and for that she was thankful. He also knew who the president was whenever the nurses asked, always beginning his answer with a short preamble to make known his disdain.

Before they knew it, it was Christmas Eve and Claire couldn’t hide the sadness she felt on her face. She was glad to spend the evening with Lamb, but she had been looking forward to her first big family Christmas. She had filled in Jamie about Lamb’s condition and her subsequent stay in Boston over the course of their phone calls that week. She had also describe the Christmas gifts she had purchased for the Murrays, Jo, and Lamb, so Jamie would know the rest were for him. Jamie had agreed to put the Murrays gifts in gift bags and distribute them for her. They were meant to exchange family gifts that evening, the morning being reserved for Santa, and Claire was heartbroken to be missing out. In a matter of hours, and for the first time in two months, her and Jamie would be on the same continent, yet they wouldn’t be able to see each other. There was no way Claire could get into the Christmas spirit under these conditions. The hospital, despite being modestly decorated, was not the most festive atmosphere. Even a troop of Girl Scouts caroling their way through the hospital halls did nothing to assuage the weight of losing everything Claire had been looking forward to for the past two months.

“What’s a matter, my dear?” Lamb asked, showing genuine concern for his niece.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine, I promise, I’m just wishing things were different today.”

“Why today? Is it something special? I can’t seem to remember.”

“It’s Christmas Eve. You were supposed to come to Long Island and meet Jamie. We were going to spend the holiday with his family.”

“Yes, I remember, that’s today? Oh dear, I haven’t gotten your gift yet I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine, Lamb, I’m afraid I left your gift at home, so we’ll have to do that part later. We can take a raincheck on gift exchanging. I was just really looking forward to you getting to know Jamie.”

“I’m sure I’ll meet the lad soon; he seems really special to you.”

“He is; I know you’ll like him.”

“I already do.” He patted the top of her hand and turned his attention back to the sitcom on the television, providing humorous commentary to try to cheer Claire up.

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It was late Christmas morning. Uncle Lamb was napping again and Claire had switched the television to the Hallmark Channel--usually her guilty pleasure this season, today it was simply reminding her of how her Christmas was proving to be less than magical. For her there would be no Christmas kisses, no magical snowfall, no saving the small town family business or learning to love Christmas again. All that awaited her this Christmas were fluorescent lights, beeping monitors, and nurses visiting every 6 hours to check her uncle’s vitals. This Christmas would be decidedly the most un-magical she had ever experienced. She had had her share of unconventional Christmases in the past, in fact, she never really was a Christmas person, but it had started to feel special to her when she was living in New York. This Christmas though--this was one she was looking forward to more than ever before. Claire spent most of the morning crying, grieving over all she was missing. She should have spent the morning curled up in Jamie’s arms, watching the children open presents. She could picture the Murray’s living room, trashed with colorful wrapping paper from end to end, each child in their own private world fascinated by their latest favorite toy, Jenny and Ian beaming through tired eyes.

Claire was surprised Jamie hadn’t called her to fill her in on the details yet. He had called yesterday when his plane arrived--groggy and jet-lagged, his communication skills were not the most eloquent, but he tried his best to make her feel better. She hadn’t heard from him at all this morning though, not even a Merry Christmas text. Surely the jet lag would have woken him up as early as the children, and they must have been done opening presents by now. Claire tried to rationalize that Jamie was just spending time with his family, but she couldn’t help feeling hurt and ignored. She thought she was important enough to him that he could take a moment away from his family to at least text her, or to find some way to make her feel included from afar. Had his feelings changed in their months apart? Did coming home to a messy apartment turn him off? Did she find his Christmas gifts and come to think she didn’t care enough to get him something more thoughtful? She thought about calling him, but a mixture of pride and fear kept her from acting first, not to mention she couldn’t stop crying over these sappy Christmas movies.

Suddenly, a voice from the doorway rang through the room, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!” Claire looked up in confusion, momentarily unable to comprehend her surroundings and the disruption that had just entered them. Santa? No. The tall figure filling the door frame was dressed like Santa, beard and all, but the unmistakable Scottish burr gave away his true identity. If Claire hadn’t already been crying, she certainly was now. Jamie was standing in the doorway, dressed in a Santa suit, carrying a large, blue IKEA bag overflowing with wrapped presents and what appeared to be Christmas decorations.

“What?” Claire could hardly believe he was there, she rose from the chair and the couple met in the middle of the room for a hearty embrace. Claire buried her face in the soft, fluffy suit covering Jamie’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Perhaps the setting wasn’t a snow covered street in a small town, but this was her own Hallmark movie moment--and to be honest, those Hallmark guys had nothing on James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. Jamie held her close, and tight, planting kisses in her curls and whispering softly to her.

“I’m here, mo nighean donn.” He caressed her shoulders with his thumbs, not releasing his embrace in the slightest, breathing in her scent, trying to absorb her fears and pain.

All of the commotion had awoken Uncle Lamb and after witnessing the couples’ embrace for longer than was comfortable, Lamb loudly cleared his throat to remind them of his presence in the room.

“Uncle Lamb!” Claire unfolded herself from Jamie’s embrace, keeping one arm around his back. Jamie sheepishly pulled the fake beard down around his neck to reveal his face and removed his Santa hat, clutching it tightly in the palm that wasn’t holding Claire. “This is Jamie, my Jamie. Jamie, this is my Uncle Lamb.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad it’s not Santa Claus, or we’d have a lot of explaining to do to the lad!” Lamb chuckled back.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” Jamie reluctantly released Claire from his grasp to step beside the bed, extending a firm but gentle hand to Lamb. “I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

“Pleased to meet you as well, lad” Lamb replied, patting Jamie’s hand with his before releasing their handshake. “And don’t you worry about me, I have the best nurse there is taking care of me.” Two sets of proudly smiling eyes met Claire across the room.

“Oh I dinna doubt it for a second. Your niece is a rare woman.”

“Glad to see we’re in agreement. Now what’s all that?” Lamb gestured towards the large tote discarded near Claire’s feet.

“Aye, I thought I’d bring you two a bit o’ holiday cheer.” Jamie pulled a large cardboard box from the bag and extracted a small tabletop Christmas tree from it, unfurling each branch carefully and placing it on the countertop across the room, plugging it in to reveal fiber optic lights changing colors dreamily. “I usually insist on my Christmas trees being more, well, alive, but under the circumstances this’ll have tae do.” Jamie and Claire spent the next half hour or so festooning the room in garlands and placing tiny ornaments on the small tree. Claire tried to ignore that more than half of the bag was filled with brightly wrapped gifts, not sure whether she was hoping they were all for her, or hoping that they weren’t. After all, she didn’t have anything to give him and she didn’t know if he had looked through his gifts yet nor if he had appreciated them.

While they decorated, Jamie filled Claire and Lamb in on the events of the last few days. Jamie had called Jenny to tell her not to bother picking him up from the airport. He had planned on renting a car there and driving straight to Boston. Claire could hear Jenny’s voice loud and clear through Jamie’s imitation “ya clotheid! Have ya gone daft? Yer barely able to form coherent sentences amidst the jet lag from yer Christmas Eve flight, and ya wanna drive five hours tae Boston in that state!?! Claire willna appreciate ya ending up in a ditch on the side of the road as a Christmas present ya eejit!” Jenny had made a fair point, and Jamie had agreed to sleep at home and left shortly after he awoke that morning, staying only long enough for the children to open their stockings, and to watch their faces alight with surprise at the sudden appearance of piles of presents under and around the tree.

“I’m glad you took Jenny’s advice, but most of all I’m glad you’re here.” She embraced him again. “You didn’t have to do this though, Jamie, I know how important your family is to you.”

Jamie stepped back and lifted Claire’s chin with his thumb, looking into her eyes. “You are important to me, Sassenach.” he replied, with a sincerity that penetrated Claire’s heart. Claire responded by kissing Jamie chastely on the cheek, knowing her uncle was only four feet away--politely trying to ignore them and watch the television which he had flipped to an all-day marathon of A Christmas Story on repeat. Jamie’s welcome intrusion broke up the monotony of hospital life and seemed to give Lamb a better sense of what day it was.

“Now that we’ve got the place looking good and festive, I believe it’s traditional to exchange gifts on Christmas day.”

“Jamie, it’s too much, I--”

“Oh? Thought they were all for you, didja Sassenach?” he teased. Claire blushed. Of course; she hadn’t really--but who else would they be for? Surely Jamie wouldn’t spoil Lamb, a complete stranger to him, quite so much, and no one else was there. She looked dumbfounded as she tried to come up with a defense but Jamie stopped her. “Dinna fash, Sassenach, Jenny wrapped your gifts for me and Lamb before I could see and I bought them along too. She thanks ya for the wee lotions, by the way.”

“God bless Jenny! That woman is a Saint.” Claire also silently thanked God that she had left the present she was planning on wearing for Jamie that evening in her dresser drawer, that was not a gift she wanted Jenny to see, and was definitely not something she wanted him to be opening in front of her uncle.

The three exchanged gifts, save Lamb, who had nothing to give but smiles and approval for the young couples’ thoughtful gifts. Jamie was genuinely appreciative of Claire’s gifts, although she kept insisting that she hadn’t finished shopping and there was more to come; to which Jamie humbly rejected, claiming it wasn’t necessary. Jamie’s gifts to Claire were thoughtful and meaningful, the most touching ones being a print of a painting of the rose garden he had ordered from the Botanic Garden’s gift shop and a bracelet engraved with the words perennis amor, which caused Claire to tear up and embrace him tenderly in spite of her uncle’s presence.

The three enjoyed the rest of the day thoroughly. A Christmas Story played in the background and they laughed and shared stories with one another. Jamie was a born storyteller and Lamb was elated to have a fresh audience to recount his many adventures to, so conversation flowed naturally between them, with Claire occasionally interjecting. Claire mostly just sat back and admired the two men who were most important to her, filled with joy that they were getting along, that Jamie was there, that it was Christmas. For the first time in several days she had hope and peace. She was surrounded by love in that hospital room as well. She had all the things Christmas was said to bring, and for that she was grateful. Jamie had made her greatest Christmas wishes come true without her even asking and she felt lucky to be alive.

The hospital staff served their version of Christmas dinner for the small family, and while Claire was sure it paled in comparison to whatever Jenny had made, it was quite delicious, especially considering it was hospital food. Jamie ate in the armchair next to Lamb at Claire’s insistence, since the two were deep in conversation, and Claire sat in the chair on the other side of Jamie, taking in her magical Christmas scene, better than any Hallmark movie could depict.

After dinner, Jamie was fading fast, listening to one of Lamb’s stories with heavy eyes. She took one of the spare blankets and covered Jamie. “Looks like you’re still not over your jet lag”

“Hrmmphh, I ‘spose not.”

“Do you want me to go get you a coffee? I doubt the cafe downstairs is open today, but there’s a cappuccino vending machine a few floors down that isn’t terrible.”

“Aye Sassenach, that’d be bonny. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all, my love, I’ll be back soon.” Claire squeezed his hand before leaving the two men alone.

Jamie listened to her footsteps down the hall, and waited until he heard the ding of the elevator before he cleared his throat to speak frankly to Lamb. He sat up straight in the chair to ward off the sleepiness, having a few important things he wanted to say before Claire came back.

“Lamb, I need you to know, Claire is the most important person in my life. I love her sae much and I’d do anything for her.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I can see how happy you make her. She lights up when you’re around, it comforts my old heart to see.”

“I need you tae know, I’m very serious about her. I ken we haven’t been together that long, but I know--I know deep in my wame that I’m meant tae be hers. I want ya to know that I intend on spending the rest of my life making her happy, and while I havna bought a ring or ennathing yet, I wanted to ask yer blessing” Jamie paused for a moment before adding, “just in case.”

“Of course you have my blessing, son. I couldn’t be more glad to know that Claire will be so well cared for after I’m gone, truly.” Both men looked somber, knowing full well that this could be their last conversation, hoping dearly that it wasn’t. Claire returned with three cappuccinos in hand, surprised by the mood in the room.

“Everything alright, gentlemen? Don’t tell me Ralphie shot his eye out!”

“Och! Everything’s fine, Claire! I’m just tired is all, I’m sure this wee cappuccino will cure me in no time!” replied Jamie, eagerly taking a cup from Claire as she set another on Lamb’s tray table. The rest of the evening was quiet as Jamie took a nap, while Lamb and Claire watched A Christmas Story more intently then they had all day. Claire didn’t want to leave him alone so early on Christmas so she let Jamie nap until Lamb was asleep soundly for the night. The sense of joy she had felt all day was still present, but the nagging worry she felt about Lamb’s coming surgery was starting to settle in as well. Claire woke Jamie gently and Claire whispered softly to Lamb that they’d return in the morning, squeezing his hand before the couple quietly left the room.

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They walked out to Jamie’s car, since he still had his stuff packed in it, but Claire drove them back to Lamb’s apartment where she’d been staying. The cappuccino was helping Jamie stay coherent, but he was in no state to drive. They were quiet on the drive home, but kept their hands locked between the seats, grateful just to be in the presence of one another.

When they arrived at Lamb’s apartment, Jamie was so tired, he didn’t even want to brush his teeth, let alone do any of his usual nightly routines. However, he had spent the morning sweating in a polyester Santa suit over his clothes, and although he took it off shortly after his surprise arrival, he felt in need of a shower. Claire showed him where the bathroom was and made sure he had everything he needed, and got herself ready for bed.

Jamie showered quickly, not bothering to wash his hair, and only cleaning the parts of his body where any stench would be most concentrated, figuring the water would take care of the rest. A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, ready to collapse into bed, but not before embracing his sorcha. He scooped her into his embrace and she buried her face in his bare, firm chest, warm from the shower. He smelled clean, and fresh and most of like Jamie. “I’m so happy you’re with me, Jamie. You have no idea how much it means to me that you’re here.” the emotions of the day hit her again and her voice caught at the end of her sentence as tears filled her eyes once again. Jamie kissed her forehead softly, down to her nose, and landed on her lips, giving her the firm, passionate kiss they’d both been longing for all day--and for months before that.

“Mo cridhe.” Jamie breathed when they separated. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll no’ leave you alone when ya need me.”

“Oh Jamie” Claire was still crying, “I’ve been so worried. I’ve been trying to stay strong for Lamb, but I feel like this won’t go back to normal--if there ever was a normal with him. I’m scared he’s going to get worse, or--” her sentence dissolved into a fit of sobs, which she tried to stifle on Jamie’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay strong when you’re with me. I’ll be here to help you shoulder the burden. I’ll be here to soak up your tears. There’s two of us now, Claire.” He pressed a kiss into her curls. “You can feel your feelings now, mo cridhe. Lay your cares on me. Come now, let’s get ya tae bed. I’m no’ sure how much longer I can stand myself.”

Claire fell asleep wrapped safely in Jamie’s embrace, free to be herself fully. Free to be vulnerable she felt safe, she felt loved, she felt comfortable, and most new to her--she felt she had the hope and strength that she could carry on, no matter what was to come. She slept better than she had in weeks, secure in the embrace of her eternal love.

End Notes: Thanks again for reading!! By the way, the Ingrid Michaelson song Jo mentions is hauntingly beautiful and you should listen to it. Also, I hope you liked Jamie's surprise. This was going to be a lot more angsty of a chapter but Jamie refused to let Claire suffer and had other plans. I know this was full of a lot of emotional ups and downs, and hopefully we can all find some comfort in the fact that just because Christmas/the holidays may look different for a lot of us this year, it can still be special, and there's still light, joy, love, hope, and peace to be found in the midst of the darkness.

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

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asks :)

once again, i’m terrible at answering things :)

First off, your newest Kuroo story WRECKED ME. OMMMMMG LIKE IT'S SOOO FUCKING GOOD. You are one of the most incredible writers ever, like professional style writing. These should be books and you should get paid for it, honestly. Your skill is totally unmatched, my friend. I just adore everything you write. I had two questions thou about the story, just because I am totally obsessed by it- so has Kuroo been obsessed with her since he saw her, I'm like curious how his obsession started

like is it because she's young and he's interested? Cuz I totally got the vibes at the party that he was showing her off like she was his girlfriend and he seems like he has been wanting her for awhile. I was just curious about how it started cuz god I'm a simp for yandere kuroo- boss man Kuroo would make me weakkkkk. My second question is so is he like obsessively in love with her or is it like just a this hot piece of ass is mine to fuck kinda thing? Like does he want a relationship?

anyways, I love you and I love your writing. Everything you write is legit perfection! Thank you for all your beautiful stories you share with us! - Kai

first of all, whomst gave you the right to be so damn sweet???!?! dsgsjkl thank you, bby!

so, like with all my fics i kind of have a ‘read into it how you want’ thing going for it. whether or not kuroo actually has ‘romantic’ (i use that word loosely) feelings for the reader or whether he just enjoys fucking her because he’s in a position of power and she’s easily manipulated is left a little up to your interpretation and how you’d prefer to imagine it. however, having said that there are little hints throughout the fic that imply that there’s a little more depth to kuroo’s feelings. you’re not wrong with the whole ‘showing her off’ vibe at the party, and there’s mentions of confessions that kuroo gives while he’s fucking the reader - also the title of the fic, invidia, means envy in latin. so take that how you will 🤷‍♀️

and as far as how it all began, i like to think that it was kind of a slow build. again it’s implied that kuroo has met the reader (however briefly) a few times before - at games as nekoma’s manager, when she initially was introduced as his girlfriend and she has stayed over at their place in the past. it wasn’t so much a singular moment, but kuroo’s definitely been paying more attention to her than she realises.

WHAT WHAT WHAT???? RHI UHMMM WAS KUROO IN LOVE WITH THE READER???? 👀👀👀👀 HOLY SHIT. I'm honestly mind blown rn like I have a lot of questions like did Shin know? Was he also into it? Omg the idea of Father and Son sharing reader...

(also I def did not hope that Bokuto was also there cuz that would have be fun....oppsss)🙊

hehehe

no, shin didn’t know but oh can you imagine the betrayal if he did? if he willingly set up the reader to be fucked by his dad 👀god damn

adsfgdhjfkfl there was a moment i genuinely considered having something more happen at the christmas party where bo would stumble across and one thing would lead to another.... but i decided not to go that route. this one needed to be solo kuroo haha

Rhi, what can I say, amazing as always!

ahhh thank you sm, bby!

Hi i absolutely love the kuroo fic at first no one would actually notice he was into and then story actually rises nicely however i would like to ask like what happens later im sorry im a little burnt out from my mountains of assignments that i cant think of a possible aftermath since the story had an open ending but yeah what happens later after the whole scene does y/n stay there for the 7 days and get r*ped again or she goes home early and like what happens to kuroo and shinsuke im sorry for annoying you with questions its fully up to you whether u would like to answer or not :-)

aw, thank you! I hope your assignments and stuff are all done? And pls bby, you’re not annoying me at all 💕💕💕

Honestly again, it’s kind of left up to what you like to think would happen, but personally I think that the reader stays, because there’s no easy way to get out of that situation without raising suspicion - which means that she then has to spend the next week trying unwittingly playing cat and mouse with Kuroo who’s gonna use every damn opportunity he has to push your boundaries 👀

Duuuuude invidia fucked me up! Like fuck, lol! The build up was so spectacular! It makes me wonder two things: how did kuroo’s obsession start, and what would shin have done if he caught them (and why do I feel like he’d join in... I guess it runs in the family lol).

I loved it sooooo much and im also so creeped out lol. Can’t trust other people’s dads. Everything about it was perfect!

glad you liked it, bby!!

shin’s a good boy and he genuinely loves the reader, but i think if he did stumble across the two of them he’d just shut down and walk away. it’d be the biggest betrayal in his eyes - it wouldn’t matter if you were drunk or he was, who came onto who - the two most important people in his life going behind his back would just break him :( and i think he probably wouldn’t give either of them a chance to explain

but if we’re talking degenerate shin... 👀👉👈

imagine if invidia! reader gets pregnant and Shin thinks it’s his, but its actually his dad’s 🤭

oooh kuroo would be such a smug little shit - he’d get extra touchy feely with the reader, drop ‘casual’ hints, basically doing everything outside of straight up admitting it to him, just to see how far he can push until shin starts to doubt whether he’s actually the father - when it’s just the two of you though... i think he’d be a little softer - but equally as possessive - you’re his, and so’s the kid growing inside of you

Kuroo: son do you know what a cuck is? Shinnosuke: no? Kuroo: wOULD YOU LIKE TO FIND OUT - @south-korea-cakes

dagshjskl i snorted when i read this but you’re not wrong lmao

hi rhi! i have a question about Lion’s Den! did oikawa purposely set the reader up to witness his true nature? or was it chance that she saw him kill?

no - i think he’d rather have kept you in the dark a little longer and tried to let things develop ‘organically’ but he’s not upset that you did find out the truth - gives him an excuse to move things along and take what he wants 👀

hey rhi:) soo my boyfriend of two years just broke up with me and so far a major comfort has just been rereading your stories. something about feeling desired, ya know? anyway, thanks for making me feel a little better <3 - @theofficialhufflepuff

aw i’m sorry to hear that :( i’m glad my fics can help make you feel a lil better - sending love bby! 💕

omg i adore everything in the soulmate series hello !! would any of the soulmate pairings ever end up feeling lowkey competitive w/ the other?? like all of them seem to mutually respect the other but would there ever come a point where smth pushes them into trying to outdo ur other soulmate when it comes to ur affection?

also have i mentioned how much i love ur writing bc i love ur writing

hmmm, not so much with oikawa & iwa or ushijima and tendou because i think they have pretty rock solid relationships with each other prior to the reader coming along - if they did it would only be minor stuff

the twins on the other hand - good fucking luck with them because they’ll turn everything into a competition. the moment one twin thinks you’re favouring the other too much expect to get dragged across the room and forced to spend ‘quality time’ with the other. it’s all very petty and exhausting and there is no possible chance for you to win. but thank you sweetheart!!

tonight im thinking about The Final Girl! boys forcing you to share a bed with them for the first time. With Kuroo’s face buried in the crook of your neck, one big hand palming your breast for good measure, Bo holding onto your waist, and Kaashi’s legs tangled with yours. its suffocating, really😪😓

asdgdhjdkdl suffocating? yes. now where do i sign up?? 🥺

you are so talented in writing it's crazy!! just the way you articulate things is ugh *chef's kiss*. i hope you are doing well and not receiving hate 🥺 ily pls

ahhh thank you so much, messages like these always make me so happy! ily bby! 💕

more karasuno first years soon? 👀

who’s to say?? i don’t have any full fics planned but maybe some concepts and thirsts??

if you make a yandere msby fic i’ll literally lose it i love your writing

👀i am considering it

#ask #anon #BD answers #BD love #fic q's #tw pregnancy

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crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years ago

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Holographic Sand is a Kickass Band Name

pairing: peter maximoff/OC(graciella decuerpo) (high school AU/not canon)

summary: peter learns that a fuckton can change in the course of a week

warnings: none? bad language and peter is simp but thats it

notes **please read**: Heyyyyy how are you doing? good? that’s great. so ik this fic is a peter/oc fic, but honesty i only use her name a few times and a few defining features but like. thats it. so you can totally just imagine urself in her position. also this fic is 5,550 words exactly. that’s the most ive ever written and I am SUPER fucking proud. I think i might become one of those blogs where i write super huge monster fics that im proud of instead of just writing to fill requests.if u dont want that then just lmk and i will not do that. i dont know. maybe. also this fic is peter centric because uh it is. anyways enjoy <3

taglist: @creator-appreciator, @simonsbluee

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Monday

Peter sat across the room, his arms crossed neatly on top of his knees as he rested his chin on his forearm. He wasn’t paying attention to the lesson being taught in front of him, in fact, he wasn’t paying attention to anything at all. No, Peter was lost in his head again. Peter’s mind was a chaotic minefield of music and cheesy one-liners and random facts that he seems to just know. But this time, he wasn’t envisioning himself beating up a police officer or playing with Pink Floyd. This time, he was picturing a perfect world where nothing ever happened yet nothing was ever boring. Peter had built a utopia in his mind-- a kingdom created to his exact preferences. A blissful tower of joy and happiness and energy and satisfaction. A paradise where he stood on top of the world with Graciella DeCuerpo, the pretty girl from algebra class, standing right next to him.

Now, Peter was well aware that the pretty girl from algebra class had no idea who Peter was. The pair had never exchanged more than a few words, but somewhere within those few words, Peter managed to decide that she was his soulmate. He’d created an image of her in his head that would make God weep tears of envy, the perfect personality for the perfect person. Peter willfully ignored the fact that he was setting himself up for heartbreak as he imagined how nice it would feel to have her fingers intertwined with his.

All of Peter’s friends thought he was ridiculous, ‘you can’t love someone you don’t know,’ they’d say. Peter would only scoff and shake away their words. He absolutely can love someone he doesn’t know, it’s getting the other person to reciprocate those feelings that’s nearly impossible. However, that doesn’t stop him from fantasizing at night. That doesn’t stop him from imagining the various ways he’d confess his love to the pretty girl who doesn’t love him. Or maybe she does. Peter doesn’t know, he could never know; unless, of course, he worked up the courage to talk to her.

Scott constantly teased Peter about his one-sided infatuation, but Peter paid no mind to him. He was 100% content with his perpetual pining for someone who probably didn’t know his name. He was totally okay with the unending ache in his chest that would appear any time she walked by or met his gaze. Peter was alright with his ceaseless yearning and the eternal feeling of disappointment that overtook him every time he snapped out of one of his fantasies. He was a-okay with all of that.

So, there he was, spacing out during biology class as Professor Hargreeves struggles to teach the silver teen about photosynthesis. The Professor looked at Peter with desperate eyes, soon deciding that having his usually energetic student be quiet and still was the silver lining of the situation-- no pun intended. Professor Hargreeves droned on as Peter glanced at the clock, counting down the minutes until 7th period. Counting the seconds until he got to see the pretty girl in algebra class once again.

Tuesday

6th period was always the worst part of Peter’s day-- the dreaded english class. There were many contributing factors to Peter’s hatred for this class; the professor was a bore, the material itself was uninteresting, and Peter could never seem to sit still or retain any of the words he read in english class. Worst of all, english class seemed to go on forever, leaving Peter to impatiently wait for the bell to ring and release him to 7th period. At the end of the period every day, he was practically vibrating in his seat.

“Can anyone tell me what Juliet’s suicide is supposed to symbolize?” the Professor asked expectantly. Peter couldn’t care less about the symbolism of some chick’s suicide-- he’d much rather be studying the features of his algebra class infatuation.

She sat next to him yesterday. There were at least 5 other open seats and she sat next to him. Yes, Peter read too much into it and yes, Peter spent the entire class period trying to make himself seem naturally cool, but he didn’t care. Peter would act like the most desperate, pathetic, lovestruck loser in the world if it meant that she would like him. They didn’t talk, they didn’t exchange a single word, nevertheless, Peter was in a state of euphoria for the entire class period.

Sometimes Peter feels like a stalker. He watches her whenever he can-- he doesn’t follow her around or anything, but if she’s around, he’ll stare at her. He has her features memorized, the curve of her nose, the dark brown irises surrounding her pupils, the way that she always seems to have chipped black nail polish on. He sees the small things. He sees the way she bites her nails when he gets bored and he sees the way her leg never seems to stop bouncing. She hums the basslines to songs as opposed to the melody.

English class came to an abrupt end as the bell cut off the Professor’s teachings as well as Peter’s distant daydreaming. Peter was out of his seat within seconds, his notes and books quickly being swept up in his arms as he walked out of the room. The hallways are crowded and chaotic and busy, each individual student attempting to get to their locker then to their class on time. Peter watches as kids swing their lockers open, fatigue and weariness apparent on their faces as they disappear into their classrooms. Peter reaches his locker hastily, the few small posters of classic rocks bands adorning the inside of his locker door. A playful giddiness overcame his body as he made his way to algebra class, a small smile left on his face.

Graciella shows up across the hallway, her bright red hair catching his eye in a sea of brown and blonde and blue. His stomach flutters as they get closer and closer to each other, finally meeting outside of the classroom. Her eyes rise to meet Peter’s, and instead of pulling away, Peter keeps looking. She smiles at him before disappearing inside the classroom, and Peter felt his knees get weak. With a deep breath and a triumphant smile, he walked into the classroom.

Wednesday

Lunchtime; possibly one of the most enjoyable parts of Peter’s school day. Peter is free to kick back and stuff his face full of whatever junk the school board deems nutritious enough for highschoolers. Usually, he ate lunch under the bleachers with his friends, but in some sick twist of fate most of them were absent. So, Peter was left to eat alone in his usual spot.

The quiet was comfortable, refreshing. The gentle summer breeze would blow every few minutes and Peter would listen to the rustle of the leaves. There’s a certain tranquility to being alone; Peter can lay back and relax and just… think. No stress, no panicking, no--

“Hey, uh, Peter, right?” Peter’s eyes snap up so fast he’s afraid they would detach from his head and fall out. His breath faltered and his hands began to shake a bit-- why was he so freaked out? She was just a girl; sure, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and yeah, he was madly in love with her, but that’s besides the point.

“Uh-- uh, yeah, P-Peter. That’s, uh, that’s me,” He chuckled awkwardly, desperately trying to stay cool. Peter was an awkward person, but he’d rather die than fuck up his chances with Grace.

“You dropped this on your way out of class yesterday, I, uhm, didn’t get to return it to you until now,” She holds out a small key chain with three small keys hanging off of it-- Peter’s house keys, along with the key to his mother’s car. He quickly takes the key chain from the red-haired girl in front of him.

“Holy shit, uh, thanks! I couldn’t get into my house yesterday so I guess you saved me from another broken window,” Peter held up his hand and showcased the scattered pattern of small cuts on his palm. Grace laughed lightly before gently running her fingers over the cuts on Peter’s palm.

“Oh fuck, dude, these look pretty bad. Maybe keep a spare key hidden under your welcome mat or something,” Peter doesn’t fully process Grace’s words; he’s too preoccupied with trying not to collapse at the feeling of her fingertips on his palm.

“Hey, you okay? You look… pale,” Grace pressed the back of her hand on Peter’s forehead in an attempt to check for illness, but that just made Peter’s skin erupt in goosebumps.

“I, um, I’m fine. I’m just st-stressed about the algebra t-test on Friday, I th-think,” To be fair, Peter was stressed about the algebra test. Peter may or may not have spent the entire class staring at Grace instead of, you know, learning the material.

“Oh! Well, if you want, I can help you study. I’m also kinda worried about it, and I study better with other people,” Peter silently thanked god for what was happening to him.

“That would be fuckin’ fantastic,” Grace smiled a smile that made Peter shiver.

“Cool! Uh, I’ll give you my phone number and we’ll meet up tomorrow. One day isn’t much time to study, but it’s better than nothing.” She pulls a pen out of her backpack and rips a small piece of paper out of one of her notebooks. Peter watches as she scribbles down her phone number and hands the paper to him.

“Thanks. For everything, the keys, the studying-- everything.” Grace smiled.

“It’s no problem, Peter, really. I’ll call you later,” And just like that, she walked away. Peter was left alone under the bleachers, a wide smile plastered on his face as he read the piece of paper in his hands over and over and over again.

Thursday

30 minutes. 30 minutes until Grace Reaper DeCuerpo, the prettiest, nicest, funniest girl Peter had ever met would show up on his doorstep. She would be inside his house for god knows how long. She would sit next to Peter-- either on the coffee table in the basement or on the floor of his bedroom. Needless to say, Peter was freaking the fuck out.

The plan was simple: Grace shows up, they study, they get comfortable, and she goes home. Yet, in those four simple steps, so much could go wrong. Wanda could interrupt, his mother could lose her temper, Lorena could start crying-- worst of all, Peter could embarrass himself and drive her away.

Peter was in the middle of reorganizing his record collection for a third time when he heard a knock at the door. His blood went cold and an electric excitement ran through his veins. Peter checked his hair in the mirror one last time before running to the door. He stood silently, staring at the chrome handle hesitantly. This was his one chance. His only chance to make his perfect kingdom real-- Peter really, really, really didn't want to fuck it up. With a deep breath, he slowly opened the door.

"Hey, Peter!" Her voice was smooth and melodic and it made Peter's heart light up. He’s about to respond with something smooth and witty when a squeaky voice chirps behind him.

“Hi!! Are you the pretty girl Peter talks about?” Peter can physically feel his face turn bright red as he turns to see his six-year-old sister, Lorena, standing behind him. She’s wearing a purple princess dress that has a syrup stain on the sleeve. Grace laughs before stepping through the doorway.

“Lorena!” Peter groans in annoyance, a pleading look on his face. The young girl just giggles before scurrying away, her dress flowing behind her.

“‘The pretty girl Peter talks about’, huh?” Grace grins at Peter cheekily. Peter runs his hand through his hair before motioning to the staircase.

“God, Lorna is quite the kid. Well, uh, we can work in my room,” He sighs. “And Grace? Uh, m-maybe don’t let Lorena change your opinion of me,” She just smirks before walking past Peter.

“Too late,” She called before disappearing down the stairs. Peter could hear the faintest trace of a smile in her voice. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly followed after her.

She was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt and holding a backpack with various pins on it-- her left ear was pierced in three places and her right in five. The earrings she was wearing were black, or maybe grey; her bright red hair blocked Peter’s view of them. She was wearing rings, some odd words engraved in the metal. Peter couldn’t read them from where he was standing. She was wearing a skirt with fishnets, her hand buried in the pockets that seem to have been sewn in herself. She has callouses on both her hands, but Peter knew that already. Her appearance would put Aphrodite to shame-- suddenly, Peter was much less confident in himself than he was before. He ran his hand through his hair again before reaching the basement.

He held his breath as Grace looked around his room, her gaze lingering on the plethora of stolen signs and band posters covering the walls. She placed her backpack on the floor and walked over to Peter’s record collection, her fingers carefully flitting through the different albums. She seemed… impressed. It was then that Peter realized it had been silent for much too long.

“Y’know I can, uh, p-play some music if you want me to. You can just pick a record and, uh, I’ll... play it,” Peter winced at his words, cursing himself for being so awkward in front of the girl he’d been pining after since the beginning of the year. He felt like everything had spiraled out of control, and he watched idly as it happened. Then, Grace shot him a smile and pulled out a record.

“You have a good taste in music, Silver,” No one had ever called Peter ‘silver’ before. He liked it a bit more than he should. “Although, that’s not really a surprise. I had a feeling you were cool.”

“You think I’m cool?” Peter asked, shocked. He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly.

“Oh, totally. I see you in the hallways sometimes and you always seem so… carefree. Genuine. I don’t know, I guess it’s just… you, ya know? You’re naturally cool.” Every syllable that rolled off her tongue shot euphoria through Peter’s veins. Grace DeCuerpo, the girl Peter Maximoff had dreamed of for almost a full year, was telling him that she thought he was cool. Naturally cool.

“I know a lot of people who would disagree with you on that one,” Peter joked. There was truth behind his humor, but of course, he didn’t want to get into his insecurities now. “They think I’m a total loser, which isn’t totally wrong I guess.”

“Well those people are stupid,” She stated matter-of-factly with a smile. “Speaking of stupid, we should probably get to work.” Peter nodded before sitting beside her on the floor.

For three hours they poured over their algebra books. They quizzed each other and checked each other’s work; Peter’s proficiency in simplifying radicals aiding them both. Every now and then their hands would brush against each other, or the conversation would stray away from school and into their personal lives. Peter learned that Grace had two brothers, one of which passed away when she was younger. Peter talked about Lorena and Wanda and his miraculous abilities in the same way that she talked about her hometown and her own abilities. The conversation was smooth and natural-- Peter didn’t feel like he was being too annoying or too chatty and there was seldom an awkward pause. The pair were content in their time together, not a single moment went by where one wished the other would leave.

Eventually, Grace had to go home. Peter wished that she could stay forever, but of course, that would be considered kidnapping. He walked her to the door, although Peter didn’t feel like he was walking. He felt like he was floating.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Silver,” Grace said softly as she turned to face Peter. She looked him in the eye and he could feel his stomach flutter.

“Yeah, I guess so,” She opened the door, but before she left, she froze. She turned to look at Peter once again.

“Peter?” she said. “You’re not a loser.”

Friday

Peter could tell the second he walked through the front door of his high school that something had changed. The energy that radiated in the halls shifted from a dull buzz of boredom to a rush of anticipation. The students in the hallway looked the same as always; tired and anxious and wishing for the day to go by quickly. However, Peter wasn’t wishing for the end of the day, and he certainly wasn’t tired. He was determined and energized and absolutely terrified, because that morning Peter Maximoff made the most important decision a seventeen-year-old could. He decided that he was going to ask Grace out on a date.

Peter made the choice to keep this from his friends-- it’s not that he didn’t trust them, it’s just that Peter knew he would be teased for his infatuation. It’s happened before and it will happen again. He walked down the hallways with a brave face on, his eyes forward and his heart racing. Truthfully, the silver teenager was terrified of… well, everything. The looming image of a harsh rejection forced itself into his mind; the idea that she would laugh in his face made his heart break a tiny bit, even though it wasn’t real. Peter simply shook those images away and walked on.

The day flew by much faster than Peter was comfortable with, and for the first time ever, he was dreading algebra class. He was terrified that he would walk through the door and have everything be exactly the same-- he feared that Grace would go back to not knowing who he was, just like before. Peter was alright with never being her boyfriend, but he didn’t want to be a stranger. He didn’t think he could take being a stranger anymore.

So, there he stood, staring at the door to his algebra classroom from across the hall. He felt confident and prepared himself for the task at hand. In four long strides, he entered the classroom. Grace was sitting next to an empty desk, her eyes stuck on the small notebook full of doodles on her desk. Peter watched as her eyes raised to meet his, a wide smile forming on her face as she motioned him over.

“Hey, silver! I saved a seat for ya,” she called, and Peter felt his knees get weak. He then decided that he would wait until after class to ask her out.

“You did?”

“Of course,” She grinned. “I like you, dude, you’re my friend,” Peter’s heart fluttered as he sat down beside her. Grace shot an odd look his way before reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. “Hey, you look stressed. Don’t sweat it, silver, you’ll do fine. We studied for, like, 3 hours yesterday. You’re gonna ace it,”

To be frank, Peter had forgotten all about the test. The real reason he looked so stressed was because he happened to be sitting next to the love of his life, and the love of his life happened to be touching his arm.

“O-oh! Uh, yeah, thanks. I was just nervous because of… the test,” The bell rang and class began, the professor strictly laying down the rules that were to be followed while the test was in session. Peter could feel the lingering touch of her hand on his skin. It made his head feel fuzzy.

Peter soon came to learn that sitting next to Grace during a test was a huge mistake. He couldn’t focus on anything other than her-- it didn’t help that she kept shooting him glances from where she sat. The numbers and letters on the paper in front of him seemed to rearrange before his eyes, instead spelling out various taunts. He feels a little pathetic for how easily Grace can unravel him, but hey, he’s a teenager.

The silver-haired boy’s eyes were struggling to decipher the words on his page when a small folded square landed on his desk. It came from Grace’s direction, and a small smirk had formed on her lips as she solved equations. Hesitantly, he unfolded the paper and read the neatly written message.

Hey silver :)

Peter smiled softly. He quickly pulled a pad of post-it notes out of his backpack and scribbled down a quick reply.

I have no idea what I’m doing. I think Professor Stedman decided to write our tests in hieroglyphics this time.

He flicked the note onto her desk and quickly turned his face downward. Class would be over soon, and Peter knew he couldn’t turn in a blank test. He uses his enhanced speed to do his assessment in seconds. Sure, he was almost certain he’d barely reach a passing grade, but hey, he had bigger matters to focus on. By the time he finished, another note landed on his desk.

That bad, huh? Looks like we better study longer next time.

Peter’s heart swelled a bit. He really thought the study sessions were a one-time thing. He’s overjoyed to know he’ll get to see Grace semi-regularly, even if he never manages to ask her out.

I think I’d rather hang out with you without the looming threat of schoolwork.

That’s the closest Peter could get to asking her out. He put deep thought into every word, he examined the phrasing and checked the spelling of every word. His english teacher would be proud.

That can be arranged ;)

Peter had no idea that four words could make him feel so much. He had no idea that 17 letters could make him want to scream in the middle of a silent testing period. His hand was shaking and his careful planning was abandoned as he scribbled back a reply.

Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?

Patiently, he waited. He waited for Grace to finish writing her response and he waited for her to toss the note back over. He didn’t wait for more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. He was panicking, and he was sure she could tell. She was probably joking, right? She was probably writing an awkward clarification-- she was probably explaining that she would actually rather die than be around him for non-academic reasons. He braced himself as the yellow post-it landed on the center of his desk.

My aunt owns a drive-in a few miles from here and she gave me keys to the projector room and the gate. She managed to snag a copy of The Exorcist-- I thought you’d like to join me during my midnight escapade tomorrow night.

Peter’s heart stopped. For a moment, he thought his eyes were fooling him. Maybe this was all some sick joke. Maybe he was being set up. Maybe he’ll get in her car tomorrow and she’ll drive him into the woods and murder him. To be completely honest, Peter wouldn’t mind if she murdered him. Peter wrote his reply.

Really? You want me there? I might be a drag. You could probably find at least 20 other people who would probably be more interesting than me.

Grace frowned at his response, and suddenly Peter decided he never wanted to see her frown again. She wrote confidently, her words solid and sure.

You? A drag? Impossible. I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to be with anyone other than you, Maximoff.

This note was his undoing. He couldn’t help himself, he read it over and over and over again-- he almost forgot to respond. He wanted to hold onto it forever, he wanted it to be framed and hung on his wall. Hell, he wanted it tattooed on his arm. Peter had never been so happy while taking a test, that’s for sure. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say; he went from heartfelt responses to witty retorts. Finally, he decided to be totally and completely honest.

I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Saturday

There was seldom a time in his life where Peter Maximoff felt wholly content. Even in the most peaceful moments, there was always something bothering him, there was always something to pull him back to reality. However, sitting in the back of Grace’s dad’s convertible with the seats down and the roof pulled back, his head resting on her shoulder as they watched a cheesy horror movie, Peter was as close to nirvana as he’d ever been.

Life had always been so hard for Peter. He’s always had to fight for his seat at the table, to claw his way into a state of mind that wasn’t a hellhole. It seemed as if the world was plotted against him; he was ostracized from society and taught that he, along with his closest family and friends, were monsters. He never met his father and his mother spent so long fighting her own battles that she forgot to love her kids. Peter had to steal to stay fed, and he had to do his best to raise his little sisters to be good people. But right there, right then? That wasn’t hard. Peter didn’t have to be anyone or do anything-- he just had to exist next to someone who wanted him. That was the easiest thing Peter had ever done.

Peter wasn’t exactly sure how he got there. Of course, he knew that they had driven to the drive-in, but he wasn’t sure how he was the person next to Grace. They had spoken for one day, maybe two, and somehow he landed himself in the most perfect spot in the entire universe. Less than a week ago, she didn’t even know his name. Or, maybe she did. Maybe she was just like Peter-- maybe she had spent the past year pining for him, and finally she worked up the nerve to just talk to him. Maybe. Peter isn’t complaining either way.

“Can I ask you a kind of cheesy question?” Peter is startled by the sound of his own voice. Grace sits up and glances at him.

“Shoot,”

“Do you-- well, uh, don’t read too much into this, but, do you believe in love at first sight?” God, he sounded awkward.

“Nope,” She said bluntly. Peter wasn’t expecting that answer, but he wasn’t exactly disappointed by it. “I mean, it’s kind of a stupid idea, ya know? Like, isn’t there a million poems and sonnets and books written about how love is this weird complicated monster of a feeling? I don’t think you can really love someone just by looking at them. You can love the idea of a person, sure, or maybe the look of a person, but you can’t love that person. Because a person is so much more than ‘first sight’,” she sighs. “I don’t know, maybe I’m being a killjoy. It just seems dumb to me-- dumb and, I don’t know, exclusive,”

Peter stops to think for a moment. He steps out of his lovesick chaotic hellbrain and looks at his feelings from an outside perspective. He thinks back to the kingdom he created in his brain-- a kingdom built on a foundation of sand. Or, less than sand. Holographic sand, because the sand he built his kingdom on wasn’t real. He made a mental note that ‘Holographic Sand’ is a kickass band name, then resumed his impromptu soul-searching. She was right-- he could see that now. Scott was right, too. You really can’t love someone you don’t know, because if you don’t know them, you fill in the gaps. You fill in the gaps with what you think fits, and then the other person stops being them and starts being parts of you. Peter suddenly felt weird.

“I’m sorry if I said something wrong,” Grace interjects after a while. Peter hadn’t realized he’d been silent for so long.

“You didn’t say anything wrong. On the contrary, you, uh, you made things a little bit more… right, in my brain. You somehow managed to take a little chunk of chaos and tame it, which is scarily impressive,” he joked. “Remind me to ask you your opinion on the meaning of life and the root of true happiness,” They’re joined in a chorus of laughter and Peter realizes that his little brain kingdom didn’t hold a candle to the red convertible he was sitting in. She slings an arm around his shoulders.

“Y’know, I might not know the meaning of life, but I am pretty close to true happiness right now,” She says, softer than before. “Maybe the root of true happiness is you, Maximoff,” She chuckles. Peter smiles. He doesn’t want the ruin the moment-- god, he is desperately trying to keep himself from fucking it up, but he feels obligated to tell her about his year of pining.

“Hey, uh, can I tell you something kinda pathetic?” He cringes at the way his voice trembled on the last word.

“Go ahead, Peter,” She used his name this time. Peter thinks she knows he’s about to say something mildly serious.

“I’ve liked you since, like, the beginning of the year. You seemed so… cool. So nice. I saw you in the hallways and my stomach would get all twisted up and my head would hurt a little bit. It was like I was allergic to you, but I enjoyed it. That sounds weird. I’m sorry,” He stopped for a moment, attempting to take the buzzing mass of words in his brain and string them into a sentence. “I was too afraid to talk to you, so I, uh, asked around. I got other people’s opinions of you and then built a little version of you in my brain. I realize now that, uhm, the little brain version of you is like, way way worse than actual you,”

When you talked to me the first time, you threw me off. I wasn’t really nervous about the test-- I mean, yeah I was nervous but that’s not why I looked so pale. I just wasn’t expecting for you to talk to me, like, willingly. So I lied because I was embarrassed. And I lied again in class yesterday. Because I was embarrassed,” He stopped talking. Peter felt like he was digging himself into a hole-- he felt like he killed the sweet sugary mood.

“Why are you telling me this?” Grace asked. She didn’t sound angry. She sounded a little confused, and she sounded like she was trying to help Peter decipher his brain.

“I don’t know, I guess I just feel bad. I feel bad for, uh, for not being honest I guess. I feel bad for being a coward,” Yep, definitely killed the mood.

“Peter, you shouldn’t feel bad for being afraid, you know,” She assures. “I would’ve done the exact same thing in your position. Hell, I did do the exact same thing in your position,” That caught Peter’s attention.

“What?”

“You didn’t drop your keys in algebra. You dropped them somewhere in bio and my friend found them. She was gonna take them to the office, but I wanted an excuse to talk to you, so I said I’d return them,” Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was being pranked, he had to be. “Being awkward and weird is like a requirement in high school. Don’t sweat it, Maximoff, really. We’re all the same in that way, I think,”

Peter felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was feeling too much at that moment, he was letting the bad drown out the good. He didn’t want to remember the day in a sad light.

“I like you. A lot. Even if you are awkward and weird,” He smiles softly. Slowly, ever so slowly, he intertwined his fingers with those of the girl beside him. It was a simple display of affection, but it made Peter feel like he was floating.

“I like you too, dork,” Peter smiled widely before placing his head back on Grace’s shoulder. Peter wasn’t paying attention to the movie, in fact, he wasn’t paying attention to anything at all. No, Peter was lost in his head again-- but this time, he wasn’t standing on a false kingdom with a false version of the girl he liked. No, this time, he was thinking about the very real girl beside him. He was thinking about the perfect world they had created in the small car they were in; a perfect world where he felt so much emotion and so, so safe. They had built a utopia in the back seat- a blissful tower of awkwardness and comfort and clumsy confessions. A paradise where he sat in the back seat of a Ford Galaxie with Graciella DeCuerpo, the pretty girl from algebra class, sitting right next to him.

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x oc #peter maximoff x reader #sorta a little bit #graciella reaper decuerpo #xmen #xmen fanfiction #xmen imagine #high school AU

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randomoranges · 4 years ago

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the other day i lost the friendly wagerino and @allbeendonebefore was like hey i want 70s stuff but maybe also make it not shitty?

idk if i delivered. i had this idea after she herself made an art and showed it to me revolving around the 70s. i figured id use it. it has a point of hope at the end? maybe it’s the origin story we all needed lamao

also please enjoy the repeated pattern of ed and ét forever saving the other a seat/making room for the other.

also the running gag is how vague can i keep things about the 70s when also writing a fic about the 70s lewl

vague references to many things being made here

Empire of Ash Somewhere between 1971 and 1975

He doesn’t know why he bothers – doesn’t know why he’s here. There’s no longer a point to any of this anymore. He feels the shift – feels it in the way the others look at him – the way they don’t look at him and it makes his blood boil.

He used to run this show. Would walk in, grace the others with his presence, and they would fawn over him – trip themselves trying to be him. That or they would seethe behind their jealousy. They either wanted to be him or be with him and Étienne had always been willing to oblige. He understood their envy. Understood their want. He couldn’t really blame them. The proverbial world seemed to revolve around him and he’d reigned it with such ease and grace.

It wasn’t always peaches and cream, naturally. He’d struggled – his people had struggled – they still struggled, but – overall, he’d been the example to follow – the one people wanted to emulate. Innovating. Exciting. The place to go – the one to be. An icon. He’d loved it. Loved the attention and the praise. The ease of it.

It had only amplified when he’d been awarded the world exposition. It’d been a last minute decision, sure, but he’d thrived. He’d given them all a show they would never forget. Had put himself on the map for good. For years and decades to come, they would talk about Expo 67. This, would be a Moment never to forget. People would exchange anecdotes about what they had seen – what they had done. About how great and innovative it had been. How wonderful and spectacular. It was, after all, the type of work he loved – bettering his image and his city – thinking ahead. Planning. Putting on a show. Entertaining.

He was very good at entertaining.

He could entertain in so many different ways.

Everyone had looked at him during Expo. Everyone had wanted him then. The stroke to his ego had been enormous. Had been satisfying. So satisfying. It had never been a dull moment. One giant party that had never ended for days and weeks and months. The afterglow had lasted – had pushed him through one winter and then the next. He’d drifted on his high – on his cloud, basking in it for days after, already a fond nostalgia settling in for the long run. The rose tinted glasses and such.

And then it had skittered to a halt. Had come to an abrupt end. The proverbial rug had been pulled from under his feet without warning, leaving him with whiplash that had left a bitter taste in his mouth – that still lingered and rippled. Crept into his body and settled in; poisoned every last remaining good memory. Destroyed and shattered all his hard work.

His empire had crumbled before his very eyes, leaving him with nothing but a pile of ash. Everything he had carefully built, everything he had worked for, gone, in a blink. Because, apparently, they could no longer trust him and there was now too much instability over some political variation of ideology. Because the people in a province that never felt like it cared for him wanted more. Because people dared to want to be recognised and had – taken – action.

Years of loyal service discarded.

It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t called the shots. He was a victim. A victim of the system. Yet, he bore the lasting consequences of them all.

It was ironic, in a sense, that after years of feeling the oppression of religion, after fighting to break from it – after starting to find his true voice in this world, it was all being taken away and he was being pushed back – returning to a nobody.

However, now he has a chance – another one, to prove to them that he’s still relevant – that they’re all wrong – have been wrong to cast him aside. This will be his redeeming arc. This has to be his redemption. He has no choice. No cards left to play, his deck long ago discarded.

On a good day, he pours every ounce of energy and time into the plans for the Olympics. It’s touch and go; not as flawless and easy as Expo was. He tries to find that same magic, but it seems as though it’s one problem after the next. If it’s not some delay in construction, there’s a strike. If it’s not a strike, there’s a delay. As the calendar ticks on, his anxiety builds and his passion for the project dissipates.

And then of course, everyone is kind enough to remind him that he’s nothing but a has-been – that there’s nothing left to him. His light has shined and now dulled, time be shelved and replaced.

So he decides to stick to what he’s good at. Stick to what everyone wants. What everyone expects him to do. Put his moniker to good use. He knows how to play up his part, after all. He’s never even liked his obligatory job. Never saw the point to the meetings he’s obliged to attend. In his opinion, they run too long. He’s always found them boring, but at least, before, he was able to go and have a good time. Everyone had wanted his opinion. Everyone had wanted him. Because he was the best. He was somebody.

Was.

He is no one now.

In any event. There’s no point to it anymore. He’s found better and more lucrative ways to spend his time. Better ways to chase the thrill of before – to feel alive where there is nothing but decay and rot. He’s found a way to feel wanted, even if for a little while. He knows where to put his skills to good use and make some cash while doing it as well. It’s more than could be said about these sorry meetings.

The best part about his side hustle is that it makes his mayor mad. Makes the tiny bald man seethe and rage. But it makes Étienne grin. He loves that it enrages his mayor. Loves that he can keep finding ways to tarnish his plans of “cleaning up the city.” Étienne no longer is the wide-eyed-bushy-tailed naïve man who had blindly followed him. He’s grown since Expo. (It is a shame though; they’d mostly gotten along then – he’d enjoyed chatting up the man about his vision for the city. He misses the camaraderie, if anything. They may have not always gotten along, but – the man had vision – had helped him make a name of himself. This, however, he disagreed on.)

With Expo, he’d – broadened his repertoire, so to say. Gotten a taste for the more delightful sinful pleasures of life – the full range and experience – had really let loose. It had been thrilling, what with everything else going on from the change in fashion to the freedoms the rest of his people were finally allowing themselves to experience without the fear of God breathing down their necks. His little personal discoveries had proven to be useful now that he needed an extra escapism and a different way to earn his living. The face his mayor had made had been worth it.

Étienne wouldn’t have bothered showing his face to this meeting; would have flipped everyone off and returned to his new life, but his sister had insisted. Had reminded him that with the Olympics looming forward, he had to get his act together. Look presentable. Make an appearance. Remind everyone of what they were. It was all bullshit. He was tired of the hypocrites – the ones who’d died to have his opinion who’d now turned their backs on him. Tired of the fake airs everyone gave themselves at these meetings. The redundancy of them and the lack of anything ever getting done. He could be spending his time in so many other better ways.

But. Élyse had begged and insisted. So he’d gone.

Except now, he itches to get out of the place and get some air. The cigarettes he’s been smoking nearly nonstop since he’s gotten here have done nothing to calm his nerves and even though he knows he could go for something a little stronger to help, he also knows that with these stuck-ups they would have a conniption and keep passing their snide remarks. He tells himself he’s doing it for Élyse. She’s been through enough and – he doesn’t want to make it harder on her. Yet, he feels like he’s either vibrating out of his skin or that suddenly his body is too big, or too small for the ricochet of thoughts in his head. He needs air, a distraction, a hit of something, before he causes a scene, and luckily – miraculously – a break is called just as he’s about to bolt out.

He lights up another cigarette as he looks for somewhere to wait out the break and scowls when all the benches are taken. There are spots left, but the last thing he’s in the mood for is polite small talk. It may have been his forte once, but the idea of it now makes him want to hurl. Étienne considers taking a walk and maybe finding something better to do for the afternoon, but the sight of a familiar sulking figure draws him close.

He recognises Edward after a beat and only feels slightly relieved. Edward is his friend, sure, but they’ve sort of lost touch over the past few years. There’d been a frenzy of letter exchange after Expo and even before that, but – he can’t be bothered to remember whose turn it had been to write back. Then again, Étienne’s got a lot going on in his life at the moment and Edward feels as though he’s part of his old life.

Still, he supposes that Edward hasn’t been unkind to him even if they haven’t sat down to have a heart to heart and at the moment, it’s better than the sneering and jeering. However, the idea of sitting down with someone he knows and having an actual conversation makes him want to set the world on fire. He considers getting out of here again, but just as he’s about to turn on his heels, Edward seems to notice him as well and moves his bag over so that Étienne can sit if he so desires.

He’s ever so thankful when Edward leaves him to his moody thoughts and Étienne is able to breathe a little easier for the first time all day. It might almost seem like companionable silence, but he knows better and takes it for what it’s worth.

Étienne smokes quietly as he lets his thoughts wander for a bit. He reflects on his strange friendship with Edward and how unlikely they came to be. He’d honestly never thought that his own ennui back home would have pushed him to set off exploring the Great West only to stumble upon another lost soul who would turn to be a friend – a confidant really.

He’d – never expected Edward to take him up on it, back then – when he’d told him to keep in touch and write to him. He’d jotted down the address, given it to his friend and then had headed off, not thinking of the hassles Edward might have with finding an actual post office. Yet, eventually, when he’d nearly forgotten about it, a letter had appeared from Edward and Étienne had been more than surprised, even if he’d been delighted.

He’d taken to writing to Edward frequently – or as frequently as was possible at the time. Sometimes, he would run back to the post office to add more to his already long letter, always having more to say to his friend and over the years and decades, he and Edward had built a steady if bizarre friendship through their writing.

It’d been – easy to write to Edward. Easier than it’d ever been to say things out loud, anyways and he’d opened up about many aspects of his life he’d kept close to his heart with the years. In his opinion, Edward knew a lot more about him than Emma and even Élyse – not that he’d let them know. Yet, despite being able to write to his friend about everything that had ever bothered him, this time, he wants to keep his new secret to himself. He’s rather proud of this one anyways and he’s – not sure Edward would understand. Not entirely, anyways.

He sighs and takes another drag of his cigarette. It’s a complicated mess and he’s lost so much already – doesn’t want to chance this at the moment. In case.

It’s strange to think that even though he feels as though he’s found some sort of kinship with the new people he hangs around with, he feels even more alone than before. He’s – different from them. It comes with his status and the fact that despite his appearances, he is not like them – not really human in the full sense and there are certain hurdles he’s gone through that he cannot simply open up about to them.

His musings are brought to a halt when he hears exasperated grumbling from his side. He’s about to scoff and tell Edward to quit it, but then turns to find the other man patting his pockets looking for something. Étienne overhears the words “cigarette” and “forgot” and figures out that Edward must have left his pack inside. He watches the little tantrum unfold for a moment, taking pleasure in seeing someone else frustrated for a while, before it gets on his nerves.

He has enough to deal with as it is. He doesn’t need Edward’s complaining on top of it. With another sigh, Étienne fishes out his own pack and takes a cigarette out before he can reconsider and before Edward can get into a real fit.

He wordlessly hands it over and waits for his friend to realise that there’s an offering being made.

It takes Edward a moment and Étienne gets to the point where he’s afraid he’s going to have to jab the other man’s arm to get his attention, but before that has a chance to happen, Edward sees the cigarette and accepts it with a grumbled thanks. Étienne is about to take out his lighter, in case, but Edward already has it in his hand and lights up his cigarette without much trouble.

It’s the extent of their conversation for the time being and for that, Étienne is grateful. He’s in no mood for talking and he appreciates that Edward keeps to himself. For the first time since the start of the day, Étienne feels slightly less alone and even though they don’t do much, he appreciated the presence of Edward. It’s – familiar, in a sense, even though they haven’t spent all that much time together.

He can probably count on one or two hands the number of times they’ve legitimately hung out together – or even seen each other in the last century, but despite that, Étienne has considered Edward to be one of his closest friends for years now. Yet, somehow or other, even though the live miles apart, they’ve – clicked and bonded and somehow or other stuck around each other.

He supposes, not for the first time, that it must count for something. Maybe.

He’s not sure he wants it to, but as he finishes his own cigarette, Étienne finds himself with the same sense of ennui from before. The idea of sitting though another few hours of meetings still makes him want to hurl and the appeal of getting the hell out whispers soothingly in his ear.

He spares Edward another glance and takes in his friend’s own sour look and discontented face. He figures that maybe – just maybe, Edward might not want to be here too and might want an excuse to get out.

“Hey,” He says, finally breaking the silence between them. “Wanna get out of here? I think I saw a diner worth the detour on my way over.” It’s as good as an offers as he’s ready to make, but Edward, after a moment’s hesitation, carefully nods and stands up.

They walk towards the street and fall into step together, as Étienne thinks that maybe there’s an analogy to be made about misery loving company, but he’d rather hope that instead, maybe he and Edward have more in common than he thought they originally did.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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virgil-patton-roman-and-logan · 4 years ago

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Nightmare AU

Based off of @jessibbb‘s nightmare from a while back. It took me a long time, but I did write something for it!

“That was the last truly nice moment Logan could remember. As soon as the cameras clicked off, everything went dark.”

Content warnings: Major character death, grief, drowning, being crushed, falling, decapitation, hypothermia, pornography mention, suicidal ideation, let me know if I missed anything because this fic was a lot

Tagging people who seemed interested in a fic on the original post: @izzynuggets @whizzie72 @stopitanxiety @mr-scandalous @kawaiikat54 @phantom-moonfire @ocforeverything @pricklyfish777 @arya-skywalker @averykedavra

Logan couldn’t think of why the videos stopped being normal. The one it started with felt normal the whole way through. The sides were trying to find ways to add something fresh to Thomas’s career, and for once everyone was present. Of course, some people were more helpful than others—Remus wouldn’t shut up about making a pornography account—but things were normal, and they were good.

That was the last truly nice moment Logan could remember. As soon as the cameras clicked off, everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes, there was a glass wall in front of him, bordering a giant tank, meticulously aquascaped to look like the bottom of the ocean. Most of the other sides were next to him, rubbing their eyes and looking around. Remus was inside the tank, doggy paddling and trying to catch his bearings.

Suddenly, tentacles surged from the bottom of the tank and caught on to Remus’s ankles, dragging him down. Remus struggled, desperately trying to break away, but he just got tugged further and further down.

“No!” Roman banged on the glass, but nothing happened. Janus ran over and touched the tank, muttering “please” repeatedly under his breath as he watched Remus with wide, terrified eyes. Logan’s chest was constricted and cold. This couldn’t really be happening. Everything was so surreal. The sound of Roman pounding on the glass tore through his skull, making his head ache.

Remus bucked and clawed at the water. For a moment, he managed to pull one ankle away, but it was quickly grabbed again as he kicked at the tentacles wrapped around the other. Slowly, Remus stopped fighting, eyes becoming glassy, gasping and reaching for the surface as the tentacles dragged him to the bottom.

Roman charged the glass, ramming it with the force of his shoulder. He collapsed to the ground, crying in frustration. The glass remained unmarked. Patton slowly made his way over to Roman, wrapping his arms over the side’s shoulders and whispering softly in his ear despite the terror brimming in his own eyes.

Logan looked back at the tank. Remus had gone completely limp. The tentacles slowly released their hold, but Remus’s body sank to the bottom.

XXX

Logan woke up in bed and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god, it must have been a surreal nightmare. The worst nightmare he had ever experienced in his life, but a nightmare nonetheless.

It took him a moment to realize he was still wearing his clothes and his shoes were still on his feet. And the light was on. And the bed was perfectly made under him.

He sat up, a cold knot forming in his stomach. It hadn’t happened, he told himself as he stepped out of bed. There was no way it had. So why was he so afraid to go outside and see? And why could he hear crying?

He took a few deep breaths and stepped into the hall, leaden limbs weighing him down. Roman sat hunched and crying in front of Remus’s door. Logan’s heart dropped.

He walked over, time feeling like it was passing in slow motion.

“Was it real?”

Roman nodded without looking up. Logan exhaled shakily, sinking to the four next to him.

“He isn’t in there, is he?”

Logan barely heard himself ask it, yet he clearly heard Roman sob harder in response.

XXX

Logan sat at the table, staring into his cereal. He poked and stirred it around with his spoon, but couldn’t bring himself to eat. He just wasn’t hungry, and he was sick of trying to shovel food past the lump in his throat.

Virgil sat heavily a couple seats away, hair and makeup messy. Logan didn’t bother talking to him. Virgil didn’t seem to want to talk to anyone. He got angry when anyone tried. After a couple of silent, long, minutes, Virgil spoke first.

“Where’s Roman?”

“Remus’ room.” Logan said quietly, trying to ignore the spike of hurt that went through him at saying Remus’ name. Roman had been spending every night and most of the day there in the weeks since Remus’ death, wanting to feel close to his lost brother. Logan wanted to reach out to him, but had no idea what to say. What do you even say to someone who recently lost his second half? Besides, it was hard enough for Logan already.

Virgil nodded tiredly, sighing. He put his headphones on and laid his head on the table. Logan thought he heard him softly crying, barely audible.

Patton came downstairs, walking like he was carrying a heavy weight. When he saw Logan and Virgil, he gave them a clearly forced smile. Logan saw the tears glimmering in his eyes.

“Hey, kiddos.” Patton’s voice wavered. Logan nodded softly in return. Virgil didn’t respond at all. “How are you?”

Logan shrugged half-heartedly, putting his spoon down. “Is Janus awake?”

“I don’t know. He’s still in his room.” Patton’s smile faded. “I just wish I could help. He won’t speak to anyone. Roman avoids me most of the time too. I just want to help.” Patton took a hitched breath, tears falling down his face. He immediately tried to gather himself, wiping his tears.

Virgil stood fast enough to knock over the chair and threw his headphones on the table. “It’s not fair!”

“Kiddo—” Patton’s voice broke.

“It isn’t fair! He was fine before! We were fine…” Virgil broke into angry tears, crossing his arms around his chest.

Patton walked over, putting his arms around Virgil and rubbing his back. “Shh, shh, it’s going to be okay…”

Logan didn’t think Patton sounded like he believed what he was saying. He ran his spoon through the now-soggy cereal again, blinking away the tears that came to his eyes. What had happened? Sometimes he felt like everyone was looking to him for answers. He felt even more like that now. But he had none. He had no idea why or how this had occurred.

He just hoped it wouldn’t happen again.

XXX

The next video came far too soon. None of them were ready for it. Logan showed up in sweatpants, with messy hair and tired eyes. He couldn’t think of a time he had shown up looking more disorganized. And he wasn’t the only one. Roman had clearly just rolled out of bed, his eyes rimmed with red and bloodshot. Patton was trying to force a cheery demeanor, but Logan doubted anyone would be buying it anytime soon. Virgil seemed quieter, no longer eager to make sarcastic comments.

Logan envied Janus. He wished Thomas hadn’t called him up, either. Still, he tried to provide useful information even if his chest ached and his eyes watered. Watching Roman wasn’t doing any favors, either. The surviving twin was clearly trying to take Remus’s place by suggesting darker ideas than usual, his nose wrinkling at his own words.

Virgil sat on the bottom step, wearing his headphones and glaring at the floor. He seemed determined to participate as little as possible. Thomas shifted his weight nervously. “Virgil, what do you think?” Virgil took one side of the headphones off, scowling at everyone else. “I think we should stop pretending like everything is normal.”

“What—”

Virgil sunk out without another word. The video continued without him. When it ended, everything went dark.

XXX

Logan opened his eyes. He was behind a glass wall again. Virgil was on the other side of it, facing him and the other sides. A giant rock rested on a ledge several feet above Virgil. Logan’s heart shot into his throat. No. Not again.

Virgil’s mouth opened into a frightened “o” shape, and he turned around just as the ledge broke and the rock fell.

Patton screamed.

Blood seeped out from under the rock. Virgil’s legs were all that were left, bloody and crooked jeans barely visible, black sneakers unmoving. Logan’s breath came fast and shaky, and blood rushed in his ears. He could vaguely hear the others talking frantically, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. He felt like he was going to faint.

He woke up in his room again.

He lay where he was, not wanting to get up. Logan’s chest was hollow and sluggish. He knew it was real this time. He had lost another friend.

XXX

A couple of days later, Patton ran downstairs, agitated. “Virgil had a spider!”

Logan snapped to alertness, sitting up from where he had been staring at the ceiling for the past couple of hours. “What?”

“He had a pet spider, and I don’t want it to die too, it would have mattered to him.” Patton’s lower lip wobbled. Logan felt a pang in his chest. “But I can’t take care of it, I’m still afraid of spiders. I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’ll take it.” Logan responded without thinking about it.

“Really? Are you sure? Do you know how to take care of them?”

Logan shrugged. “No, but I can figure it out. I have the internet. It would… provide a suitable distraction.” He forced a smile.

They walked into Virgil’s room together. It was exactly how Logan had remembered it, except somewhat messier. Clothes strewn on the floor, fake spiderwebs stretched across the corners, Tim Burton posters on the walls. All reminiscent of someone who would never enter any room again. Tears blurred Logan’s vision.

“Well, here it is.” Patton said quietly. On the desk, there was a cage with a small, fuzzy tarantula inside. Logan smiled slightly at the sight of her. Maybe taking care of a creature would be good for him. It would give him something to think about besides Remus and Virgil.

“I’ll take her. Do you know what she’s called?”

Patton shook his head. “No. Verge never told me about her, either. I just found her in here today.”

Logan looked at Patton’s face, trying to read his expression. How much time had he spent in the room of a dead friend? “You miss him, don’t you?”

Patton nodded, breath hitching. “So much.”

Logan nodded sympathetically. It had been hard for everyone to lose two good friends in such a short time. “Can…” Logan cleared his throat and tried again, louder. “Can you help me get the cage into my room?”

Patton took a deep breath. “Okay.”

They carried the cage into Logan’s room together and placed it gently on his desk. Logan wished he knew what Virgil had called her. He felt bad renaming her.

But he was already starting to call her Nova in his head.

XXX

During the next video, Logan couldn’t get himself to untense. He knew something terrible was coming, like it had been for the last two videos. Yet he still tried to give his input as best as he could, all while casting worried glances at the three other sides. Janus seemed just as nervous as he was. Patton was shifting his weight back and forth. Roman just stared at the ground, despondent.

“Roman? Do you have any ideas?”

Roman shook his head slightly. Logan stared, worried. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that not participating helpfully in the discussions seemed like a common factor between the deaths. Would Roman be next?

Roman didn’t seem to notice Logan’s silent prodding. For the rest of the video, he spoke in one word sentences and kept his eyes on the ground, avoiding Logan’s frightened gaze.

XXX

Logan woke up behind a glass wall. On the other side was a grassy plain with a gargantuan tree in the middle. The tree must have towered well above 25 stories, and it kept growing larger, new branches growing off of the old ones, leaves stretching towards the sun. Logan vaguely saw a figure standing one one of the higher branches, clinging to the trunk for dear life.

He glanced to either side of him. Patton stood biting his nails, and Janus had a hand clasped over his mouth. The figure must have been Roman. He rested a palm against the glass, looking around. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t come up with anything he could do. Even if he somehow managed to break the glass, he didn’t know how to stop the tree from growing or get Roman down from the tree.

He looked up. The tree reached so high Logan could barely see the top. In another situation, he would have found it beautiful. But right now he felt like he was going to cry. One of his few remaining friends was about to die horribly and there was nothing he could do.

When Roman fell, he went faster than Logan expected. He would never forget the sickening crunch of Roman hitting the ground.

Blood pooled under the body. Roman’s neck lay at an unnatural angle, and part of his head was completely crushed. One of his eyes was still visible, wide and glazed over. Logan gagged at the sight, staring into the eye, unable to pull himself away.

Patton hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder. Logan flinched back from it, feeling a pang of guilt when Patton whimpered slightly in response. He finally looked away from the mangled corpse. Roman wasn’t coming back no matter how long he stared, and the others needed him to be there for them. Patton looked back at him, eyes filled with tears. Logan noticed that his hands were shaking.

He looked the other way. Who had he been kidding? He couldn’t be there for them. He was just as devastated and terrified as they were. Janus knelt on the floor, hand still clasped to his mouth, sobbing quietly. Logan silently knelt next to Janus. He had no words to encompass what had just happened, but he didn’t want to feel alone. Patton joined them a few seconds later. Together, they stared at the body and waited to wake up.

None of them had anything to say.

XXX

Logan sat at his desk, reading articles on Ranker and forums on Reddit. He wanted to know what their last moments felt like. Virgil’s death sounded the most pleasant. He most likely felt no pain at all, a moment of it at most. He died before his mind could have registered any of it. Roman’s death didn’t sound too bad either. He might have momentarily felt the impact, but he also might have died instantly or went unconscious mid-fall. Of course, he still must have had the terror of knowing he would never get down safely, and the gut-wrenching sensation of falling to his death.

Remus’s death, on the other hand, sounded awful. He was likely in agony when he died. It is impossible to go unconscious before instinctively taking a forced breath, the sensation of inhaling water much worse than the sensation of inhaling nothing at all. He presumably was panicking, lungs feeling like they were being filled with lava, until he gradually faded away.

A knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts. “Kiddo?” Patton’s voice was choked up. Logan felt bad ignoring it, but he didn’t want to speak to anyone. “We’ve barely seen you for days…” There was another stretch of silence. “What are you even doing in there?”

“Researching.” Logan kept his answer curt and to the point. No use worrying Patton with the topics of his research.

“I don’t want you to be alone in there.”

“I’m not.” He glanced at Nova’s cage. At least she wasn’t a side. She wasn’t about to die. But him, Patton, or Janus likely was, just like Remus and Virgil and Roman had. It was best to try to stop being attached to other people.

“You mean the spider?” Logan almost said yes, but held his tongue. He didn’t want Patton to expect him to say anything else. This was best for both of them. After a stretch of Logan not responding, Patton just kept going. “Well, we still need you. We miss you.”

Part of Logan desperately wanted to open the door, to cry on Patton’s shoulder, to relieve the intense loneliness he felt. But that wouldn’t fix things. It would only make them hurt more, later. After a minute of quiet, Logan heard Patton sniffle and walk away.

The next video started under five minutes later.

XXX

Logan almost didn’t want to participate during that video. He suspected not participating was what was causing the deaths, and if one person had to die each time, he didn’t want to go through watching someone else die again. But he felt drawn to give his opinions given how quickly and easily they popped into his head. Hopefully if he made his contributions as short and unhelpful as possible, everyone else would surpass him.

His hopes were quickly crushed when Patton couldn’t quite seem to pull himself together enough to speak clearly. He could barely get more than a couple words out before bursting into tears so intense that he couldn’t say anything else. For the whole episode, Janus stood next to him and tried to decipher what he was saying for Thomas. Logan’s heart sank watching them. Either Janus or Patton would likely be next to die because of his curt behavior with Patton. And he had no way of knowing which.

XXX

When Logan opened his eyes he was on the same side of the glass wall as Janus. On the other side, there was a beige room, empty except for a guillotine in the center. Patton spun around, eyes widening at the guillotine. “No… no!” He backed away, eyes darting around the room in abject terror.

Shadows spread from the guillotine, grabbing Patton’s arms and pulling him towards it. He screamed and sobbed, trying to tug free. The shadows held tight, slowly dragging him closer and closer to his death. Logan’s breath hitched in his throat. He didn’t want to watch this. But he was unable to turn away, forced to see every shriek, every struggle, as Patton’s end drew nearer and nearer.

This was Logan’s fault, he was sure of it.

Patton squeezed his eyes shut as he got closer, chest heaving with sobs. The shadows forced him on the guillotine, holding him in place.

He stopped wailing and opened his eyes, face numb and expressionless. He glanced around the room, eventually locking eyes with Logan and Janus.

With his last tears running down his face, he smiled.

The knife fell.

XXX

A couple moments later, Logan woke up in his bed. For a moment, he felt nothing. He sat up and blinked, looking around his room. Then the weight of it hit him and he started crying out of nowhere. Logan grabbed the pillow and hugged it to his chest, sobbing. His fault. His fault. His fault. If he’d just talked to Patton, this wouldn’t have happened.

Janus knocked on the door softly, but Logan was too overwhelmed to answer. What could he say? What could he do? The door creaked open softly. “Logan?” His voice was hollow. Logan tried to take some deep breaths to calm down enough to respond. Janus sat next to him on the bed, hunching over a little. His eyes looked tired and empty. Logan finally calmed down enough to speak.

“It’s just us now.”

Janus nodded quietly. They sat together in pained silence.

Logan looked away from Janus. “It’s my fault.”

“What?”

“Patton… came to me. Before the video. I ignored him.” Logan's throat closed up with barely contained sobs again.

Janus spoke softly. “So you think that’s why he broke down?” Logan nodded once. “Oh, Logan… it’s not your fault.”

“But I—”

“Ignored him? Yeah, I know. But you didn’t mean for this to happen. Maybe it wasn’t the nicest thing, but you couldn’t have known.” Janus’s voice hitched at the end. He wiped some dampness from the corners of his eyes, only to start crying in earnest. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“I know.”

They sat in silence together. The world still felt like hell, but it was more livable with Janus crying next to him.

XXX

Logan was at his computer early in the morning. Researching Patton’s death. No one seemed a hundred percent sure what it was like to die in a guillotine. Most people said it was painless, but other people said that there were a few moments of pain and awareness before a person died. Naturally, the darker explanations were the ones Logan was fixated on.

At least either way, Patton definitely wasn’t in pain anymore.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to not remember how Patton had screamed and cried. How he had suddenly stopped and smiled at the last minute. How—

He tried and failed to stop his mind from going to the ensuing bloody mess. Graphic memories of dead bodies flashed through his thoughts, showing no sign of stopping. Logan squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the armrests of his chair, trying desperately to ground himself.

He dimly heard Janus speaking. “Logan?” He tried to focus on the voice. “Logan, you’re here. It’s okay. Take a deep breath for me.” Logan tried, managing a shaky gasp. He tried a second time and managed to draw in a deep breath of air. That worked a little more. He took a third breath. Before long, he was grounded, albeit shaky.

Logan swiveled slightly to face Janus. “Thank you.”

Janus nodded. “No problem…I saw you were up early. I brought you this.” He gestured to the desk, where there was a mug of coffee and some toast with jam. Logan took a slice and nibbled the edge. It was his favorite flavor. He smiled a little. “Thank you,” he said again. He hoped they’d have a lot of time left together before the next video.

The world gave them a week.

XXX

Logan thought the video had gone well, with both of them making an attempt to contribute equally. So why was he behind the glass wall again? On the other side, a blizzard raged. Janus stood in shin-deep snow, eyes glinting with alarm and shivering violently. Logan locked eyes with the other side. He took a shuddering breath as Janus started to stumble over to the glass, cape wrapped as tightly around himself as he could manage. Already, purple was tinting his lips.

Janus fell against the wall, sliding to a sitting position. He put a pale hand to the glass, looking up expectantly at Logan. Logan breathed in deeply, sitting next to him on the other side of the glass.

Logan hunched over, starting to cry. He was going to be all alone. Janus watched with wide eyes, pressing his hand to the glass as firmly as he could manage. Logan raised his voice so Janus could hear. “I’m the last one.”

“You’ll be fine.” Janus’ voice wavered from the cold.

Logan glanced at him. “Don’t worry about it, I don’t want your last minutes to be wasted worrying about me.”

“We’re in this together now, Lo.” Janus laughed dryly. “Besides, of course you’re sad. I wouldn’t have wanted to be the last one either.”

“Is this better for you?” Logan’s voice lifted with a strange kind of hope.

“I think it is, possibly.”

Logan took a shaky breath. “That makes this a little easier, then.”

“Good.” Janus looked at Logan through the corner of his eye. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Do you honestly think I’ll believe—”

“You have to.” Logan turned to look at his face. His eyelashes were coated in ice, and his lips and nose were purple. “It’s the only way it will come true. I’ll see you soon enough.”

Logan nodded. He’d be next, after all. “I’ll be here with you when you go.”

XXX

Logan stayed with Janus until he stopped shivering from sheer exhaustion. Until he started shifting around in the snow, looking around in clear confusion. Until he couldn’t stay awake any longer. Until the scene ended and Logan sat up in his bed, feeling a deeper loneliness than he had ever experienced in his life.

XXX

Logan sat at his desk, watching Nova scuttle around in her cage. “It’s just us now. You’re all I have left.” His voice cracked, and he wiped a stray tear away. “Janus is gone. I...I watched him die. I watched them all die.” His words dissolved into nothingness at the end of his sentence, and he let himself have a moment to cry. He buried his head in his hands.

Dimly, he remembered group brunches with food they had all helped to cook: Patton’s heavily burned pancakes, Remus’s ketchup spaghetti, his own dry eggs... none of the food was very good. But he still enjoyed the time spent talking and laughing with friends. He missed them.

He looked back at Nova, who had now settled in a corner. “I’ll probably be gone soon too, after the next video. I should figure out something to do about you beforehand, so you don’t starve in there.” Logan rested his chin on his hand. A melancholy tiredness seeped through to his bones. The next video felt eons away. He just wanted it to be over. He just wanted to see them again, even if it was in another life.

A glimpse of white from the periphery of Logan’s vision caught his attention. A crisply folded paper was tucked under the corner of Nova’s cage. He picked it up, carefully unfolding it and smoothing it out on the table. Printed text sat in the middle of the page, bold and undeniable.

GAME OVER

you won

Logan couldn’t hold back his sobs anymore.

#nightmare au #sanders sides angst #tw death #death #death tw #character death #tw grief #tw drowning #drowning tw #drowning #tw falling #falling #tw decapitation #decapitation #hypothermia #tw hypothermia #suicidal ideation #TW suicidal ideation

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haikyuuscreaming · 5 years ago

Text

hi um so no one requested this but like i went through something basically like this and cried a whole lot about it and i dont think its even that angsty or makes sense but i just barfed it up as a vent fic so haha funny imi’s stupid and writes about her emotional exhaustion as an x reader

heres an unrequited iwaizumi x reader :D (SORRY THIS ISNT FDSKFJ this isnt really a tumblr drabbles its more of an ao3 oneshot so)

(also sorry if none of the fic makes sense or flows well,,, i just wanted to get this out)

Ever since your first day at Kitagawa Daiichi, you found yourself with a crush on Iwaizumi Hajime.

You couldn’t help it. As soon as you saw him in your school-orientation group the week before school started, you couldn’t help but feel something more than a friendly glow. You were already sitting with your orientation group, but once you saw him join the group (albeit sort of late), your stomach practically flipped with butterflies.

He even sat down next to you.

The rest of the orientation went more than fine. Your delight when Iwaizumi started conversations with you was absolutely immeasurable. Even when your group was performing normal get-to-know-you activities, your heart seemed to race every time he made eye contact with you.

“Your name’s [Surname] [Name], right?” Iwaizumi asked, tapping his pencil against his desk. The orientation paper had asked for the names of three people in your group.

“Yeah.. and you’re Iwaizumi Hajime…?” You didn’t really need to question it, but you did so anyway to be polite.

“Mhm. Uh-- sorry, how do you spell your name?” Your heart picked up its pace once you heard him attempt to spell it out. To your feeble, gleeful surprise, he spelled it right.

“Oh! Um, that’s actually how you spell it. Thanks.”

“No problem.” He smiles at you and your seventh grade self felt like beaming brighter.

His impression on you had lasted.

In fact, that first impression on you had made your school year much better somehow.

Initially, you wanted to go to Yukigaoka with your best friends, but you ended up getting into Kitagawa Daiichi. You were miserable at the prospect of going into a school without your best friends that had been with you through thick and thin, but you lit up once you saw your schedule and found you had quite a few classes with Iwaizumi.

Throughout middle school, you made new friends and became close with Iwaizumi and his friend Oikawa Tooru. They eventually became one of your primary friend groups: you and them. Your number one best friend though, you found, was a new friend you made, Hanae.

Maybe the first mistake you made was telling her that you had a crush on Iwaizumi.

Okay, well, you didn’t tell her- she found out? Forced it out of you? Either way, not a big deal, you two are basically sisters now. But you did kind of wish she would stop mentioning it so much.

“Look, [Name]-chan~” she would always laugh and point at him discreetly whenever he was in the vicinity. “It’s your future boyfriend.”

It was always the same, every time.

“Would you shut up,” you complain, smacking her shoulder lightly which earned a laugh from her. “He could be listening!”

“Just telling the truth~” Hanae would always flash a smile back.

Things changed, though.

On a hang-out with Iwaizumi and Oikawa, you noticed their glances at each other-- Iwaizumi's being weary, while Oikawa’s was cheeky and sly.

“Hey, what are you two smiling about now?” you laugh lightly. The varied stares they gave you made you quiet down. “No, seriously, are you keeping secrets?”

“Of course not,” Oikawa chimes in. “Iwa-chan has big news though!”

Your heart rate spikes a little bit and you feel sweat beading on the back of your neck. And you're blushing too. Under Iwaizumi's warm, sharp gaze, you feel like melting under his radiance. “Eh? Haji, spit it out!!” Your anxiety falsely passes off as intrigue and excitement.

Flushing a little bit, Iwaizumi scratches his neck and smiles at you, “I wanted you to be the second to know, I have a girlfriend.”

…

You're shell-shocked.

If Oikawa picks up on it, he doesn't say so. “Seeee, [Name]-chan, I know we didn't believe it, but Iwa-chan finally snatched himself a girl!” Iwaizumi responds with a swift punch to the gut.

“I….” you can't find the words. You force yourself to smile like it's the only thing you can do. “Haji, that’s amazing!! Who is it? I didn't even know you had a crush…” Your voice falters but you push your words out as if your life depended on it. How did you manage to sound so genuinely happy when it felt like your entire world was about to crash?

Iwaizumi flushes again and you feel jealousy seep in. You so wish it was you that he blushes for. “Haha, yeah. Oikawa didn't know either for once; I didn't tell anyone, you know? Wasn't really sure yet. But it’s Aika-chan.” The way his face lights up burns a hole in your heart.

He even uses -chan for her. How special. The bitter envy feels like acid rising in your throat, and you feel queasy. Like you could keel over, cry, and puke out your guts.

“Ohhh, Aika-san is cute,” you make yourself say.

(Honestly, you're so good at lying and saying this wrong but right bullshit, you’d think you're a sociopathic robot or something.)

“Mmm… don't get jealous though, [Name]-chan, you're cuter!” Oikawa hums and you laugh loudly, hoping that you'll fake it till you make it. “Tell her how it happened, Iwa-chan. It was hilaaarious.”

The poison in you burns harsher but you nod along.

“Don't tell me what to do, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi bites almost playfully, before meeting your blank gaze with his kind, gently blazing eyes that always made you weak. Right now, you were not weak in the good way. “Aika-chan confessed to me yesterday near the sakura tree after we had class together… and I don't know, I guess it really clued me in that the feelings I had were real.”

(Iwaizumi looks so happy and content that it makes you want to be happy too, but you honestly feel like doing nothing but crying.)

“Aww, that's so sweet~” Your voice gets softer and you hate yourself so much for sounding weak.

But before either boy can reply, the panic and agony sets in. You feel your eyes glass up and your body tense, and your mind is begging you not to break down.

Unfortunately, they both notice.

“[Name]-chan? Are you okay?? You look kinda sick~” Oikawa sounds cheery and playful but his eyes convey an undercurrent of worry.

And bless Iwaizumi’s stupidly handsome oblivion, he blinks at your worriedly and puts a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “Do you need to go to the nurse? School’s still open I think, and it's right around the corner-”

Fuck him and his mind-meltingly handsome everything. Just his voice and his sharp gaze makes you want to cry harder and collapse to him.

“I-I have to go, sorry guys,” You fucking despise how cracked your voice is becoming as your facade slips. “I promised Hanae that I'd go get bubble tea with her. See you Monday.”

Eyes stinging, you turn as quick as you can and ignore their confused voices.

(The tears flow like acid and you feel like dissolving from the inside out.)

Months pass and you deny your horrifyingly strong yet compressed feelings.

You greet Aika and Iwaizumi in the hallways, and you know that you're happy because Iwaizumi is, and that's honestly all you could ask for your long-time crush (turned bitter love). You even talk to Aika freely during shared classes, just to disguise your depressing jealousy.

Every time you see them share a discreet kiss or grip each other's hands, you genuinely wish you were dying. It sure feels like you are.

(Like you're drowning, like your lungs are burning up and you're begging for oxygen, begging to breathe in Iwaizumi's love that's reserved for someone else. It hurts a lot but he's happy.)

(So you have to be happy.)

Hanae spares you sympathetic looks. “Come on, wifey-chan, you're married to meee. Get over him, he doesn't deserve you if he chose Aika the troll over you.”

“That's mean,” you sigh and crumble onto Hanae. “Aika-san’s nice. And pretty. And talented. It's no wonder Haji would choose her.”

“Stopppp! You’re so much more than Troll-chan, okay?!?” Hanae’s pep talk is brash, but you appreciate the charm. “If Iwaizumi-kun doesn’t see that, I’ll punch him.”

You laugh lightly at the fact that Hanae had talked to Iwaizumi enough to be calling him kun, but your voice is still heavy despite the sentiment. “You're so weird. But that's why I love you.”

“Of course you do~”

On another innocent hang-out with Iwaizumi and Oikawa, you’re met with abrupt news.

“Aika and I broke up.” Iwaizumi mutters softly.

“Eeeeh?!” You’re shell-shocked again, but you'd be lying if you said you were crushed like last time. “But-- but you guys were doing so well! You were the cutest couple!”

“She broke up with him over text,” Oikawa chimes in and you gape as Iwaizumi punches him again. “Two days ago.”

“She what-”

“She said she wasn't ready for a relationship,” is all Iwaizumi says.

You feel heartbreak and burning pity boil inside of you. “I-I’m so sorry, Haji… you didn't deserve that. You'll find someone better.”

Me. It's me, I promise I won't break your heart the way she did, because you're all I ever wanted.

He nods and for the first time in a while, he hugs you tight. “Yeah..”

It breaks you because it feels so good, his embrace warming you.

But it breaks you more to hear him whisper, “I can’t get over her though.”

(You just wanted him to be happy but he can’t. You can’t fix it.)

“You will,” you breathe out, trying not to let the tears slip. “You’re gonna be okay.”

(You know you’re not.)

But you don’t say that when you feel Iwaizumi’s shaky breath and him muttering, “Thanks.”

“Oh my god, [Name], did you hear about Hajime-kun?” Hanae’s alarmed voice three days later makes you concerned.

First of all, Hajime-kun-- “W-What? What happened now??” Nonetheless, panic still seeps into you.

“Aika broke up with him!!” Hanae seems so worked up over this and you wonder, how close is she to him? “Can you believe it?? She really threw away one of the best people in school!”

Shouldn’t I be saying that…? “Yeah, I know…” you try not to sound too bitter. “But like, it’s not really her fault she wasn’t ready for a relationship..”

Hanae huffs and crosses her arms, leaning onto you. “Well, I mean you’re right, but she shouldn’t have signed herself up for it if this was gonna happen. I feel so bad for him.” You’re about to layer on your argument, but Hanae straightens up and smirks. “See, your man’s single. Shoot your shot!”

“Right after a break-up?? Hanae, you’re batshit crazy-”

“Uh, well, make him like you, then shoot your shot!”

Your head and heart kind of hurts from all this talk about Iwaizumi, no matter how smitten you are for him, so you just blindly nod and agree.

It works for the rest of the day until you get home and cry into your pillow, wondering what to do.

Hope is re-kindled into you.

Over the past two-ish months, post-breakup, you find that comforting Iwaizumi makes you feel much better than wallowing in your self-pity. It’s a win-win: you’re putting even more of his trust into you, you two are getting even closer, and this could quite possibly end up in a great situation.

You melt at the sight of Iwaizumi, and every day you can see happiness soak back into him. Every time he laughs at one of your stupid jokes or grins at you while you rant and complain, you feel like your heart stops out of complete adoration of how stunning he is in every way you can think of.

He isn't perfect, but you think he's the perfect match for you.

And one day, at a study “date” (you try very hard not to take that term to heart!!) at a café, Iwaizumi peers up from laptop and gives you his signature, gruff yet content smile and says, “You know, I don't think I need Aika anymore.”

(You want to kiss him.)

It’s honestly been a shitty time for you and your friends, you realize.

Hanae broke up with her boyfriend, as you would have figured over the past few weeks she’s been ranting to you about how annoying and clingy and overprotective he is, but you found that she broke up with him over text. Oikawa went through three girlfriends in a month, to which he pouted and whined about but you knew he was secretly relieved that he didn’t have to carry more burden. And there’s the whole heartache Iwaizumi thing, even though things have been getting relatively better.

(You also realize amongst all your friends, you’re the only one who’s stayed very, very very single. You hope that’ll change soon.)

Things are going absolutely amazing with Iwaizumi. Even Oikawa’s been smirking at you and teasing you about your “true love” (to which you frustratedly deny but you honestly know that it’s just the truth when you consider your feelings for him). The two of you have felt confident enough to spend time with each other at your respective homes without feeling awkward or the need to have Oikawa there to provide a third wheel. You couldn’t wish for anything more.

So now you’re at a family-friend’s party, lounging on the couch away from the scene, on your phone. It’s so loud, but you’re content and refreshed on all the snacks you’ve practically been inhaling. Your phone pings in your hand and you glance up at the notification you’ve just received.

Oh, a text~

It’s from Hanae.

poopy hanae >:)): [name] are you busyyy

YOU: no not really

YOU: just at a party

poopy hanae >:)): OH okay so um can i tell you something but

poopy hanae >:)): i dont want you to get mad or sad ...so please let me just finish my texts

YOU: ?? yea go ahead , ill wait for you to finish :)

You feel kind of nervous once she puts it like that, but you let her continue.

poopy hanae >:)): remember how after my break up i promised i wouldn’t fall for anyone else, not for a while yk? i promised that to me and him: i wouldn’t let my heart get broken or whatever. but i found out that i don’t think i’ve ever really fallen for my ex. i think i just dated him because i felt bad and felt like i had to date him because i didn’t wanna reject him… but it happened still. but i think i’m in love now. honestly.

poopy hanae >:)): i’ve never felt this way around any guy before, not my ex, not anyone. everytime i see him my heart goes crazy, and i want to talk to him all the time. he’s just so perfect in every way. he’s so smart, he’s handsome as hell, he’s strong and caring… and i promised both of you i wouldn’t fall for anyone else but i broke that promise to him, you, and me. and i think you’ve figured out who he is now.

poopy hanae >:((: i’m sorry i can’t help it. i didn’t want to tell you because that would make our friendship weird but i hope now we’re at the stage where we will still be best friends regardless of him. i’m truly in love with iwaizumi hajime and i’m gonna confess to him on monday (tmr). i love him so much but i want you to know i love you more so he won’t ever get in the way of us. ily <3

The more you read the message, the more it makes you want to cry. Your hand starts trembling around your milk tea and you feel your face warm up, your eyes glassing over and your vision blurring. Stumbling your way into the bathroom, you lock yourself inside, staring at yourself in the mirror. You watch your delicate, shaking features in the mirror as the first bitter tear rolls down your cheek. More tears follow.

Sobs wrack your body and hot tears glide down your face, constantly, like a river. Whimpers escape you, and your lips are cracked and dry, and you keep thinking, Why would she do this to me?

YOU: ahaha it’s okay!!!

YOU: a boy shouldn’t get between us, ly :) make him happy

YOU: you desrvee him mroe than anbyody else

You cover your mouth with your shaking fingers in hopes that the others can’t hear you outside over the music.

You pretend it’s fine the next day at school.

Hanae doesn’t even mention it, but she hugs you a lot more and keeps whispering, “I love you”. The bitterness has sunken in a little bit and you resist the urge to tell her, It doesn’t change the fact that you broke me, but you figure that it’ll be okay.

You’ll just lose your feelings for Iwaizumi so she doesn’t have “competition”.

(It turns out to be harder than you think.)

When you see Iwaizumi at lunch, his smile never fails to make you flush a little bit and make you feel so warm and comfy. When he sits down next to you (!! ahhh!) since Hanae was in line for lunch, he makes a sigh-grunt noise as he nestles his chin into the crook of his palm. Oikawa, bless his dumb ass, sidles down next to you, making a dramatic sigh.

“Did you know Hanae-chan confessed to Iwa-chan today?”

You try so, so SO hard not to tense. “Yeah. She told me a few days ago that she- she was in love with him.”

(The way your voice cracks at “in love” is pathetic, you think.)

You don’t miss the way Oikawa’s face briefly flashes a frown at you before morphing back into his signature pretty-boy smile. Iwaizumi looks a little embarrassed to be talking about this but he nods. “Yeah, she pulled me aside right before lunch and… yeah. It was so embarrassing…” You’re in fucking awe of how cute he is even when he’s distressed, but you remind yourself (with a pang of bitterness) that you aren’t supposed to think that anymore.

“And I turned her down,” Iwaizumi continues, and your ears almost fucking pop at the noise. He- how, what? Why? “‘Cause I don’t know, I never really felt that way about her. I guess that’s why she’s been talking to me more and more lately. She said she understood if I wasn’t ready to move on ‘cause of Aika and stuff, but.. she said something like she’ll change my mind.” He snorts and murmurs, “I don’t think that’ll happen, honestly.”

Oikawa laughs, a peppery laugh accompanied with a side-eyed glance towards you. “Iwa-chan, you’re such a brute~ You sure that’s the only reason you turned her down?”

Iwaizumi lets out a snort again. “Yeah.. I’m over Aika now, but I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship. Plus, there isn’t anyone that I like like now. Hanae doesn’t stand out.”

The statement makes you crumble on the inside.

You idiot of a best friend. What good are you if you don’t stand up for Hanae?

But it doesn’t matter! He said he has no interest in anyone, including you. Or her. It’s pointless, futile. He never even considered you.

You’re so stupid, so worthless sometimes. You’re the worst. It doesn’t matter if you would go to the end of the world for Hajime. You have to give this up for her. Fight for her because he would never settle for someone like you.

You fight back the sob crawling in your throat, as your self-loathe and intrusive thoughts rain in. You try so hard not to let it get to you, but still-

It’s what Hanae deserves for putting up with you.

“You should give her a chance,” you force a small smile. “I mean, she’s pretty and smart, you know?”

Oikawa gives you a pitying gaze before Iwaizumi shakes his head, his cheek now pressing against his palm. “Nah. I don’t like anyone in that way now, and it’s gonna stay like that for a while, I’d think.”

He doesn’t like anyone in that way.

You shrug and nod, “Fair enough,” but your voice is so much smaller. You love Iwaizumi Hajime so much, and he’s always been your everything. From his habits to his comforting demeanor and his entire profile, he’s always infatuated you and you know that no matter how hard you deny it for anyone, you will never let go of the feelings that shackle you to him like chains.

You love him so much.

But I guess I’ll never win.

#iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #sorry this sucks #this is a mess

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heauxplesslydevoted · 5 years ago

Text

When The Shark Stops

Summary: Liam and Kendall have a long overdue talk. Follow up to my Liam x MC fic, posted here. I didn’t intend for this to become a multi-part thing, but I think I’ll make it a trilogy.

Tags: @senseofduties @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @badchoicesposts @drakewalker04 @canknot @sirbeepsalot @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @eadanga @the-unconquered-queen @flyawayboo @aestheticartwriting @ao719 @zaffrenotes

~v~

A full night of sleep is something that Liam typically considers a luxury. He’s a king, responsible for the lives of tons of people, he has work to do. “Sleep is for the weak and the dead,” Constantine used to say. Crawling into bed late and waking up early is the routine he’s grown accustomed to.

But right now, he can’t sleep. His queen is tucked in beside him, snoring softly and their newborn is comfortably nestled in their bassinet right next to their bed, and he’s staring at the ceiling, unable to move.

He feels disjointed, in a way. He knows he should be happy right now, ecstatic even. He has a beautiful baby girl, and she’s healthy and Kendall is as well, but he can’t shake the melancholy. The overwhelming sense of dread crawls up and down his spine, makes a playground out of his mind, and disrupts any sort of peace.

It’s been like this for the past 4 days, ever since Eleanor was born, ever since he found out what Godfrey did to his mother, ever since he agreed to an alliance with Auvernal. If he’s not helping Kendall with their daughter, he’s in his study trying to formulate a plan. The other part of his time is spent like this, trying but failing to sleep. Now that he’s not actively doing something, his thoughts have ample opportunity to run rampant.

Your parents were murdered, one of you advisors has fled, Kendall is upset with you, and you’re one false move away from starting a war with Auvernal.

His breathing is hard and labored, his heart is beating 130 times per minute, and he can actually feel his pulse painfully throbbing at the base of his skull.

He turns and looks at Kendall. He envies the fact that she’s sleeping peacefully even though their daughter will be waking her up in the next hour or so. Her entire body is relaxed, and her hair is out of the way, fashioned in a bun so he can look at her gorgeous face. He gently runs a thumb along her cheek, careful not to wake her. She sighs in content, but thankfully she doesn’t stir.

She almost died because of you, you know, a thought flits into his mind. Multiple times. Assasination attempts, kidnappings, hell, she almost died bringing your child into the world.

Liam shoots out of bed, jumping away from Kendall. The adrenaline of the action makes his head pound harder and he doubles over in pain, wincing. He stumbles out of their bedroom on wobbly feet until he reaches their kitchen. His entire body trembles and he can’t pinpoint the cause.

“Pull it together,” He hisses sharply to himself. He rummages through one of their cabinets to retrieve a glass, hoping some cold water can calm him down. “You’re the king, for Christ’s sake!”

But he can’t. Now that he’s up, he’s opened the floodgates, the thoughts coming faster, each one more pervasive than the last.

You’re a horrible King, why do you think you can psych yourself up with a sudden reminder of your station? What was everything thinking when they told you that you deserved this job? That you would make a better ruler than your brother?

What type of King lets innocent people suffer through multiple assassination attempts? Why haven’t you learned your lesson yet?

You couldn’t even stop an old man—the man that murdered your mother—from leaving your own home! He was able to get the jump on you, and leave you trapped for good measure.

No wonder Bradshaw and Isabella were able to manipulate you so easily. Look at you. You’re weak-willed and pathetic. No wonder Kendall is so upset with you. She deserves a better husband, one who can actually protect her, and Eleanor definitely deserves a better father. Not even a week old, and you’ve already doomed her.

“SHUT UP!” Liam yells, to no one in particular. The glass he’s holding shatters, his grip on it entirely too tight. Tears prick the corners of his eyes and he laughs humorlessly. Why is this the straw that breaks the camel’s back? “Dammit!”

He hears shuffling and a few moments later, the light to the kitchen turns on. He sees Kendall out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s going on?” She asks. “I thought I heard yelling.”

“It’s nothing, I promise.”

She sees the shards of glass littering their floor. “Did you drop that?”

“Yeah, I got up to get some water and I’m just a bit clumsy right now.”

Kendall doesn’t believe him. Something doesn’t feel right.

“I can help you clean it up.”

“Nonsense. I made this mess,” his voice cracks slightly betraying his facade, “I’ll clean it up. I always do.”

“Liam, what’s wrong?” Kendall asks.

“Nothing is wrong.”

“We’ve been married for almost a year. I know all of your tells. I know you like the back of my hand, and I can tell when something is wrong.” She takes a step towards him. “So I’m going to ask you one more time, what’s wrong?”

He clenches his fists together tightly, willing himself to calm down. But it’s no use as the tears start streaming down his face. “I’m a failure.”

“What?”

“I’m a failure,” Liam repeats. “I can’t protect you, I can’t protect our daughter, I can’t protect this kingdom. I can’t even properly avenge my mother’s death.”

“You’re not a failure,” Kendall argues.

“Look at my track record, Kendall! It’s been one horrible mark on my reign after another ever since I took the crown. Drake got shot, Kiara got stabbed, my father was killed, Applewood is barely starting to recover from the fire. I couldn’t even keep you safe on our wedding day, you had to encounter not one, but two assassination attempts. I blindly trusted Godfrey to handle our security, not even knowing he was the reason I grew up with my mother and a younger sibling, and look where that got us. Now for my latest fuck up, I entered us into an alliance with Auvernal, and you hate me for it. Every bad thing that’s happened to us is a result of my poor leadership.”

Liam slides down to the floor and drives a thumb into one of his temples, hoping to rid some of the tension. Kendall gets down on the floor with him, wincing as she does so. Liam stares at her oddly. “What are you doing?”

“You got on the floor, so I’m getting on the floor.”

“Kendall, you need to rest.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kendall says stubbornly. She grabs Liam’s face and forces him to look at her. “I made a vow to you, in that fancy cathedral, in front of our friends, families, and God and I promised that I was going to be your best friend, your fiercest protector, and your soft spot to land.”

“You don’t need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all by yourself,” she continues. “I am right here with you. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” he answers.

“But do you believe me when I say it? There is nothing too heavy or too intense for me to tackle, not when I’m right here, right by your side. I’m not going anywhere, Liam. You aren’t alone.”

Kendall’s wipes away one of his tears. “What brought this on?”

Liam shrugs. “I don’t know. I think everything that happened the other night has really been weighing on me, coupled with everything that’s happened in the past year and a half. I can’t even get through writing our daughter’s birth announcement without spiraling into a panic.”

“I feel the exact same way. That 7 pound infant came here, and she’s made everything feel so much more...real. I can’t even get a glass of water without my mind instantly going to her.”

He nods. “I’m gad you understand. Her birth has brought up a lot of previously buried...stuff.”

“You’ve been through a lot, Liam. You aren’t Superman, traumatic things are going to weigh you down. And despite the privilege, you’ve been dealt a hand that most people couldn’t even fathom. Every person who doubts you or judges you couldn’t walk half a mile in your shoes. And in my biased opinion, I still think you’re doing an excellent job.” Liam manages to smile at that. “You aren’t a failure. You are strong, and brave, and loyal. You have compassion, you have integrity, you care about everyone, and while some people think those are weaknesses, I say they’re your biggest strengths.”

Liam leans forward, resting his head on top of his wife’s. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You know you can always come to me if you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

“Sorry. I’m used to dealing with things alone. It’s still an adjustment, having you at my side.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Kendall asks. “Go over speeches with you, write something, call someone?”

“No. No, you’ve done enough for now.”

“Now, can we go to bed?”

“Yes, my queen.” Liam stands up, helping Kendall as well. “But first, I need to sweep up this glass.”

“Leave it,” Kendall orders. “We can get it in the morning.”

~V~

When Liam wakes up later, their bedroom is dark. The heavy curtains leading draped over the windows are drawn, blocking out any light. He rolls over and notices the time on the small clock on his nightstand. He jumps up. It’s almost 1PM! That can’t possibly be correct. He’s never slept this late.

Kendall and Eleanor aren’t in the room with him, but he hears noise coming from their living room.

After taking a second to gather his bearings, he gets out of bed and leaves the room. But instead of seeing his wife, he sees Regina and Leo. She’s holding Eleanor in her arms, gently cooing at the baby and Leo is in the adjacent kitchen making himself a sandwich.

“Regina! Leo! This is a pleasant surprise.”

Regina smiles at Liam. “Hello, Liam.”

“What’s up, little bro?

“Sorry, I’m still in my pajamas. I didn’t expect to sleep so late.”

“Kendall said you needed some rest,” Regina explains. “She turned off your alarm and let you sleep in.”

“Speaking of my wife, have you seen her?”

“She’s in her study, getting some work done.”

“Work?” Cordonia has a pretty decent maternity leave, which extends even to nobles and royalty. No one expected Kendall to return to work until Eleanor was 4 months old.

“Yes, she said she wanted to meet with Olivia and discuss some things. I took it as the perfect opportunity to hang out with the newest member of our family. And the cutest.”

Liam walks over to the couch, where Regina and Eleanor are sitting. He smiles down at his daughter, who’s silently looking at her surroundings. “Hello, my gorgeous girl. I hope you’ve been good for grandma Regina.”

“She’s been an absolute doll.”

“Yeah, you made a pretty perfect baby,” Leo adds. “She clearly takes after her mother.”

“I know that’s meant to be a dig, but I actually agree with you. She looks more and more like Kendall every single day.”

After catching up with Leo and Regina for a few more minutes, Liam returns to his bedroom to take a quick shower and changes into actual clothes for the day. He steps out of their personal quarters and heads downstairs to Kendall’s personal office.

He finds her and Olivia at her desk, papers, a laptop, and coffee cups spread around them. “Kendall, Olivia, What are you two doing?”

“It’s about time you woke up,” Olivia quips with a smirk.

“Leave him alone, Olivia,” Kendall chides. “He wakes up before the sun rises every single morning. He deserves a break.”

Liam kisses the top of Kendall’s head. “Thank you. So, when I was walking down the hall to get here, I didn’t see Mara stationed at your door.”

“Because I fired her.”

“You did what?”

“Liam, let’s not pretend for one second that she deserved to be security for the Queen of Cordonia,” Olivia says.

“She has a new station, at the American Embassy in the capital. I told Bastien that I need a new guard, someone who makes sure I don’t get kidnapped. Or shot at. And can keep paparazzi at bay. And actually oversees security at the palace so a random noble doesn’t have a kill switch.”

When Kendall runs down all the transgressions they’ve dealt with in the past year, he can’t really blame her. “Very well. What else are you working on?”

“I sent a few guards to Krona, in case Godfrey shows up. Madeleine and Adelaide are still at their home in Fydelia, and are cooperating with law enforcement and the King’s guards...for now at least. I don’t trust them. I’ve also called Betty…”

“Betty?”

“Queen Elizabeth,” Kendall clarifies. “I informed her and the Prince of Wales that Godfrey might try to flee to Karlington, and if he does, they have to tell us right away. They can’t afford to protect him and piss off a powerful ally, with all the drama their monarchy is facing, so they promised to comply. And all major European airports know to detain him immediately.”

“You’ve done all of this in the…” he checks his watch, “7 hours that I was asleep?”

“Yes. After you went to sleep, I breastfed Eleanor and got to work. I know you said you didn’t need me to do anything, but this is my home and this is my family, so I had to do something. You know sitting idly by isn’t my strong suit.”

“Well, it seems like the two of you have got a lot accomplished.”

“Oh this was all Kendall’s doing,” Olivia says. “But I did help her with phase 2.”

Liam narrows his eyes at the redhead. “What’s phase 2?”

“Olivia told me that you had her spying on Auvernal,” Kendall explains. The color drains from Liam’s face and he opens his mouth to explain, but she holds up a hand to silence him. “Save it, I don’t mind, and I don’t need an explanation. But she did reveal some interesting information about their King and Queen.”

“Like what?”

“Well darling, you’ll find out soon enough.” Kendall takes a sip of her coffee. “Because I invited them over next week so we can have a nice chat.”

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #the royal heir #the royal romance #king liam #king liam x mc #pixelberry

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