#his dad is long dead and his mama is pretty sick and stays in a living area in the basement

[silastheanon]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AXIS!!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!! IM SO HAPPY I GET TO BE YOUR FRIEND @professionallydeadinside

HERES YOUR BIRTHDAY GIFT!!!!

Three children, once loved and meant to live, cursed to die by something cursed in his own existence.

The eldest, named Evelyn, tormented in pain. The twins, Alexander and Alexandra, one dead and one cursed.

Three children, now one.

____________________

I’ve been in my room for a long time, now. I’ve read almost all my books, and there isn’t much to write about. I can see birds from my window, though.

They sing pretty. I like the sounds they make. There’s an owl that comes by too, sometimes. I looked in my books, and one of them describes owl breeds! I got super lucky with that. I think it’s a saw-whet owl! They usually don’t come this far East. It’s very pretty, and its hoot sounds like a saw.

That’s why it’s called a saw-whet owl. I think that’s really cool.

____________________

I miss my brother and sister. I miss my mom and dad.

I’m sick of this fever.

____________________

What does a jackfruit taste like? I just read about it, I’ve started reading cookbooks now that I don’t have much else to do, and I wonder what it tastes like? Does it taste like a ‘jack’? What does a jack taste like?

Or, was it discovered by someone named Jack? Is Jack proud to have a fruit named after him.

I’d be proud if there was a fruit named after me. Something like Alexandrafruit. Yeah, that’d be cool.

First, I just have to get out of this room.

____________________

Do dogs talk to each other? Do they talk to cats? I want a dog. Or a cat. Or a rat.

Or a friend.

____________________

I wonder how Evelyn and Alexander are doing. I hope they’re happy.

I bet they’re running through fields and dancing and laughing. I bet they go out every night onto the roof and see the stars. Maybe they’ve tasted a jackfruit! They swim in rivers, too! They get sunburns and play in the snow. They’ve been hit by snowballs and have fallen down and have played sports.

I’m glad. They’re happy, so I’m happy!

____________________

I’ve decided to name the saw-whet owl. I can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl, so I’m going to call it Briar, like the plant. I wish I could leave food out for it.

Maybe I’ll ask the servants to bring me some extra.

____________________

There’s something at the foot of my bed.

It doesn’t move, doesn’t do much, it just stands there. I can’t tell if he’s real.

____________________

Owls have meaning. They mean insight, wisdom, and something else, but the book is too faded there for me to read. I hope it’s happiness.

____________________

Do other kids hurt? Does their skin feel like sandpaper? Do their throats never stop aching? Are they ever comfortable, not fighting between freezing and burning? Can they rest easy?

Do they suffer, too?

____________________

The servants won’t bring me any extra food. They say I shouldn’t waste it on owls, that there isn’t enough to waste.

Yet, I see more and more soldiers out in the square every day.

____________________

The thing at the foot of the bed. He’s back, but not at the bed.

He’s in the closet, now. I can see his eyes. They glow green.

He doesn’t talk. He just watches me. He doesn’t move. He just watches.

That’s all he does.

Watches.

____________________

I can’t remember Mama’s voice.

____________________

What did Alexander look like?

____________________

Who is Evelyn?

____________________

Does the sun get lonely? It’s up in the sky all day, and there isn’t anything else up there. The moon has the stars, so it isn’t lonely, but does the sun get sad and lonely?

I guess it has the clouds, though. Maybe when they cover the sun, they’re actually hugging the sun.

That makes me happy. I’m glad the sun has friends.

____________________

He doesn’t stay in one spot, when he comes to me.

Sometimes, he’s back at the foot of the bed. Sometimes, he’s in the closet, and all I can see are his eyes, watching me. Other times, he’s in the corner of the room.

Some nights, he leans over me. I don’t think he breathes.

____________________

Briar’s visiting me more often, now. I don’t know why, but I’m happy.

I wish others would visit me, too.

____________________

I’m hot, I’m burning, I am aflame. I am nothing but pain, little but the rash that consumes me, barely more than an aching throat and rough skin and burning, burning, burning heat.

He is above me, simply watching me scream.

____________________

Briar has begun pecking at the window. There are other birds with it, too. Black birds, big and mighty, and I can just see roosters below on the square, but they only ever call at night. Maybe they call for the rats and bats that come out at night. They need woken up, too.

There was even a sparrow.

____________________

He’s started talking to me.

I can’t understand him, but I can hear him. He whispers.

He whispers.

____________________

My bed is uncomfortable. My feet hurt. My back aches.

I want to run. I want to jump.

I want to die.

____________________

He whispers. He stands closer to me, now.

Some nights, he reaches out. He’ll stroke my hand, or my forehead, or just rest a hand on my chest.

It stops burning when he does that. His touch soothes the fever, soothes the rash. He doesn’t recoil from the feel of sandpaper skin.

I am grateful for that.

____________________

There are more swallows. They just sit and watch me. They’re pretty.

Briar is prettier.

____________________

If he were to hug me, would all of me be soothed? Would I be healed?

____________________

The window lock is old. If I were to open it, I could let Briar in.

I could go through it. I could finally jump, like other kids do.

____________________

I asked him what his name was. He didn’t answer me. He just held his hand to my forehead.

It was nice.

____________________

The doctors say I’m getting better. They don’t listen when I say the fever burns stronger, that it melts skin from my bone. They don’t listen when I say my skin is rougher than brick, that my throat is raw and bleeding even though I can’t see it.

They don’t listen.

____________________

Galante.

His name is Galante.

____________________

The sparrows left. The mighty black birds left. None of the birds return, except for Briar.

I wonder what that means.

____________________

I can hear him better, now. He doesn’t whisper as quietly anymore. Galante tells me he knows how to help me, but I must wait until he can tell me. He says it will only work when the fever is low enough.

I hope it goes down enough for him to help me.

____________________

Briar’s gone. They’ve been gone for a while, longer than before. I don’t think they’ll be coming back.

____________________

I’m going to die.

____________________

Did Alexander have dark hair? Did he have long hair? Did he look like Mama?

I can’t remember.

____________________

The burning, the burning, the blistering pain. It’s going to kill me. The writhing, it doesn’t help, nothing helps. Screaming only rips my throat, only makes my lungs burn as bad as my flesh. My stone flesh, my flesh of sandpaper, of bricks and rough things.

I am going to die.

There are birds at the window, again. Briar and the sparrows and the mighty black birds. They’re beating against the window, cawing screams that never stop. Or are those my own?

Galante is there. He is watching me. He is breathing in. I’ve never seen him breathe before.

He is speaking.

____________________

Galante made me an offer. I will live, but I must go to my brother.

I’ve forgotten what he looks like, what he sounds like.

Alexander looks peaceful in sleep. He doesn’t suffer, doesn’t know burning pain, stone skin, rotting throat like I do. He is peaceful.

I am next to him.

We are both peaceful.

____________________

The birds are gone, for forever. They have no more to do.

They have no soul to take.

____________________

My body is ash, but I remain. I am in his body, his mind no more, only mine. Galante tells me what to do.

He tells me to take the dust of Alexandra and take it to Evelyn, my eldest sister. I did not remember that. I did not know there were more than Alexander. Galante says she’s my sister, so I believe him.

I put the ashes, the dust of my pain and my brick flesh, in her fireplace. I scream, and she is taken away.

She killed Alexandra in a fit of rage, and burned her.

No one asks how she got in the room, or why there wasn’t any fight.

____________________

Evelyn is gone, my flesh burnt and dust, and Alexander’s body is all that remains, my mind inside it. I am excited to live, to run and dance and shout.

It was not to be.

____________________

He is a liar. Galante is a liar.

I am not in control.

He commands me.

____________________

My parents are gone.

They are sick in a way worse than I was. Galante killed them, made them sick with dead water and food.

I am all that’s left.

____________________

There is a prince in a kingdom far off, who kills those he loves. Or, he kills those that love him.

Are his sins worse than mine? Or mine worse than his?

Or are we the same?

____________________

Galante is making the world burn, through my body, It is ablaze, aflame, burning worse than my fever, burning worse than my flesh, than my throat.

He is destroying the world, and I cannot do anything but watch, and plead, a little voice in a dead mind.

____________________

There were three children.

Three children, once loved and cherished, now cursed to die by one cursed himself.

The eldest, Evelyn, shipped away and dead at her own hand. The twins, Alexander and Alexandra, never to part again.

Three children.

Now one.

[noxiatoxia]

had another idea,, imagine super young hikaru and kaoru, maybe like 6/7. their maids are practically raising them, parents are never around. and while the maids do take good Care of them, they're not really that empathetic or gentle with them because,, they're not supposed to be parents

i think that due to the lack of parent like attention the twins act out to get it, basically harassing and tormenting the poor maids. so if the maids were kind to the twins at the beginning, they definitely keep their distance now because the little shits are just mean. really sad stuff because its a vicious cycle at that point, they act out for attention and in return get even less each time

anyway the point is that the maids try to stay as distanced from the twins as possible. and the twins don't really like or trust them either because they're so distant with them

so maybe one of them, could be either but Kaoru this time, wakes up not feeling well. its not too bad yet so when the maids check on them in the morning, they don't see anything's wrong with them

but hikaru knows and is really worried and scared. kaoru starts getting a fever, its probably just a flu or something, but that still scares little hikaru so badly because he doesn't know how to function with kaoru in a state like this.

typically, when they get sick it happens at the same time. and when they do get sick, the maids will take them to a different room, put them in separate beds so they won't pass it back to each other, have private doctors monitoring them a lot, refuse to let them leave their beds/go play/talk alone. basically their worst nightmare. (dont ask me why they're so overkill. idk. dealing with sick kids sucks i dont blame them+if something really bad happens to the twins they're at risk of getting sued for everything they have)

so hikaru and kaoru realize that if they tell the maids kaoru is sick, they'll split them up. kaoru will be alone in that room being monitored, since its only him who's sick, and they'll kick hikaru out so he'll be all by himself all day (or until they're sure kaoru's better, and they tend to be really cautious so he'd probably have to sleep alone as well) and neither of them want that.

cue tiny hikaru sneaking around spy style trying to get things for kaoru without anyone noticing because itd be a dead giveaway something is wrong if he was seen alone. trying to steal soup from the kitchen and extra blankets from the cabinets to bring back to his brother. as well as just trying his damndest to make kaoru feel better, all while being worried out of his mind about him

a lot of cute stuff could come from this i think

ANON THIS IS GIVING ME. .RABIES. ANON!!!!!!!!!!

I LITERALLY POG WHENEVER U SEND ME SHIT ITS BEEN THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY WEEK FRFR.... <- SOBBING AND WAILING

But!!! I love this!!!! So so so much!!!! Ok. I will be Normal about this.

Firstly, your idea is EXACTLY my headcanon and tbh I read it in a fic before but I can't remember which one it's been so long... but I 100% agree. I think as little kids, Hikaru and Kaoru would act out a lot and do all those nasty and mean things for attention. Since mom and dad never gave it to them, they tried to get it other ways and the only way they knew how to get people to pay attention to them was to be devious little bastards and cause trouble. Bad attention is better than no attention. And it's really sad too, cuz this just pushed people away from them in the long run. But theyre little kids, of course they didn't think that far ahead. And they probably aren't very conscious on why they do what they do either. They just know it's funny and that it makes people look at them, and so they do it. If they're lucky, they'll do something really bad that makes Mama Hitachiin come home and scold them so they can see their mom again

...that sounds pretty sad saying it aloud, huh

and the second scenario. i fucking adore. I already am a big fan of tropes of characters getting sick bc of the Vulnerability (it can also just be goofy and comedic sometimes) but with the little kid Hitachiins.... oh boy oh boy.

Because, Hikaru isn't nearly old enough to be smart about this. It isn't like now where, if he was tasked with having to take care of Kaoru, he could do a basic good job. Make sure he drinks water, check his temperature; he'd know when a high fever was too high, he'd know who to call if it got bad. But as a kid? He knows none of this. And who can blame him? He's just a kid; it isn't his job to look after his brother like a doctor would. He still takes on the responsibility anyways, because it's Hikaru + he doesn't want anybody impeding. In the situation you laid out, he sure as hell doesn't want to be separated from Kaoru or let Kaoru suffer alone.

So, he just... decides to take care of Kaoru himself! Can't be too hard, right?

Tbh, it'd probably go very badly. He doesn't know what kaoru should eat- soup? He's seen it on cartoons. He'd sneak him some soup. It doesn't even occur to him at any point to check his temperature to make sure it isnt getting critically high or make him drink water or cool his body temp down, bc what 7yr is gonna know that...

And sadly, since they've pushed away so many of the regular maids, none of them really notice that they're more quiet than usual, or that they see only 1 at a time.

And when it comes to younger kids, esp if they have a high fever, it can get really bad really fast (tbh i speak from experience form an Incident i suffered as a child). Kaoru is really sluggish and really not feeling well, and after the third day mark, he's not getting much better. Probably just getting worse. Hikaru is afraid out of his mind.

Being just a kid (and you know how kids are. not very bright. would rather do ANYTHING else other than the right option if theyre afraid of it) he probably tries doing research on whatever Google was like at this time period or looking thru the books in their library at home. He's still young, so he has trouble reading much of the complicated words and things he doesn't understand.

I think dehydration would definitely be the biggest issue, esp if Kaoru has an upset stomach and is getting sick. Combined with the sweating from the fever - yeah, hopefully he's drinking water. And I'm sure Hikaru brings him some. But more realistically, he's probably giving him juices and other things which aren't bad, but not as useful as just...water. And he probably isn't drinking enough, anyways.

idk how it would end........ realistically? I think some maid comes in to clean their room or something and realizes, oh shit, this kid is REALLY sick wtf how long have you been like this. And then they're calling like ER and shit.

Oh, and a final thought: dunno how realistic it would be, but I'm a sucker for the trope of when somebody is hurt/sick/other ailment and Nobody Believes Them which I think could be very likely here. Maybe Hikaru and Kaoru pulled a prank like this in the past. Maybe the maid he asked that day was just pissed off and wanted to go home. Either way when Hikaru breaks and does try to get help he's shooed off and told to stop messing around. Which if he didn't trust these people before, he certainly doesn't now.

[lilaceas]

white hair

the flowerbud be still down avenue killers & shoots unseen turn in to pretty sunflowers as a wildness is proved by the sun every have heard what kills more than a warm showers did the talkers long rollercoaster girl girl girl girl girl girl girl down the path fifteen losen to the soul were talking & the talk wasn't winged clue of mysery of the beginning & to moutains of cocaine never been addicted darker than the colorless dick of old men, dark to come from a womb under the faith of red roofs of hungry mouths & sinned to hell out not in mama's house perceive no one is angry & feel nothing after all so many similar judge then uttering tongues hides in alice's holes any where fucking in wonderland made of silk & not grass or illusions & lies if we suffer we do this together so sick too mental i'm on hydroponic mint & perceive acts they do limited when change came dressed as quality come from the roofs & good & bad & all mouths for nothing i wish i could be born dead & happy i know angelic way to translate hate the hints about the rebelious little less young men & women but i do not talk i fly & saw moments of devil itself murdering as innocent the jailhouse of souls suicides of the beginning or the end.

there be never kiss of malt liquor drunken snow fallen any more needles & love an actress that only works to buy doses of parfums drinking to it as britney spears lip injections inception made me a dollar i'd trade to sex & every one sees than there is now nor any more beer & youth & soda if been on gold era listening to women or age in streets than there is now talking about when they runned up colder than corpses fighting for their life then a daughter will never be like her mother any more perfection could be reluctante so come over & sleep with me than there is now, morning i'd been on meth seen any other lie when clouds turn your eyes blind fallen for luxury & two pills that make me marry any other guy to be lost & found inside of a battle of my heart betwen middle ones from off 'till bones cremated without gas at my favourite babydoll burden that shut my mind i tought that his legs are warm too skinned pieces of me becomes unseen & ballerina magical lemon receives proof any metal gun in its dipped honey turn.

always a knit of identity if textiles doesn't needs colours so i rob & always as a pornstar distinction & always a easier of life.

to elaborate there no avail, learn & magicity unlearn feel that it is so hard to turn on sickest of 'em all sure musicians does my ex boys drug that's why i'm anemic since a child never tastes so candylike as the most sweetness teenage years been certain sure plumb in the uprights & nasal well entretied he still braced in the moonbeams & where's the moon party high howing the best & red roses full filled garden & reach the cars & when i died till you felt my beard, & reach till you didn't simplistic held my feet, nail polish & lily arose & spread shit all around me the peace & never exists inside those taxi knowledge that pass judgment that stays nectarine tangerine softly all the argument of the gardening how many pay & god know cross at church that the promise of my own & yours i'd buy lipgloss that money isn't mine anyway i'd been on ballerina shoes & a big pretty tiara of crystals & diamonds i'll never put on my finger ballerina's fingers driving dividing it from the western worst nightmare villains aged vixens knowing stars one by one the perfect fitness & now she's supermodel gun & white equanimity city of angels & death & violence of things while they discuss silent & dad denyied like me or love me then of fucking after make me fluffy i'm just as black kittens never sleeps go bathe on jasmine & mirror it & admire myself that's worst for a stratch television young girl welcome is children teddybears every one dies alone built to nursing cakes attribute of birthday of any daddy hearty otty an inch heels a particle of me inch is vile, & love none shall be less pearls familiar than the nest satisfied—see listen to my weak voice i'm a grow up nor alady in shame & loving bed-fellow sleeps diary at my side through the night, & peachy withdraws he peep the day with treading any cunts stuff for salad leaving me the town buy me a theatrical basket covered with blood shall we postpone my acceptation of undrape!

you are not guilty to me just dumb ass shit nor stale nor discarded on your face full of blood contamined with saturation sugar free see through superstition the witches broadcloth & gingham laughing whether or no do you miss old school have you ever been on new mexico am around santa fé dwelling most important stuff than tenacious & so emotionally distorted words i'd never say acquisitive & tireless & its bullshit never killed the floor & cannot be asleep you talk to fast for me i kiss with tongue & shaken away.

darker will be seen lazy bitch & her derealization & screamed at my fun its jokes & marriage after parties since honeymoon is over that they gazing smoke after smoke.

& down the road.

more bouquets of.

flowers have you seen.

forthwith cipher & next.

models generatiom show me.

to a cent america's burn exactly the.

value ofmyself exactly the value of two; victimized extra chic viciously & which is ahead should i act superior?

[nadineblogs-archived]

Me: I should draw the Slasher OC's I've shown people already

Also me: c h o n k y b o y t i m e

[zevlors-tail]

Okay but hear me out

Dad villain Izuku.

( I mean dadzuku for the won but still!)

Like, him having his precious little boy/girl?

Fierce protective dad?

Huh...kinda sounds like the start of a Mob AU.

Idk i just like dad izuku so I thought you might too!

You have just opened a can of worms you cannot close!!! Haha but really, here's some pregnancy/baby headcanons because a lot of people tend to enjoy that. Not really my cup of tea, but I'll make an exception here. To your credit, you've got me really thinking on this. 😳

“Not really my cup of tea”, I say, as I make the world’s longest headcanons about Vil!Deku being a dad.

TW: Pregnancy, children, cursing. :)

Dad Villain!Deku HC's

-Look, Vil!Deku is already possessive as fuck. The second he finds out you're pregnant? He will literally be attached to you at the hip. Can't go anywhere without this man. Can you say coddling?

-He's so thrilled and nervous at the same time. Not about being a bad parent or anything, more about you or your child getting injured, threatened, or put in danger.

-It started with some symptoms that looked like the run of the mill flu. You probably got pretty bad morning sickness, and he fussed over you the whole time; held your hair back for you, rubbed your back, made you tea, the whole nine yards.

-Both of you just thought it was a stomach bug. But you just kept getting sick, and Deku actually took some time off work to stay with you and make sure you were okay (what a gentleman).

-After a week of being sick, this man is so concerned about you and your health that he calls a doctor to your place to take a look at you. God help that poor doctor because if he even looks at you the wrong way, Deku will obliterate him.

-Doctor asks if you could be pregnant, and both of you just kind of go quiet.

-Deku had thought of that possibility but refused to acknowledge it because something that good? Happening to an outcast like him? A criminal? To someone who was never worthy enough to be a hero? No. Way.

-But it did! You can probably see Deku's eyes visibly sparkle when the doc asks that question. The doctor leaves with the theory that you're pregnant and tells you to take a test.

-Congratulations! You're both going to be parents!

-Everything is so different after that. Deku has always been soft on you because you're his Sweet, but he's extra soft and caring now. Also extremely protective and possessive?

-"It's just the grocery store. I can do it myself, it's alright!" You're out of groceries? He's going with you. You can't argue it. "I'll go with you." "What if someone recognizes you?" "They won't say a word about it. I’ll make sure of it." You know what that means...

-Pregnancy cravings are wild, but he's miraculously got it covered. Never forgets a single craving you've had. Always has your favorite foods on hand, including the odd ones. Pickles? There's three whole jars in the fridge. Certain flavor of chips? Always a bag in the pantry. And if there's ever an instance where you crave something he doesn't have on hand, he makes his lackeys go get it while he stays at home with you. But if he absolutely had to, he would get it himself.

-Nobody is allowed to touch you, especially not now that you're carrying his child. If anyone so much as breathes too close to you, they're toast.

-Keeps tabs on you 24/7. Has to know where you're at and that you're okay or he's worrying 25/8.

-Somehow he's even more crazy about you? Just the fact that you're pregnant with his child is enough to stir him up any day, any time. You've definitely caught him staring at your stomach obsessively several times.

-Takes THEE best care of you. You are your child's lifeline and the love of his life, so you have to stay healthy and happy. Once again...can you say coddling? Makes sure you've eaten throughout the day, brings you water, makes you rest, runs you hot baths, generally just keeps an eye on you to make sure you're okay. Oh, and if you're working? Say goodbye to that job for now. No way you're doing anything strenuous while he can help it.

-If you for some reason insist on keeping the 9-5 job and you manage to convince him otherwise, he visits you on your lunch break whenever he can and hacks into the security cameras way too often for his own good. Literally will be in the middle of a meeting watching live feed from your store. 

-Whenever the kid is due, he’s gonna have a bit of a rough time during the whole process. It’s hard for him, because he doesn’t trust the doctors and nurses at the hospital to give you top notch care when he’s not there, and he can’t really take you there anyways because of his villain status (do you think maybe villains have hospitals and resources for each other?? That would be kind of cool...). He ends up pulling some strings with a fellow vigilante/former villain connection who works in the hospital, and they work out some sort of undercover deal probably?

-Don’t question, just accept. He’s got it all covered. He gets to stay with you through everything and he’s got the best doctors and nurses on your case, top notch, extremely professional and comforting for you. They don’t bat an eye at a villain and his s/o and child, they just do their job and keep quiet about it (how does some extra cash sound?).

-Super tense right up until it’s all done. If looks could kill, everyone in that room besides you and the baby would be dead. But he softens right up once he gets to hold the baby. Despite you being extremely tired, you’re glad you stayed awake to see this, because there’s a certain look on his face. For a second, it almost seems like he’s back to how he was before...almost as if he was never a villain in the first place. The hope in his eyes is reminiscent of something old and nostalgic; it reminds you of when he aspired to be a hero. But still it’s not quite right.

-He is immediately mesmerized by your child. “They look like you...” He’s never held something so vulnerable before and felt so...warm, other than the times he’s held you.

-He would kill for both you and your child. If anyone ever threatened you or put the both of you in a dangerous situation, he would drop everything without a second thought to come running to save you. Pray for anyone who comes between the two of you; Deku will make sure they meet a fate worse than death.

-You both take turns taking care of the baby when they wake you up at night, but Deku will be willing to get up before you do nine out of ten times. He loves his child, he really does. It gives him something to take care of and nurture and it makes him feel hopeful again. That kid is his pride and joy.

-There was one time (but only one, because you absolutely ripped into him for it) where you heard the baby cry, and Deku offered to get up and take care of it, so you rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. But he never came back to bed, and the baby had been silent for a long time, so you got up to check on them to make sure they were alright, and what did you find? Deku, wide awake at his work desk with his laptop open, baby sitting comfortably on his lap with a bottle, and some surveillance footage and grotesque crime scene pictures pulled up. You were livid.

-”You better not be doing what I think you’re doing. You’re going to traumatize our child.” He looks like a deer caught in headlights when you interrupt his work. The baby just coos and gurgles, and you are absolutely mortified. He looks like he’s about to say something, and you cut him off before he can answer. “Whatever you’re going to say better be a damn good apology, Deku.” Oh, he’s in trouble all right. He just slowly shuts his laptop and brings the baby over to you. Kisses can fix everything, right? ;) He better hope so.

-Even though he’s a villain, the baby always goes quiet when he holds them. It’s like magic, almost. Sometimes you can’t get them to stop crying, and Deku will just come up and look at him with those soft eyes he reserves for only the two of you, and the baby just starts cooing and reaching out for him. Gee, favorites much?

-Never was there ever a moment more peaceful and serene than the time you came home to Deku asleep on the couch with his arms cradled around your child, face soft from sleep and the baby breathing lightly. You feel so lucky to have this in your life. It’s not easy being villains, but this was something you never expected to have, and it’s changed both of you for the better. 

Bonus:

-If Deku still has a relationship with his mom, you can bet he gets her to babysit when you decide to go back to work (if you do at all, because he really wants you to stay at home with him and the baby).

-If your mother wasn’t the best or isn’t around, congrats, Mama Midoriya is now your mother, and there is nothing you can do about it. And honestly? Deku loves seeing the way you bond with her. He’s made himself a tiny family that loves him for who he is. There’s no greater feeling in the world than that.

[sif-the-tsunami]

When I Was His Wife

“Well I was looking forward to/ staying here forever/ ‘cause you asked me to/ Didn’t think I could do better/ So I settled down/ in this ten cent town/ it’s about to break me.” These are the Best Years of my Life- Pistol Annies

This is the follow up to “When You Fall Apart” Which is one of my favorites that I’ve written.

(there is Sy just carrying the weight of all of my own internal chaos)

A/N thank you for everyone who encouraged me to write this, I adore Sy as a character. He seemed like someone who could pull off the impossible. I made some choices in here that not everyone will agree with. Tell me I’m wrong in the comments an we can discuss it there.

Pairing: Sy and Josephine

Warnings: again all of them. discussion of infidelity, Discussion of child loss, discussion of unprotected sexual intercourse, headbutting, day drinking, self medicating, therapy, swearing fealty on ones hunting knife, discussion of knife play, I’m probably missing something

 Everything is going below the cut this time to save anyone who doesn’t like this kind of stuff from unpleasantness.

word count just shy of 7.5K

Thank you to @inlovewithhisblueeyes for letting me bounce ideas off of you, love you sweet girl

tagging: @oddsnendsfanfics @willkatfanfromasia @rocket44 @feralrunaway @littlewrenofrivia​  @summersong69​  @coffeebooksandfandom​ @klaine-92​ @nothingright​ @cavillsim​ @watery-lane​ @above-average-ass-bitch 

unbeta’d

I slept for the next two days, Mama only woke me up long enough to drink some water once she started worrying about me. She managed to wrangle my out of my clothes and into one of Daddy’s shirts we got him that she left in the drawer. My phone was dead, but thankfully Mama and I had the same kind so I could charge it today. What fresh hell was going to be waiting for me on my digital leash? I lay there for a while, the murmur of conversation in the other room was comforting. Mama left a fresh glass of water some time recently, it was still chilly with only a little condensation forming around the sides. The ache in my chest was almost unbearable. The hole in my heart was Syverson sized, being sober made the edges of that abyss feel even more raw and pronounced. I don’t know if my liver could handle me drowning my sorrow much more, but I would give anything to not feel it. I need to make this feeling of worthlessness go away.

When I finally decided to rejoin the land of the living, Mama and my brother Teddy were talking at the kitchen table, discussing about if they should come with me to go get my things or if I should call the sheriff’s office to be monitored. I stayed behind the corner long enough to let them finish what they were going on about.

“If I know Jo well enough, she’s going to need someone to keep her from burning the whole house down with him in it tied to a chair,” my brother chuckled. “She’s been taking care of herself for years. You should have seen how she handled one of these girls who came up to us once on Post.

“Jo was loading up the car when this prissy little thing came walking up, she must have thought she was some kind of hot shit. You would have been so proud of her Mama, the girl said to her that she had been sleeping with James during their deployment. All Jo said back to her was ‘You’ve both been back for something like three months, right, have you seen him since?’ Little Miss Hot Shit stuttered and said ‘Well not yet,’ like she had been really holding out that he was going to. ‘He doesn’t have my new phone number.’ Jo just tiled her head to the side. Smiled at her real sweetly and told her, ‘Baby girl, he’s not going to. He knows how to find you. You were just a rental car to him, sweetie bell. Ford Fiestas are fun as hell to ride but let’s be honest, you aren’t going to pick a Fiesta over the Mercedes Benz you have at home. You aren’t the first and you sure as hell won’t be the last, now go on and get out of here before I ruin the rest of your day like you tried to ruin mine.’ One of the other officer’s wives came up to her and said she was amazed that she handled her so well without breaking Miss Prissy Pant’s face. She just said ‘I’m too pretty to go to prison, Kathy.’ And we hoped in the car. You raised one tough lady, Mama.”

“How many times has that happened, Theodore, I need to know.”

“She has only told me about four women meeting her face to face. The two pregnant girls who got knocked up to get out of their deployments, Prissy Pants, and one who thought that James was in love with her. She evidently broke down in tears on the tarmac when Josie jumped into his arms and he swung her around. But she would get letters tucked into the windshield of her car for months whenever he returned from deployment.”

“You two kept this from me for years, why?”

“Jo said that this was her problem, don’t you remember how you handled it when her first boyfriend ran out on her on prom night? She cried to you and Dad, and you just told her that no one is worth weeping over. She’s just been trying to make you proud, Mama. Daddy might have known because I know they had a really nasty fight about a month before he died.”

I walked out after that. Mama’s eyes were red, “Good morning, baby, do you want pancakes? Bacon and eggs? What do you want, Darlin’?”

“Coffee would be a good start.” I rasped. “Can I use your charger?”

“It’s right here. Cream and sugar?”

“Black as my sense of humor, please Mama.” I said, Teddy chuckled again. I reached over and squeezed my brother’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here.”

“I got to look after my little sissy.” He replied using what he called me growing up. “So what are we doing to get over Jimmy?”

“I was thinking tattoos and day drinking?”

“Atta’ girl, Josie. Fuck that douche canoe.”

As soon as my phone was able to turn on, it sat on the counter vibrating for the next five minutes.  Six missed calls from James. And seventy text messages. A few from stores I shop at, but the majority were from my husband.

“Ugh, I just don’t feel like dealing with this right now.” I said as my mom put my coffee in front of me.

“Just leave him on read. I doubt he’s hurting for company.”  Mama said, in almost a snarl. I looked through a few messages. The last one was from this morning. Sweetheart, I’m worried sick about you, I miss you. Please talk to me?

“Ted, do you want to go with me to Walmart so I can get a couple day’s worth of clothes, I am just not ready to go back and I can’t live in Daddy’s old shirts.”

“Of course, we can get some booze while we are there.”

“Get yourself a bathing suit while you are there, honey, its going to be beautiful today and you can go for a swim.” Mama added.

I texted James back finally as I finished my coffee. I’m sorry I worried you, Sy, I have literally been asleep since I got here. I’m not ready.

I understand. I’m sorry, I should have seen how much I’ve been hurting you. I swear to God, I really do love you. Please, let me know what I can do for you.

Yeah, you should have, James. You should have seen how bad you’ve been treating me. You can drop off the face of the earth, that’s what you can do for me, I think spitefully. Thankfully, Mama washed my yoga pants and tank top. It would have to be alright for now. My brother let me wear one of his extra flannel shirts he kept in the back of his car. An hour later, Ted and I were at the store, picking up chips, dip, and cheap champagne. Mama loved mimosas, so I thought it was the least I could do. I grabbed a couple of sun dresses and a bikini, if I was going to be gone for a few days, I was going to come back home looking refreshed, radiant even, and not like the hot pile of garbage I was feeling like. I made a small detour to the cosmetics department, got myself a couple of face masks, hair dye, and sun screen.

“Really? Dark brown, Josie?”

“That’s as close to my natural color as I can, I’m tired of the blonde highlights. I think after this I might just let it come in. Grays and all. Who ever loves me next is going to have to just deal with me as nature intended.”

“I’m proud of you. Do you think you will leave him for good?” He said, Ted has always been very protective of me.

“Well, I certainly can’t leave him for evil, can I?” Making him laugh. One the way outside there was a truck near the front of the store with a sign that read “Puppies for sale.”

“Teddy, we need to see these puppies.” I gasped. Walking up to the truck bed I saw the sweetest little German Shepard puppies. I reached in and they all started flopping all over the place trying to get pets and love. Maybe a puppy was exactly what my hurting heart needed. We haven’t had a dog since Aika passed away. It was looking like I would never have a baby but maybe this was the kind I needed. Puppy snuggles would definitely make that Syverson shaped hole less painful.

“I’ll buy you a puppy if you divorce James.” Ted said to me, half joking.

“Shit, I can afford the puppy, pay for the divorce.” I jest back. “How much for one of the precious babies?”

“$500 a pup, mom has a pedigree, but daddy was the neighbor’s sneaky bastard.” The woman also petting the puppies said. “Mama is in the front if you want to meet her, daddy is very friendly as well.”

I start laughing uncontrollably. With tears in my eyes, I ask if any of the puppies are girls, and she pulls   out a beautiful little one with floppy ears and the biggest smile I had ever seen on a dog. Oh yeah, she was meant for me.

“I’ll take her, do you take checks?” I think I’m ready to start healing.

*****

“Josephine, that son of a bitch you call your husband is here to see you.” Mama shouts from the house. It’s Sunday afternoon now, Teddy and I have exhausted all the snacks and mimosas hours ago and now we were sobering up by the pool. My new baby girl is laying next to my sun chair, chewing on her bone, wearing a pretty pink collar.

“Well, might as well let him out here.” I shout back.

“Are you sure, I can kick his ass to the curb if you want me to, baby.”

“Its okay Mama, I can handle him myself.” Sy walks out in the back yard a couple minutes later. I’m guessing Mama threatened to stick him in a meat grinder.

“I deserved that.” He said, looking thoroughly admonished. “You changed your hair, it looks really good...

“Oh bless your heart, James. That’s not even half of what you deserve.” Ted spoke up before he could finish, not moving his face towards him. He lay there in his swim trunks and dark sunglasses.

“Oh great, all three of you have been drinking. I can tell this is going to go well...” James sighed. “Who is this cutie pie, did your Ma get a new dog?”

“She’s my dog, her name is Stella Rosa.”

“I don’t think anyone asked you to come, Colonel Sanders, what are you doing here?” Ted snapped.

“Hey, I got this, okay? I’m a big girl, please, go in the house. The fuck are you doing here James?” I lift my sun glasses up.

“She’s a very sweet pup. Yeah, you are a good girl for your mama, aren’t you? I came to see you. I want to bring you home, baby, I miss you.” He’s checking out my fresh tan in my new bikini. Subtly, but he does it.

“I’m not ready. I’m not even ready to talk to you. Why would you think that I even want to come home?”

“I don’t know, I asked myself that the entire drive here. I don’t know what I’m even going to do with myself when I go home alone. Pussycat, I can’t begin to think of life without you. I know I fucked up. And I know I can’t take that back. You asked me the other day what I kept that was special just between us. I should have answered you then. All those nights where you fell asleep with your head on my chest, the evenings laying in the back of the truck looking at the stars after driving around trying to find the best nachos in town. And, baby, no matter where we go, yours are always the best. No one else ever got moments like that. You are the only woman I want to slow dance with in the middle of the night.

“You are the only person in the world that I would wait four hours in the freezing cold to get the best brisket in Austin for because you were craving bbq when we were still, you know...” He paused. I don’t think he ever stopped blaming himself for what happened. His knees were never the same after that accident, and usually whenever he stood up from kneeling, they clicked and popped painfully. He leaned a little closer spreading his legs and reached down to pet Stella. She seemed a little leery of him. It is easy to be cynical given the circumstances, but there is something about the way he is talking to me, I haven’t heard him be this earnest in years.

“When was the last time you were with someone other than me?” I can’t bring myself to look at him. I keep my eyes anywhere but on him. My body aches so badly for him to just wrap his arms around me. I miss him.

“When I got held up in Kuwait for two weeks in December...”

“December? You mean when you missed my fucking birthday. Goddammit James...” And the ache is gone. My heart shattered again. He’s going to make me cry again.

“Hey, it was after your birthday, and it was a hate fuck because I was mad that I broke yet another promise to you.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” I snap. “How many that deployment?”

“Just the one. And she’s someone who I knew was more discreet because we had that arrangement before.”

“I swear on my Daddy’s grave that if you are lying to me right now, I will end you Syverson. You couldn’t have waited a few more days?”

“I had no idea when I was going home. We boarded that fucking plane three times and had to turn back because there was a problem with it. I was two seconds away from tearing apart the first Private that so much as looked at me sideways. It felt like, at the time, the less terrible choice.”

“They sound both pretty shitty to me. You are a fucking adult James, you have to be able to control yourself or at least be responsible for your actions. If this is what you think love is, I would rather you hate me.” I stand up. Stella wags her tail excited to get away.

“Josephine, please...” He grasps my wrist, not hard, but there wasn’t anyway I was going to be able to get out of his big hand.

“Please what? Please stay so you can keep treating me like this. There are some people in this world who have no problem playing second or third fiddle, they are just thankful they are in the band. But I deserve to be your first chair, or I don’t want to play at all.”

“Mama wants to know if the jackass is staying for dinner.” Ted shouts at us.

“He going!” “I’m staying!” we yell over each other. He’s not looking at me, he’s not even looking at the pup. His eyes are somewhere else, mentally for a second he is somewhere else also.

“Baby…  I… You have always been my first chair. There is no one else on earth like you. I have never done anything with these women as an act of love. It was always been, and I mean always, just a way to scratch an itch. Every time I was gone, every time things got bad, getting to come home to you was the thing that keep me going, Jo. You have been my safe harbor for the worst parts of my life.”

“James… That doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. You aren’t the man I fell for anymore. This isn’t healthy.” He let go of my wrist, and rubs his face. Those beautiful eyes of his have seen so much. For the first time I think he actually looks… broken. Is this the remorse I have been wanting to see? I try not to keep scores, especially when it comes to my loved ones. But for the first time since things went sour, he looks like I hurt him as much as he has hurt me.

Maybe there was love between us once. However there are just two broken hearts for now.

“Come on in the house, I can at least feed you before I send you back.”

“I think I will just go,” he says it quietly. “I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“Don’t be like that, I am still cooking like I’m making dinner for you, so its way too much for the three of us. Come on in, I made carnitas.”

“I’ll be in, I just need a minute.” He refuses to let me see him cry if he’s not waking up screaming, even after all this time. Whenever we could have a healing moment, he pushes me out. I went inside, and started setting the table.

“Are we poisoning his tacos?” Teddy asked me.

“That’s not the worst idea I’ve heard today.” Mama interjected.

“No, and don’t start anything. He’s eating dinner with us, don’t either of you make him feel bad. I already did that.” Sy walked in at that moment, those blue eyes of his rimmed with red. He looked defeated. The four of us ate our dinner in silence. There was a time where he would have made some kind of comment about eating me out when we had tacos. He looked at me once during the meal, I think he remembered it too. He offered to clear the plates when were all done and sat in uncomfortable silence. The cockiness I had grown accustomed to over the years was gone.

He carried himself like this when we lost our baby, he can’t take that kind of humility. At least not with me.

“Sy...” I waited until the others were out of the room. “Do you still want me to come home with you?”

“Not if it means all we are going to do is get a divorce. I can’t see you every day knowing that I will never get to be yours again. I let them do a lot of terrible things to me over the years, but that… that I can’t handle.” His voice cracked. “If you want out, I will give you everything you ask for. I won’t fight you. But please, give me a chance to fight for you.”

“I don’t think you are exactly in a position to make that that request.” I lean against the counter across the room from him.

“No, I’m not.” he half smirked, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Look, I’m not saying that this can’t still all explode in our faces. But I miss my best friend and that has always been the best part of us. It will never be the same as it was before, it can’t be. However, if you are willing to work with me, I am willing to see if we there is any salvageable. If nothing else, we both need therapy very badly. We can’t just shrug this off. The second that it goes back to where we were, I’m gone.”

“Okay. I’ll do it.” He sniffs hard, and his breath is broken up, tucking his arms against himself. Usually its in authority, this time hes just trying to hug himself. I gesture him to come over and I hug him. He wraps his arms around then envelopes me. Leaning his head on mine, he whispers “I’ll do whatever you want, my darlin.”

I told my mom that I would be going home, she sighed at me. “Do you think this is the best idea?”

“I don’t know, Mama. I think I just want some closure. I told him if he so much as sneezes out of line that I’m gone. Forever. There will be no more chances.”

“Well, baby, I trust you. You are always welcome back here if you need to get away.”

While I’m packing my stuff into the shopping bags I had, I hear a sudden crack and Sy groans then swears. “yeah, I deserved that too.”

“What the fuck did you just do, Theodore?” I yell coming out. Ted was still holding my husband’s hand, and Sy was holding his face. “Did you… just headbutt him?”

“Yes, I did. My sister my might be willing to move past your mistakes, but I’m not. However, I’ve always been the petty one in the family. Hurt her again, they will have to dig your nuts out of your chest cavity, do we understand each other?”

“Yep, perfectly.” Sy grimaced. There were very few men that he would not retaliate against. Teddy, at 6’5, and years of horse wrangling, was one of them. Sy was build like a brick shit house, but so was my big brother. I thought we were old enough to not resort to violence, I have been wrong before.

My probably, potentially, soon to be ex-husband put mine and Stella’s things in the back bench of his truck. I held her in the crook of my arm as I climbed up in the cab. He gently shut the door for me, I noticed his shiner was going to be pretty gnarly in the morning.

He climbed into the other side as I set little Stella down on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it was a cheap shot, I’ll be fine. At this point, I don’t want to rock the boat with your brother and Ma. She tore me a new asshole before I got outside today.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t changed your mind, say to hell with me and that I’m not worth the hassle.”

“Josephine, I might not have made the appropriate effort to show you how much you mean to me, but you are worth it.” The Syverson shaped hole in my heart roared. Why couldn’t he have been this way all along?

We talked about the girl at the movies, and how she was one of his new officers. She might have come on to him, but he never engaged with her outside of work related things. He told her several times that he wasn’t interested but she was persistent. I halfway apologized for trying to decapitate him with a tequila bottle. He acknowledged that this was a long time coming.  This was the most we had talked about anything deep for months. I don’t know if it was too little and too late though.

The rest of the drive home we made a plan of action. He would move into the office and would stay in there until I invited him back into my bed. We would start couple’s therapy as soon as we could. He would also start seeing a therapist individually. Before we got into town I also told him my final request for our reconciliation. I wanted to see other people. I had been with him since I was nineteen, I have never faltered in my devotion to him. I wanted to see if he was really the one for me.

When I got home, I poured out the rest of my alcohol, save for a bottle of champagne I was saving for our anniversary. He took Stella outside to go potty and came back singing her name “Stella bella, who is a good girl? Your Mama picks good puppies, yes she does. Good girl, Stella bella.”

Stella came prancing back to me with her tail wagging happily. He walked up behind me, and grazes the backs of my arms gently with his knuckles, leaning down to kiss my neck. “Not yet, Sy. I don’t want us to complicate things more than they already are.”

“Josie, what do you mean?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you until we start therapy.”

“So you want us to stop having sex, sleep in separate rooms and at some point you want to start seeing other men.” He starts nodding. He lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes. “Okay, it that’s what you want to do. I was thinking about getting my stuff out of the bedroom so I can try to get some sleep. I love you, Pussycat. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, James went to bed. He was snoring on the couch in the office by the time I went to go lay down.      

****

It took us three weeks to get into see a couples therapist. It felt a little validating about my decision that we shouldn’t sleep together until we have really decided to try or not. She had me stay behind and talk with her for another half an hour the first time we met.  She asked me why I wanted to save my marriage with Sy if he’s hurt me for years.

“I don’t rightly know,” I told her. “Maybe its because when we are good we are so damn good. Before we were married, I was warned, I knew that things happened overseas and I shouldn’t take it personally, he’s just a man and not a saint. I never have had a doubt in my mind about if he’s been faithful when he’s been here until recently when a woman he knows started acting weird around me. The love we had was so passionate, like sometimes he thought that if he couldn’t put his hands on me I would disappear. I don’t think I will ever find someone who can love me like that again.”

The therapist suggested that he starts getting treated for PTSD and anger management while we all were working together. I would also have my own separate sessions to work on my own issues. It took a few months but I started seeing small differences in how he was handling things at work that pissed him off. He was able to defuse himself more easily. He became more open with his feelings. I think it helped that we both stopped drinking. We could be a little volatile when we had a pitcher (or three) of margaritas.

There were days with our sessions where we leave emotionally exhausted and not speak to each other the rest of the day, some of them ended in peals of laughter, others where I would cry for most of it. We discussed the infidelity at great lengths. I don’t want to rehash the details but it was definitely one of the bad days. But it seems that the root cause was him using the only the other women for comfort after fairly traumatic events. It’s why it only happened on deployments. He needed to feel something other than pain.

The lack sexual intimacy between the two of us made James start to get creative to initiate closeness between the two of us. He started helping me make dinner on the weekends, or he would bring me my coffee in the morning the way I like it. Mama and Teddy started coming over occasionally for suppers. It was nice to have the house filled with laughter. We started talking again like when we first started dating. He would take the time to go with me grocery shopping.

He started asking me out on dates again. Myself, him and Stella would drive out to the country, with a picnic basket that he would even prepare himself and we would go star gazing like we used to. I loved seeing the effort, but that hole still ached in my chest the whole time. The pieces should have all fit together, but here I was still not sure I could commit to him for the rest of my life.

On one of these dates, he asked me what I thought about him retiring. He had been in for almost nineteen years at this point and had far exceeded is expectations for being in the Army as an officer.

“I kind of just want to sell off all our extra shit and buy a really nice Air-stream. We can pull it with my truck. Just travel up and down the continent, I know you always have wanted to see the Northern Lights, we can just go anywhere. Me, you and Stella would visit where ever we could find a parking spot.”

“That sounds nice, Sy.” It came out a little half hearted.

“You don’t sound convinced, sweetheart.” He said, started sounding concerned.

“Hun, I don’t want to have a fight right now, so please just let me get this off my chest.” I sigh. And then I told him about the pain in my chest that I’ve had since my night in jail. That sometimes, like tonight, it was only a dull ache. That other times the edges are still so sharp that it feels like the pain was going to swallow me whole. He sits up, jaw dropped.

“Why haven’t you told me this before? I… Jo… son of a bitch.” He groans. He lays back down, the same defeated tone came back that I hadn’t heard since Mama’s house. “I’m trying my best, Josephine, but I feel like I have one hand tied behind my back… you will never love me again, will you?  I can grovel, and beg. I don’t know what else I need to do. I know what I want to do, but it will just hurt you more.”

“What do you want to do, Sy?”

“I want to kiss every part of your skin, remind your body that I worship it. I want to pin you to the wall of our hallway and make love to you. I want to go to sleep with my nose buried in in your hair, and wake up sliding inside of you. I have since you came home. Hell, I always want to do that with you. But that can’t be the only thing that keeps us together.” He looked over at Stella sprawl out.

“I didn’t say this to hurt you, hun. I just wanted to be honest with you.”

“I know, I… just don’t want to cause you more misery. I really thought we were, you know, heading back in the right direction.”

“We have been, and honestly, I think if we threw in the towel now, it would cause more harm than good.” I say as the tears well up in my eyes. For the first time since I was taken away, I straddle his hips. He sits up and I place my hands on either side of his face, then lean in to kiss him. He kisses me back with the same hunger. I missed him. The ache dulled a little until he pulled away.

“Let’s get going, Jo, I want you so fucking bad. I want to take you here and now, I want to make you scream my name and damn anyone who catches us. We need to stop this, the agreement was that we wouldn’t. Fuck I’ve missed how you taste.” He said before stealing one more kiss.

*****

The next week was awkward to say the least, the therapist was pleased about the kissing and that I opened up. She said that it was possible that the pain would go away, but that he and I needed to remember that it was like I was grieving. In the mean time, we should continue to take it slowly because we both needed to be sure. The following few days he was distant, and the ache returned in full force.

With his PTSD treatments, he was having less nightmares. It was the best thing I could ask for. There were still times where he would yell in his sleep but they had become farther and farther apart. It was a night after he had his individual treatment, he had come home talking about how he felt the night of my breakdown. He came home and told me a little bit, how he had never seen me so angry before, thrashing about like a caged animal. He hated himself for pushing me there. That night, in the darkness of the small hours, I woke up from being dead asleep hearing him say my name in a panic. He then repeated sounding more and more scared. “Josie, oh my god, Josie, no. I’m sorry Jo, I didn’t mean to. JoJo!”

I rushed into the office, he was jerking violently in his sleep about on the couch. I turned on the light near his head. When these dreams happen, his eyes were usually opened, it creeps my out every time. I start to gently wake him up, saying his name and touching him as gently as possible. It took a few moments but he came back to me.

“Jo, Jesus fuck, you’re alright?”

“Of course I am, sweetheart, what happened? I’m right here, I’m okay, you are okay, everything is okay.”

“I dreamed we were back in the kitchen, you were under me. Screaming and whipping about. I had to restrain you more then I accidentally broke your neck and you died in my arms. It felt real, baby, I was holding your body and then the sheriff came and that’s when you woke me up. Oh my god. I fucking can’t. I can’t anymore. I need you, Josie. If something happens to you, oh fuck.” I have never seen James sob like this. He pawed at me until I was wrapped in his arms. I slipped my arms around his neck and held his head to mine. His sobs were hard. We sat there until he let it all out.

“Come on, big man, let’s get you into bed. Come with me. I’ll stay with you all night.” He nodded at me and followed me to the bed we used to share. I wrapped him up in our fluffy blankets. He snuggled into me and was asleep in moments. I stayed there in his arms until he woke up. The Syverson shaped hole hurt less that night.

When he woke up he started crying again. He held me and started kissing my face. “Thank god. I thought you coming to me last night was another dream.”

“No baby, I’m here.” He sniffed hard and squeezed me closer to him. We went back to sleep for a few more hours and when we got up for the day he moved his things back into our bedroom. We might not have started other marital acts but we both started sleeping better having the other person in bed. It had been almost six months we started trying to reconcile.

*****

It had been an interesting couple of months while we started the transition for him to retire. Soon it was only a matter of days. The dates had continued, the kissing had continued, but something was keeping me back from being able to say that the next step was what I wanted. Therapy continued, and we would be seeing her for the next few months. Before I left my private session she asked me if I had given myself a deadline. She was concerned that I might keep dragging it out and that would just make both of us miserable. I told her I had an idea and that I planned on pulling the trigger soon.

Sy’s superiors were setting up a retirement ceremony for him, followed by a dinner with the upper chain of command. He wasn’t looking forward to it, Sy just wanted to be out and done. He came home one day while I was watching a show based on a book series I had read when we first were married. The redheaded Scot swore fealty to his wife, offering to pierce his own heart with a dagger if he should ever rebel against her again.  

“What’s this you’re watching?” He asked.

“Outlander, it just picked back up again from a season break. It’s pretty damn close to the book.”

“So is this what the ladies like these days, men in kilts offering to off themselves if they fuck up?”

“Women have liked men in kilts since I can remember. Why do you think we go to the Renn Faire every year.” I wink at him. “But yeah, I’m sure that does it for some people.”

“Well shit, Pussycat, it’s the only thing I haven’t done.” Sy walked out of the room and came back with his favorite hunting knife. It had been his dad’s once upon a time. The handle was made out of buck horn. In his warn and dusty uniform, he knelt in front of me on the living room floor. His beautiful blue eyes looking into mine, “Well, this isn’t iron, and it definitely isn’t holy. However, I will swear on it either way. Josephine, you are the only woman I have ever loved, you are my best friend, and I adore you. I will never do anything to make you doubt that love or loyalty again. If I ever do anything that makes you feel like you are less than the beautiful, smart, incredible, sexy creature that you are, you can sink this right in my heart. I will even hold it there for you so all you have to do is press it right in.” He finishes with a tongue click as an exclamation.      

“James, you didn’t need to do this. You know I am weird about grand gestures.”

“No, I think I do. I said my vows to you on our wedding rings and I wasn’t able to keep it. But, I will never break this one. If I can earn your love back, I will never do anything to make you regret giving me this chance to be your man.” He still held the knife against his chest with one hand, and placed my hand over his with the other. “So what do you think, baby girl? We still have a long way to go, but I can’t think of anyone else I would rather struggle with.”

“I think you just put yourself in a position that I could just end you now if I wanted to.” I say with my usual sass.

“Yes, you could. I don’t think you will though.” He said smiling, his voice was husky and deep as usual. I love that easy smile of his.

“Is it wrong that I want to get on your lap and make out with you while I hold this against you.” His eyebrow raised. “Maybe more than just make out with you.”

“Oh, don’t you tease me now, sweet thing. I don’t want to start anything you won’t finish.”

“Who said I won’t finish it, Colonel Syverson?” His eyes grew as big as dinner plates.  

“Wait, do you mean it?” He choked.

“Yeah, I do mean it.” I laughed. Before I could get up, he had hiked the skirt of the dress I was wearing up to my hips, pulling me to the edge of the sofa, revealing that I had skipped a certain garment that day. “I had an idea for after supper, but if you want we can do this now…. Oh fuck I’ve missed this.”

Before I can even finish my sentence, he was going to town with his tongue on his favorite part of my body. He remembered everything that made me squeal in delight. From the lack of sex on both of our ends, he was able to get me off easily. My body was desperate for his touch. He stopped once my body was trembling, kissing one of my thighs from my apex to my knee. He suddenly grunted and bit down on a tender part. He started panting and kissed the spot he bit.

“I’m sorry, sugar, I didn’t want to only last for two or three thrusts. Fuck, I have missed this pretty pussy. You taste so good.” He had a handful of his own cum and looked around for a tissue. Without a word, I grabbed his hand and licked it clean, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. He moaned out and then stood up. He took his shirt off, and lifted me up off the couch. I knew this hurt his back and knees but I wasn’t about to chastise him for wanting to be romantic. He carried me like we were on our honeymoon back to the bedroom. He lay me down as gently as possible then finished stripping himself. I took my dress off leaving myself exposed to him in a way that I haven’t in almost a year. Sy joined me on the bed, open and vulnerable to me. I loved those thick thighs and torso of his, he always eclipsed me.

“Hello ladies, nice to finally see you again.” He purred as he licked and sucked on my nipples. He leaned to one side and massaged my breasts with one of his hands. “Glad to see you that you missed me too.”

Before long, I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh. He spread my legs and rubbed himself against my opening. He leaned down and kissed my neck before sliding himself inside of me. I moan his name as he gently started making love to me. Bearing his weight on his elbows, he kissed and nipped at my neck.

Breathlessly, he told me how much he missed my body, how much he loved me, how lucky he was to have me. As his tempo increased, he started to whisper in me ear.

“Josephine, tell me what you are.” I looked at him confused. “You are my wife, I want you to tell me that you are my wife.”

“I’m your wife, James.” I tell him as lovingly as possible.

“Louder, baby.”

“I’m your wife.” I said loud and clearly. The Syverson shaped hole in my chest is gone, finally. Replaced with the warmth of knowing we were going to be able to survive this.

“Even louder, Jo.” I yell it out and he thrusts harder and deeper. “Keep going, beautiful, I want the whole neighborhood to know.”

I screamed it as he started pounding me harder, building his orgasm. As my own starts its crescendo, I screamed his name and arched my back as he pulls my hips down on himself and spilled into me. He lay down beside me, twitching and jerking a little. He kisses all the parts of my skin that is available to his reach.

“I think we should order a pizza for dinner tonight,” He says after a few minutes of catching his breath. “So we can stay in bed and make love again.”

“Or, and hear me out. I put my dress back on, you get dressed and we go out for sushi with your cum dripping down my thighs. What do you think about that?”

“Shit, I missed you being a damn freak like that. Do I we get to have more fun tonight if I say yes?” He chuckles, then kisses my hand, “I still want you to ride me with my knife pointed at me some time tonight.”  

“Aren’t you scared I’m going to cut off a nipple or something.”

“You, with a knife? To be honest, cutting off my nipple is the least of my concerns. How do I know if this just isn’t a whole plan to lure me into complacency with sex and sushi, then you just murder me in my sleep.” He rolled onto his back and whined for a second, but got up. He put on a pair of khaki shorts and a black Metallica t-shirt as I got into my dress again.

“God damn woman, you are so fucking sexy.” He tells me as he opens the door on my side of the truck and leans down to kiss me again. As I climb up he give my butt a little tap just like he used to and closes the door for me. The ache I’ve been feeling these long months has subsided. Sitting across the cab from me, holding my hand, he asks if we want to go look at travel trailers this weekend. For the first time in a while, I feel like everything is going to be alright.

[sequinsmile-x]

Day-to-Day

Emily is the glue that holds the family together, aka five times the Hotchner family needed Emily.

A story in the “5 times + 1″ format.  

Part of the Whatever Tomorrow Brings universe.

Chapter 1 - Amelia. 

Read on AO3 via this link, or below the cut

March 2010

Aaron wakes to his bed being empty. He rubs his eyes, trying to remove the last remnants of sleep, and he turns to check the alarm clock, groaning when he sees it’s 3am. He touches the other side of the bed and feels that the sheets are cold, indicating that his wife had been gone for some time. Amelia had been off the evening before, their usually happy baby grouchy and sleepy. Which was always the first sign that she was coming down with something. Theo had been ill the week before, a bug he’d picked up from school, and Aaron had naively hoped they’d managed to avoid it being passed on to the youngest Hotchner.

He sits on the side of the bed and spots light filtering out from under the ensuite door. He walks over, opening the door to find his wife laying back in the bath, Amelia dozing on her chest. Emily looks tired, a small smile on her face when she spots him. “Hey.” She rasps out, staying quiet so she doesn't wake their daughter.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Aaron walks in and kneels on the floor next to the bath. “Everything ok?”

“She woke up about an hour ago, she had a fever. I thought a lukewarm bath might bring it down, but she started to cry every time I tried to put her in here herself.” Emily says gently, placing a hand on Amelia’s forehead. “It’s come down a bit.”

“You should have woken me up.” He says, placing a hand on their daughter's back. “I’d have helped.”

“It’s ok, honey.” She says placing her hand over his. “You need your sleep, work has been rough on you lately.”

“Right.” He says, with a raised eyebrow. “Because your job is a piece of cake.” Aaron links their fingers and runs a thumb over her knuckles. “You don’t have to do it all on your own anymore, Em. I’m here now. We’re all here.”

She purses her lips together and nods at him. It was still her instinct sometimes to try and do it all by herself, especially anything to do with the kids. Memories of those months spent alone waiting for Foyet to be stopped were sharp, and sometimes it still took her breath away. How close they had come to losing everything.

“Can you take her?” She asks softly. “She should be fine for now.”

“Of course.” He lifts the toddler off of his wife's chest and wraps her in a towel. Amelia wakes almost immediately, grumbling at being removed from her mother. “Let’s go get you dressed sweetie.”

He takes Amelia to the nursery and puts a fresh diaper on her, and a thin sleepsuit. He frowns at the warmth still on her skin, and soothes her when she starts to cry again. “I know what you want, you want Mommy.” He lifts Amelia into his arms and kisses her forehead. “I don’t blame you, I always want her when I feel sick too.”

Emily is already in bed dressed in one of his shirts when he walks back into their bedroom. Amelia immediately reaches out for Emily, the little girl's face already scrunched up as she cries. He passes Amelia over, lets his wife take him into her arms. “Mama.”

“You’re ok, sweet girl.” Emily says, running a hand over the back of her daughter’s head. She kisses her forehead and frowns. “It’s gone down, but she’s still warm.”

“We’ll call the doctor if she’s still got a temperature in the morning.” He says. Emily nods, settling Amelia so she is resting against her chest. The little girl's favorite place to sleep when she was sick or sad. “Sweetheart, you aren’t going to get any sleep if she’s in here.”

“I know.” She replies, soothing the small coughs coming out of Amelia by rubbing her back. “I’ll get someone to drop some case files and paperwork here tomorrow, work from here until she’s better.”

“And if you get a case?”

She glares at him. “Then I’m sure the team can handle it without me. It’s not like they haven’t before.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I’m not leaving her if she’s sick, Aaron.” She says, her voice firm. “She only settles for me if she’s sick and I’m not putting either of you through that.”

He knew his wife somehow felt responsible for his delicate relationship with his daughter. Things were better now, so much better, but he couldn’t say it didn’t hurt when Ameila, or any of their kids, immediately reached for Emily when something was wrong. The six months they had spent alone together had formed a bond he loved, but that he was also, in his worst moments, jealous of.

He wants to argue, wants to say that eventually something would happen with one of the kids when she wasn’t there, but he knows this isn’t the time. That it can wait until it isn’t almost 4am and she has their feverish daughter pressed against her.

“It’s a good thing your boss is so understanding.”

Emily smiles at him. “Well, I do repay his understanding with blow jobs so I think it’s earned.” _________________

May 2024

Ameila was Emily through and through. It was something Aaron, and just about everyone they knew, said frequently. She looked like Emily. She had her nose, her dark eyes and hair, and the same smile that had always been able to convince Aaron to do just about anything. Amelia had inherited her fathers jawline and his seriousness, her frown, a pure ‘Hotch’ look that Penelope had often joked would serve her well in whatever she decided to do in the future.

She also had Emily’s attitude. A need to know everything, to push all the boundaries around her, that often drove Aaron to the edge of his sanity in a way neither of his sons ever had. Elizabeth often commented on how similar Amelia and Emily were, and he never missed the way she smirked at him when she said it.

Emily was fiercely protective of Amelia. Aaron knew it was because their daughter was the only one of their kids who didn’t remember the incident with Foyet. She was so small when it happened, only a few months old when her family was torn apart by the actions of a psychopath, and they were grateful for it. Jack and Theo still bore the scars of what happened, years of therapy had done them wonders, but it still surfaced at times, almost unexpectedly. Leading to Theo calling in the middle of the night, the now 21 year old plagued by nightmares that his mother was dead, only calmed down by the sound of her tired voice over the phone.

The first time Amelia really pushes the boundaries with her parents is when she comes home one day with her nose pierced. The ring in her nose was massive, big enough to allow for the swelling that would follow, drawing her parents attention to it immediately.

“What the hell is that in your nose?” Aaron asks, annoyance clear in his tone.

“It’s a nose ring, Dad.” Amelia answers, her eyes rolling as she hangs her keys up. “I got it done after school.”

“And who said you could do that?”

“It’s my nose. I didn’t realise I needed permission.”

“Ok.” Emily interrupts, placing a hand on her husband's arm to try and diffuse the situation. “I think what your dad is trying to say is that you should run this stuff past us, ok?”

Amelia scoffs. “Well it’s your nose I inherited, surely you understand why I wanted to do something to it.” She walks past her parents and goes up the stairs before the conversation can go any further. “I have homework.”

_________________

Aaron walks into their en-suite later that night to find Emily standing in front of the mirror scrutinising her appearance. He leant against the doorframe and watched as she turned her head side to side, running her finger down the slope of her nose. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at herself straight on again, her finger pressed into the tip.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him, taking her hand away from her nose as she does. He doesn’t miss the shy look on her face as she wrung her hands together. “Do you think my nose is weird?”

He frowns at her. “What? No.”

“I know it’s ridiculous. I’m 53 for fuck sake.” She mutters to herself.

He kisses the tip of her nose and she smiles at him. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.” She wraps her arms around him anyway, pulling him in for a kiss. “It will look better when she can switch to a smaller ring.”

“It will look better when she just takes it out.”

Emily laughs, shaking her head at him. “Come on, let's go to bed. Some of us have work in the morning.”

He raises an eyebrow at her as he always did when she referred to his early retirement, even though it had been years since he left the FBI. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

_________________

The casual mention of a boyfriend, a boy from Amelia’s art class called Chase, almost sends Aaron orbital. He manages to keep his opinions to himself until Amelia has gone to bed and he’s just in the kitchen with his wife, helping her with the dishes even though it was long ago established as her chore since she never cooked.

“She’s not that bad, Aaron.”

He scoffs at his wife. “She’s going to make me go grey.”

“Honey. Amelia is a teenage girl. A pretty well behaved one in comparison to what I was like.”

“Suddenly I feel a lot more sympathy for Elizabeth than I ever have before.” He mutters as he continues to put dishes away.

“What was that?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

She narrows her eyes at him as she passes him another plate, patting his cheek with her spare hand. “You’re already grey, Aaron. It’s got nothing to do with the fact our daughter has a boyfriend. Or a nose ring.” _________________

Emily finally loses her cool two weeks later. They are eating dinner, just her, Amelia and Aaron, when she spots something on her daughter's wrist as she reaches for more salad. Emily grabs Amelia’s arm and pulls her sleeve back slightly to reveal a, admittedly very small, heart tattoo onto her daughter’s wrist. It was crude, slightly wonky and clearly not a professional one.

“What the hell is this?” She asks, staring her daughter down.

Amelia tears her arm out of her mother’s grasp and pulls her sleeve back down. “It’s a tattoo, Mom.”

“A tattoo? When did that happen?” Emily looks over at Aaron, who to her annoyance looked slightly amused that she was finally reacting like he had been all along.

“We did them at school.” Amelia answers, taking another bite of her dinner.

Emily’s initial reaction of telling her daughter how dangerous that was, how stupid, was drowned out by her overriding fear of who exactly had done this. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Chase and I did them. We have matching ones.” Amelia says, looking at her mother with a challenge on her face. “I don’t see what the big deal is Mom, you have tattoos.”

Emily glares at her husband when he chokes out a laugh at that, and he quickly excuses himself from the table. She turns back to her daughter. “Amelia, it really wasn’t very safe to do that. You have to let professionals do this kind of thing.”

Amelia rolls her eyes as she takes the final bite of her dinner. “Whatever.” She gets up from the table, already half out of the dining room before she speaks again. “I need to go FaceTime Chase.”

Emily puts her head in her hands as soon as she is alone. Her daughter was too much like her for her own good, independent and wilful almost to a fault. Emily loved that Amelia was like that, that she was so sure of herself in a way that Emily certainly hadn’t been at her age. She took it as a testament to her and Aaron’s parenting, but right now she was struggling with it. She just wanted to sit Amelia down and tell her that not everyone in the world had her best intentions at heart, and Emily had an increasingly sinking feeling that Chase was one of those people.

She blows out a breath and stands up, starting to collect the dishes from the evening meal. Emily hears her husband re-enter the room. “I’m going to get her some antiseptic cream to put on it. Who the hell knows where they got the needle they did it with from.”

“Emily-”

“She gave herself a matching tattoo with her boyfriend, Aaron.” She says, putting the dishes she had been holding back down on the dining room table. “They’ve been together for 8 weeks.”

He steps towards her and places his hands on her hips. “What was it you told me last week? That it will work itself out eventually.”

“She thinks she loves him, honey.” Emily lamented, allowing her husband to pull her into his arms. “And I know he’s going to break her heart.”

Aaron kisses her. “Sweetheart, we can’t protect her from that.” He kisses her again, cupping her cheek with his hand. “All we can do is be here for her if it happens.”

Emily rests her forehead on his chest. “Now who's being annoying ok about all of this?”

_________________

“This is where I found out I was pregnant with you.” Emily says offhandedly, a wistful smile on her face. It was so long ago now, but she still remembered the joy she had felt when she first saw Amelia on screen. The baby she had always been told she couldn’t have was now this amazing person she couldn’t imagine her life without.

Emily looks at her daughter when she doesn’t get a response, and she stops herself from laughing when she sees how pointedly Amelia is ignoring her. “Oh really, Mom?” She says to herself. “That’s so interesting.”

“Mom, I cannot believe you are doing this.” Amelia seethes, looking at the floor of the clinic they were in. Embarrassment coming off of her in waves. “This is so embarrassing.”

Emily rolls her eyes, and bites back a comment about how if she found birth control embarrassing then she should think twice about having sex. “I just want you to be safe, ok? You’ve got a boyfriend now and whilst I am not exactly delighted at the idea of you having sex.” She says, not missing how her daughter grimaces. “I don’t want you to take any chances.”

“Amelia Hotchner?”

Emily and Amelia look up to see Joanne standing at the door to her office looking expectantly at them. Emily smiles at her, Amelia does not, and the latter sighs as she stands up. She takes a few steps towards Joanne, only pausing when she realises her mother isn’t following her.

“Well you may as well come in. This was your idea after all.” Amelia says, annoyance colouring her tone. Emily sees past it, spotting the way her daughter nervously wrings her hands, fingers digging at her cuticles in a way she had picked up from her.

“Of course, sweetie.” She stands and walks up to her daughter, and guides her into Joanne’s office with a gentle hand on her back.

_________________

“You did what??” Aaron asks, seething, as they get ready for bed side by side in their ensuite. He turns to her, a disbelieving look on his face.

“I took her to get birth control.” Emily answers around her toothbrush, spitting into the sink. She rinses it and places it next to his in the holder.

“Why?” He is glaring at her, and she's suddenly more glad than ever that she hadn’t broached this subject with him until after Amelia had a packet of pills sitting in her bathroom cabinet, with very explicit instructions on the importance of taking it correctly from both Emily and Joanne. “Is she sleeping with him?”

“I don’t even know if she is having sex yet. But you know these things happen. I bought the boys condoms when they were teenagers.” She purposely misses out that she had also bought Amelia condoms, thinking that admission might make her husband's head explode. “I wanted to make sure she takes precautions if she takes that step.”

“She’s 15, Emily.”

“Yeah, and so was I.” She closes her eyes and sighs, turning to look at her husband as she crosses her arms across her chest. She looks at him and bites her lip, trying to figure out what she’s been wanting to say. “Aaron, I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to her.”

Emily can see the moment it registers in his head. The way his brow unfurls, his whole body unclenching as the anger seeps out of him, replaced by concern for her. He takes a step towards her. “Sweetheart…”

She shakes her head at herself, wiping a stray tear away that had fallen at the admission. “She deserves better than that.”

He sighs as he drags her into a hug, one she gladly returns, wrapping her arms around his back. “You deserved better than that too.”

Emily buries her face into his neck, breathes in the scent of him that had comforted her for more than half her life. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” _________________

Three days later it becomes a non issue. Amelia is out with friends, and Chase, leaving Aaron and Emily with the house to themselves.

Emily is sitting in her husband's lap on their couch. His hands up her shirt and his tongue in her mouth, when she hears it. A car door slamming on edge of her consciousness, someone running up the steps of their porch. She pulls back from Aaron, the dazed look on his face surely matching the one on her own. “Did you hear that?” She breathes out.

They hear a key in the door and break apart like they’ve burnt each other, both standing as the front door opens.

Amelia bursts in, tears streaming down her face. She drops her bag at the front door, her school things abandoned in the foyer of their home, and as soon as her eyes land on Emily her face crumbles. The steady stream of tears turning into sobs. “Mom.”

“Amelia?” She closes the gap between them, concern for her daughter overriding anything else, any lingering hopes she had of alone time with her husband gone in an instant. Amelia is in her arms in seconds, clawing at her shirt to try and get as close as possible. She buries her face into Emily’s shoulder and weeps. Emily cups the back of her daughter’s head, and runs her other hand up and down her back. “Oh sweetheart, it’s ok.” She soothes. “You’ll be ok.”

Emily exchanges a concerned look with Aaron over the top of their daughter's head and she shakes her head at him slightly when he takes a step towards them, silently asking him to leave it to her. He understands, just like he always had, and leaves them to it despite wanting to know exactly what has upset Amelia this much.

“Mia, honey.” She says gently, hand still tangled in her daughter's dark hair. She tries to pull back slightly, cupping Amelia’s cheek, but she holds on to her tighter, sobs still tearing out of her throat. “Let’s move over to the couch, ok?”

Amelia nods against her but doesn’t separate herself from her mother at all. Emily carefully guides her over to the couch and sits down. Amelia curls into her, wrapping herself around her in a way she hadn’t done in years. Emily wraps her arms around her, and whispers random words of comfort into her daughter's hair.

“Sweetheart.” She says gently, pulling away enough that she can cup Amelia’s face in her hands. She wipes tears away from her cheeks with her thumbs. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, not until you’re ready, but I need to know if you’re hurt.”

Amelia shakes her head. “Not hurt.” She says, her words choked by her tears. She leans back into Emily, pressing her face into her neck.

“Ok, sweet girl.” Emily says the old nickname, one she hadn’t used since Amelia was 9 and turned her nose up at it, slipping out without thinking. She presses a kiss on her daughter's head. “I’m right here.”

It takes almost 30 minutes for Amelia to calm down, for her sobs to dissipate into sniffs and a hoarseness in her throat as she takes in ragged breaths. “He broke up with me.”

Emily frowns, holding her daughter impossibly tighter. “What?”

“Chase broke up with me.” Amelia says, pulling back so she could look at Emily properly. “He said I was boring.”

Emily covers her reaction to that, keeping her surprise away from her face. Boring was not a word she would have ever used to describe Amelia. She tucks some of Amelia’s hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry, baby. I know you really liked him.”

Amelia snuggles back down into her, sniffing as she lays her head on Emily's shoulder. Emily runs her hand through her daughter's hair, soothing her as she finishes calming down. “What do you want to do?” Emily asks. “We could get Dad to go out and get Taco Bell.”

Amelia chokes out a laugh but shakes her head. “I think I just want to go to bed.”

“Whatever you want.” _________________

Aaron is pacing their bedroom when she enters it, softly closing the door behind her. He stops and looks at her, an expectant look on his face.

“He broke up with her.” Emily says. “She is heartbroken.” She hears how her own voice breaks as she tells him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that.” She shakes her head at herself. “The worst thing is when she told me what happened I felt relieved. She’s sitting there absolutely hysterical and I’m relieved?”

Aaron closes the distance between them and hugs her. “You’re a fantastic mom, Em. I won’t let you believe anything other than that.”

She chokes out a laugh, somehow still surprised after all these years that he was able to guess what was really bothering her without her saying it outloud. “You’re a pretty great dad yourself, Mr Hotchner.” Emily lets herself relax in her husband’s embrace for a little longer, she pulls back and looks up at him. “I’m going to go in and sleep with her tonight.”

“Ok, sweetheart.” He kisses her quickly before letting her go so she can get ready for bed. He watches as she pulls on pyjama pants and a soft t-shirt that once belonged to him.

Aaron admires his wife as she takes off her makeup from the day and puts her dark hair up, smiling as he catches sight of some grey flecks that she hates as she twists it into a bun. She never believes him when he says it, but he thinks she's more beautiful now than she was when they first met all those years ago. Emily had always been beautiful, from the 22 year old she was when they first met. Teasing smiles and flirty comments as she coaxed him out to a bar with her.

Emily always lamented aging, wondering where the time had gone. More self conscious now than she had been the entire time he had known her. All he saw in lines on her face that she thought made her look old was all the laughter and joy they’d had over the years. She was softer now, her hips wider, evidence that she had given him two of their children that made him find her even more attractive. The grey flecks in her hair, that he knew she’d get dyed again soon, that showed him just how long they had loved each other.

They had been together 31 years and sometimes Aaron felt every moment of it, every single thing that had happened to them since she kissed him at one of her mother’s events. It somehow also had passed in the blink of an eye, decades gone in seconds and he was still somehow lucky enough to have her by his side.

“You’re staring.” She says, pulling him out of his thoughts with an amused look on her face and a teasing tone to her voice.

He pulls her into his arms again, kisses her cheek, then her nose. Making her laugh as she tries to squirm away from him. “You’re beautiful.”

Emily rolls her eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous.” _________________

Ameila smiles shakily at her mother as she walks into her room. Emily walks over to her bed and climbs in on the spare side, settling down for the night. She lays on her side and looks at Amelia, tucking some hair behind her ear. “How are you doing, sweetie?”

Amelia sniffs, suppressing a sarcastic laugh. “I’ve been better.” She settles into her mother’s side, resting her head on her shoulder. In the darkness of her bedroom, with Emily’s arms wrapped tightly around her, she finally feels like she can admit the truth. “It’s because I wouldn’t have sex with him.”

“What do you mean?”

Amelia closes her eyes as she catches the tone in her mother’s voice, the dangerous edge to it that she was so rarely on the receiving end of. She had only ever really overheard it when she was talking to someone about work over the phone, or one the rare occasion her parents had a full blown row, their angry voices soon turning into other noises that Amelia thanked whoever was listening for the invention of noise cancelling headphones.

“That’s why he broke up with me.” Amela says, feeling tears build back up in her eyes. “Because I wouldn’t sleep with him.”

She feels her mother’s hold on her tighten, and the sharp intake of breath that she takes beneath her head. Emily kisses the top of her head. “You’re ok, sweetheart. Go to sleep.”

Amelia drifts off to the feel of her mother stroking her hair, something she hadn’t had happen since she was younger. She was surprised to realise how much she had missed it, regret for how she had started to rebuff her mother’s affection a few years back building in her chest. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.” Another kiss to the top of her head. “Now get some sleep.”

She falls asleep, completely unaware of how Emily laid awake for hours, anger for a teenage boy she had only met once burning through her veins until she came up with a plan. _________________

Emily wakes in the morning to the sound of Amelia’s door opening. She opens her eyes to see her husband standing there, a takeout coffee holder in his hand, and an unsure look on his face.

She smiles at him as she sits up in bed and beckons him in. He switches the light on, which immediately wakes Amelia, her groans the first indication that she was up.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Aaron says kissing his wife before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Morning.” She murmurs against his lips, before lifting the coffee she knew was intended for her. Cold brew with enough sweetener in it to rot your teeth.

“You guys suck.” Amelia groans from below the comforter, voice still thick with sleep.

Emily chuckles. “I think you’ll change your mind when you see what your dad has brought you.”

Amelia lifts the comforter from off of her face and shoots up when she sees her favourite frappuccino in her fathers hands. “Dad, you are the best.” She takes a sip and moans, the sugar hitting her tongue. “No wonder Mom has put up with you so long.”

Aaron laughs, glad to see that she seemed her usual self after how devastated she had been the night before. “Are you ok, Mia?”

She smiles at her dad, a shaky thing that was always the first indicator from his wife and daughter that tears were on the horizon. “I will be.” ______________

Emily’s first thought is to set Penelope on Chase. Let her hack into his social media accounts and digitally ruin his life for upsetting her little girl. For trying to pressure her into something she didn’t want to do. She knew Penelope would do it without a second thought. She was the most trusted confidant of all of the younger Hotchner's outside of their parents. Jack had asked for her help planning his over the top proposal to his now wife. Theo had come out to her first, a nervous teenager in her office asking for help on how he could tell his parents. Amelia went to her for advice on everything from boys to elaborate hairstyles, and Penelope gently discouraged her from dying her hair bright purple when she was 13, knowing it would have given Aaron an aneurysm.

Emily was finishing getting ready for work, Amelia already on her way to school, as she started to formulate a text to her friend, a cryptic request to come see her as soon as she got to work, when Aaron snuck up on her in the kitchen.

“You can’t get Penelope to ruin his life.”

Emily jumps, cursing under her breath. “Damn it, Aaron.” She turns to look at him, a sheepish look on her face. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything of the sort.”

“Oh really?” He raises an eyebrow at her. “You weren’t thinking of having her hack all of his social media accounts and freeze his bank account?”

Emily flushes and puts her phone down on the counter. “I can’t just let him get away with it.”

Aaron smiles at her and pulls her towards him with his hands on her hips. “Baby, this is something we have to let her deal with ok?” He kisses her cheek, his smile deepening as she narrows her eyes at him. “No getting Penelope involved.”

“Fine.”

Plan B it was. _________________

Emily is never happier than when she has all of her family in her house. The boys were coming round for dinner, Jack and his wife Sara and Theo and his new boyfriend Zach, someone he had met at college. Theo texted her that morning, a list of strict instructions of things that absolutely couldn’t happen the first time Zach was meeting the family.

She had just let them in, hugging her son fiercely as he walked in and feeling love bloom in her chest when he hugged her back just as tightly, no embarrassment at giving his mother this affection in front of Zach.

She lets him go and turns to the young man standing next to her son. “You must be Zach, I’m Emily.”

He shakes her hand, a nervous smile on his face. “Nice to meet you.”

Amelia bursts into the house, slamming the front door behind her, and immediately breaks the first rule on Theo’s list. “Мама, какого хрена?”

“Не сейчас, милая. У нас гости. И не ругайся.” Emily replies, tilting her head towards where Theo and Zach were standing.

“Ты должен был подумать об этом, прежде чем угрожать моему бывшему парню!”

Zach leans in to Theo, a confused look on his face. “Are they speaking Russian?”

Theo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so, and looks at his boyfriend. “Yes.” He turns to his mother. “Ne pouvons-nous pas le faire? C'est la première fois que Zach rencontre tout le monde.”

Amelia rolls her eyes and Emily smiles at Theo. “Je suis désolé, chérie. On va bien se comporter.”

“Are you speaking French?” Zach asks, looking even more confused at the complete nonchalonce all of the Hotchner’s were showing at the multiple languages being thrown around as if it was nothing. The slight look of amusement on Aaron’s face as he walked into the room. “How many languages does your mom speak?”

Theo grabs his boyfriend's hand and leads him further into the house, away from the rest of the family. “Six. Seven if you include English.” _________________

Emily eyes Sara curiously when she turns down wine with her dinner, a small look passes between her and Jack when she asks for soda instead. Emily shares a similar look with her own husband, a look on his face saying he had spotted what she had too, and she gladly gets an alternative drink for her daughter-in-law.

Amelia sulks all the way through dinner. Rebuffing her brother’s questions about school, a glare fixed on her mother almost the entire time. It’s when she refuses her favourite dessert, cheesecake, that her brother’s interest is piqued.

“Mills.” Theo asks, amusement on his face at his sister’s behaviour. “What’s up with you?”

“Why don’t you ask Mom?” She said, pointedly looking at her mother. “Мама пытается разрушить мою жизнь, вот в чем дело.”

“I did not try and ruin your life, Amelia.” She says, rolling her eyes at her daughter's dramatics. She looks at her sons and their respective partners. “All I did was have a conversation with the boy who made Amelia cry herself to sleep a couple of days ago.”

“Yeah. By explaining that you’re a Section Chief at the FBI, whilst you had your gun and badge on display.” Amelia exclaims.

There was a moment of silence at the table before it descended into laughter, confusion all over Zach’s face on whatever he had walked into.

“Oh sweetheart.” Aaron says, looping his arm around the back of her chair to place a hand on her shoulder. “Not again.”

Amelia frowns, looking at her parents in shock. “Not again? What the hell does that mean?”

“Mom’s crazy, Millie.” Theo says, a laugh bursting out of him.

“Hey, I resent that.” Emily says, sinking back into her chair slightly, glaring at Aaron when he laughs at her and kisses the side of her head.

Jack gives Emily a look with his eyebrows raised before looking back at his sister. “My first ever girlfriend broke up with me the day before homecoming, Mom scared the absolute shit out of her by showing up at her cheerleading practise the following day. She somehow managed to mention that Dad once killed a guy with his bare hands.”

“Your dad did what?” Zach asks, leaning in to Theo who just shook his head. A silent promise that he’d explain later.

“In my defence.” Emily says, crossing her arms across her chest, a slight flush to her face. “This one was really sick at the time and I was pretty sleep deprived.” She says pointing at Amelia. “I wasn’t entirely in control of my emotions, and you were just so sad.”

“She also made me very aware of what she does for a living when Jack and I first moved in together.” Sara pipes up, nothing but amusement on her face when she looks at her mother-in-law. She turns back to Amelia. “I think it’s sweet.”

Amelia shakes her head at them all and turns to Zach. “Run whilst you still can.” __________________

Emily closes the door behind Jack and Sara as they leave, promises of getting together soon uttered in between lingering hugs.

“Mom?”

Emily turns to see Amelia standing behind her, her hands in her pockets as she avoids her mother’s gaze. It’s the calmest she’s looked all evening, any frustration she had towards her and her actions having melted away.

“Look, I’m sorry, Amelia.” She says taking a step towards her daughter. “I know I probably shouldn’t have done that. But you were so upset, and he deserved to-”

Her ranting is cut off by Amelia throwing her arms around her waist and placing her head on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Emily smiles and hugs her daughter back, kissing the top of her head as she pulls her closer. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“I always thought it would be Dad, or Theo or Jack who went after a boy for me.” She says against her mother’s shirt before she pulls away. “At least I can tell any future guys that my mom is crazy.” _________________

Emily turns to lay on her side as Aaron joins her in bed, she smiles at him and pushes some hair off of his forehead before running her blunt nails over his temples, the mix of dark and grey hair rasping as she goes. “When do you think Jack and Sara are going to tell us she’s pregnant?”

A laugh peels out of Aaron before he leans forward and kisses her, pulling back only to press his forehead against hers. “Whenever they are ready.”

Emily shifts so her back is against him and pulls his arm over her waist, sighing when he settles his chest against her. “You’d think they’d learn they can’t hide anything from us.”

He kisses the top of her head and holds her a little tighter. “We’ve got some pretty great kids.”

“We really do.”

“You have got to stop threatening anyone who hurts them though.”

“Sure, love.” She says, pulling his hand up to her lips to kiss his knuckles. “I’ll stop.”

They both know she won’t.

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 8: Forgiven

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7

---

Peter wasn't quite sure how long he lay in the warm sand, his and Mr. Stark's hands lazily entwined while the vulture lay a few feet away, webbed to a crate, but he didn't really care. For the first time in days--months, really--he felt okay. He felt calm and safe, never mind the pain in his ribs and licking at his burnt skin, they didn't matter to the teenager. He'd heal. He always did.

After a few more minutes, there was the sound of sirens. Peter propped himself up, staring at the approaching red and blue lights, his heart dropping slightly. He guessed this was it. Mr. Stark would have to deal with the plane and Peter would have to deal with Mr. Fowler. He wasn't quite sure how mad the man was going to be at him being gone for two days, but glancing down at his soulmate, he didn't particularly care. He'd get to see Mr. Stark again soon, and that was all he really needed to push himself to his feet.

Mr. Stark glanced at him, picking himself up as well and placing a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder before turning to stare at where every emergency vehicle ever was arriving.

"Guess it's time for clean up," Mr. Stark said, whistling lowly. "Happy is not gonna be too please with me."

"I'm sure you'll be able to handle him, Mr. Stark," Peter responded, fishing his mask out of the sand and shaking it out.

"Eh. I'm not super up to it. However, if I tell him I'm taking care of a sick and injured child, I might get away with it for the night."

Peter laughed. "Better find an injured child first."

"I found one." Mr. Stark wrapped a loose arm over Peter's shoulder, corralling him forward. "Don't think you're getting out of this that easily. The Medbay at the compound is waiting for your burnt behind. C'mon, let's go."

"Mr. Stark, I gotta--"

"Get to medical, correct."

"No. Mr. Fowler--"

"Has already counted you as missing for two days. Your curfew is long broken," Mr. Stark countered, moving to say something else when a shiny black car slid to a halt in front of him. More cars and vehicles followed suit. Mr. Stark gave him a smirked glance. "Might want to put that mask on if your secret identity still matters to you."

Peter slipped the mask over his face, following the man as people poured out of the vehicles. Mr. Stark stepped up to a tall man with a surly face and a tightly wound posture, practically storming over to the billionaire. His first instinct was to step in front of Mr. Stark, but the mechanic didn't tense at all, instead slipping into a slightly strained smile.

"What the hell happened here, Tony?" the man asked, glancing over at Peter in confusion.

"Criminal mastermind. He's webbed up back there," Mr. Stark said. After a tired moment, the man shook his head.

"You look half-dead. Go see an ambulance. Call Pepper. I'll take care of this."

"No can do, Happy," Mr. Stark responded, gesturing to where Peter was standing uneasily. "We're gonna head to the Medbay. I'll see you at the compound."

Happy looked ready to argue, but with one last glance at Peter, he just shook his head again. He looked like he was about to burst from the stress. "Do you need my car?"

"Mine's still running."

"Good. Call me when you get there."

"Definitely, Mama Bear. Come on, kid."

Nervously, Peter circled around Happy, following Mr. Stark quickly to where the sleek car was waiting. The engine was still running, and he guessed that Mr. Stark had left the keys in in his mad dash to get onto the beach and help him out. He blinked in slightly dazed confusion, unused to being important. To being cared for.

The sound of the car door opening distracted Peter from his thoughts, drawing his attention to where Mr. Stark had opened the back door of the vehicle. The man gestured between it and Peter.

"Well? You getting in or not?"

"Am I being demoted from shotgun?" Peter snipped, but he got in nonetheless. Surprisingly, Mr. Stark slipped in after him.

"No. We're gonna make sure you're not dying," Mr. Stark said. "Friday. To the compound."

"Of course, sir," the cool robot voice responded, and the car started off, riding easily back onto the street. Peter finally took his sandy mask back off, grimacing at the grit that had slipped into the cuts on his face and watching with a sharp eye as Mr. Stark pulled out a first aid kit from underneath the seat. It was ridiculously big and, when he opened it, ridiculously well stocked.

"Okay. Suit off, Petey-Pie, let's see what we're working with."

"Hey! I just got you back on the nicknames!" he protested. Mr. Stark fixed him with a smile.

"Your AI came up with Peter-butter. My turn. Now: Suit please."

With a tired grumble, the teenager pressed the spider on his chest and peeled the suit from his skin coated in a thin layer of blood and dried sweat. He grimaced, blushing at the sight of his thin ribs. To his credit, Mr. Stark didn't say anything, didn't even stare at how gaunt he was, just poured some rubbing alcohol on a cloth and went for the nearest wound on Peter's chest.

He held back a pained hiss at the sting.

"Hold that in place," Mr. Stark ordered. Peter placed his own hand over where the cloth was, and Mr. Stark returned to grabbing more materials for more wounds. "Rate your pain. One to ten."

"Six."

"An eight, then."

"No one asked you, Doctor Stark." Mr. Stark glanced up at him from where he was wiping at a bloody slash on his shoulder, his eyes flashing. The teenager didn't notice that it was in humor and not in anger. Peter lowered his eyes, stomach churning and swallowing nervously. He had to force in a breath, remembering that the hand on his shoulder was gentle and friendly. Not Mr. Fowler. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Pete. You saved a lot of lives tonight. Saved my ass, too. Make fun of me as much as you want."

"Really?"

"This deal is limited. You have an hour."

"That's unfair!" Peter protested.

"Tough luck."

"But--" He was cut off by a hiss of pain as the car hit a bump in the road, jostling his bruised body. His ribs felt like shit now that the adrenaline was rubbing off. He couldn't remember being in this much pain, and it was all the teenager could do to blink back tears as his entire body burned.

"Drive carefully please, Friday," Mr. Stark called. "Are your ribs okay?"

Peter shrugged. "They'll heal. They always do."

"See, that's not really good enough for me. Friday'll scan you when we get to the compound and make sure all your organs weren't squished. We're not going to deal with internal bleeding."

Peter nodded dumbly, the world feeling like it was coming to a crashing halt around him. He so desperately want to lay down, to sleep and forget about Mr. Fowler or the group home and how badly he didn't want for Mr. Stark to go. But he didn't voice any of it, instead staying ramrod straight as Mr. Stark wrapped bandages around his shoulder and chest, the man mumbling about pain medicine that probably wouldn't work while Peter stared out the window with a tired blink.

After a few minutes, he mumbled, "How are we going to explain this to Mr. Fowler?"

Mr. Stark paused, glancing up at him before turning back to wrapping a thick layer of bandages around his chest. They were already turning a little red, but Peter wasn't worried, sure that they would stop soon. After a moment, the man patted the bandages into place and sat back in his seat with a tired sigh.

"See, I'm not really thinking we should."

Peter's neck cricked with how fast his head turned to look at the man from where he'd been shrugging on the tattered MIT hoodie, his eyes widening. "What? No--Mr. Stark I have to tell him something. I can't just--"

"You can't just go back to him, Peter."

His heart felt like it skipped a beat, his eyes narrowing defensively.

"...What? Mr. Stark, what the hell are you talking about?"

The man's finger thrummed against his thigh, brows furrowing as he clearly thought about what to say next. After nearly a minute, he turned back to Peter. "Kid...Fowler didn't file a missing person's report."

"...And?"

"And?" Mr. Stark repeated incredulously, "Pete, you've been missing for two days. With no reports to the police. No sort of search party or notifications that you're not okay. Nothing to keep you safe. And foster parents especially are expected to be on top of this kind of thing."

Peter stared at the man in confusion, stuffing his hands in the torn hoodie nervously. He shrugged nonchalantly, fumbling desperately for an excuse that didn't sound like shit. "Mr. Fowler's just--he probably didn't want to freak all the other kids out and--"

"Peter."

His jaw clamped shut with an audible click. Mr. Stark sighed, rubbing at his forehead.

"Look... My dad--my dad wasn't the best. He was mean and constantly disapproving, and he hit me when he was mad. I thought it was pretty normal growing up--not that I liked it in the slightest--but I was used to it. It was just what I expected." Mr. Stark paused, holding Peter's teary stare. "But that didn't mean it wasn't wrong. Adults should never hit a kid. Ever."

Peter tore his gaze away from Mr. Stark, staring at the seat back in front of him. He stuttered, "Mr. Fowler--he doesn't--he's never--"

"He took your card," Mr. Stark cut off gently. "He bought alcohol. A lot of it. I'm sure the following nights weren't very pleasant--believe me, I would know. And, I hate to tell you this, but you're thinner than a twig and jumpier than a grasshopper. And don't tell me that it's your superpowers, I know it's more than that. Kid, he's a bad foster parent, and you deserve better."

The teenager was silent for a solid minute, avoiding Mr. Stark's gaze as a feeling of frustrated helplessness bubbled up under his skin, threatening to spill from his eyes. He swallowed, wishing desperately he could curl his knees up to his stomach and hide himself in a ball underneath the red and torn hoodie.

"I don't, really. It's my fault I'm in foster care in the first place, and I was in a nicer home before I got sent to Mr. Fowler. They caught me sneaking out to patrol and I got sent away, so. Really it's just karma or whatever."

"Karma shmarma," Mr. Stark snapped. "You. Deserve. Better."

Those words didn't make sense, not to Peter. Why should he deserve better? Why should he be allowed to go on living comfortably and happily while May and Ben were in a place so dark their shadows no longer existed? It'd been his fault, and no one else's. If he'd just paid better attention. If he hadn't been so selfish. If he hadn't been so mad.

No. He didn't deserve better. Mr. Fowler had become exactly what Peter deserved. This guilt was exactly what Peter deserved. It bubbled underneath his skin, angry and hot and painful. Peter grit his teeth as regret reared its ugly head.

"It doesn't matter!" the teenager shouted. Mr. Stark stared at him in surprise, eyes dark. There was a silence following his outburst, stiflingly uncomfortable. The anger left him immediately, leaving him slumped against the sleep with a stressed sigh. "It doesn't matter... He can put whatever he wants in my file, he already has. He has everything he needs to ship me out of the state the next time I fuck up. Which might be now, to be honest."

The thought appeared the moment he said it. Peter didn't want to go to Jersey. He didn't want to leave New York, full of memories, both good and bad. Memories of dark nights and memories of comforting shadows. It was enough for a single tear to slip through his defense.

There was silence. Tiring and stifling and awkward.

There was a hand through his hair. Soft and gentle and soothing.

Peter leaned in unconsciously, turning the look at Mr. Stark through his flopped curls. The man had shifted to sit closer to him, brown eyes sad and tired and horribly heavy.

"You deserve better, Peter," he repeated, not an ounce of hesitation about him. "Whatever happened that made you think you deserve to live with a man who hurts you, it wasn't bad enough. Nothing ever could be. Because you're a good person, and good people make mistakes. They always do."

Peter shrugged. "Mr. Fowler can still do whatever he wants. He's my guardian."

Mr. Stark pressed his chin into Peter's messy hair. He could practically feel the mechanic thinking, solving a puzzle. A bit of his snappiness returned, the Tony Stark persona flaring up.

"I'll fix it."

"But--"

"I'll fix it. Just let me help, Pete."

"...Okay," he said after a moment, just desperate to let his eyes slip close. Desperate to forget. Mr. Stark tapped his cheek as his eyelashes fluttered close.

"Thank you for trusting me, but no sleeping. Just in case you have a concussion."

Peter groaned in annoyance, but he continued to slump against his soulmate's shoulder, lazily tracing the way their shadows flickered. He liked it better when they were normal, when he had Mr. Stark's shadow, but Mr. Stark's arm against his own was good enough that he could live with it until they got to the compound.

 ---

Tony kept a steadying hand on Peter's shoulder as they stumbled out of the Medbay together. The kid looked dead on his feet, ready to pass out on the nearest soft surface, but Tony needed to set just a few more things in motion.

Friday's scans in the Medbay hadn't revealed anything new or horribly life threatening, just a few cracked ribs and broken bones healing rapidly. The mechanic had splinted what he could and given the kid more wraps before declaring him fit to head over to the Avengers common hall. Tony himself was resisting a heavy limp, grimacing with every painful step, but he hadn't broken any bones and there were about a million things to do before he could get some bedrest.

The door to the Avengers hall slid open for the two as they approached, revealing the shiny and empty living room and kitchen. Always empty. He pushed the thought down with a tired swallow, giving Peter's shoulder a pat and leading him forward with a forced excitement.

"You're going to love it here," he started, rambling. "It's really nice. Watch out for Vision though when you meet him, he has a problem with walls. Here, sit down on the couch right here, I'll be right back."

Peter plopped down on the leather cushions, doe eyes following Tony in complete exhaustion as he walked away. Tony stepped over to the fridge, opening it and roaming over the food inside. He frowned. It was fresh, but most of it was basic ingredients and produce for bigger meals. Spinach, peppers, raw meat, hunks of cheese. Overall, nothing that would help the teen right now, save for a large carton of juice that he grabbed.

He closed the fridge, opening the pantry instead and pulling out bags of cookies, pretzels, and a random bag of obnoxiously healthy vegetable chips. His arms full, he tapped the door closed with his foot and headed back over to Peter on the couch, setting all the snacks next to him. Peter stared at it for a second, eyes heavy.

"Eat up. I know you're falling asleep on your feet, but you need calories to heal. So eat, sleep, hang out, and when I get back everything will be fine. Okay?"

There was that doubt again, lingering in Peter’s dark brown eyes. A tired reluctance that Tony remembered in his own eyes when he’d finally escaped home.

But then Peter’s eyes brightened when they clicked with Tony’s own. A sliver of trust.

There was a ghost of a smile on the kid’s face.

"Okay, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled, ruffling Peter's hair. "Friday will lead you to a room when you're done eating. I'll see you later, kiddo."

As Tony walked away and towards his unused room in the compound, the corners of his mouth tugged, able to faintly make out the opening music to Star Wars.

  ---

Tony arrived at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys while it was still dark, his torn and dirty suit replaced with a sharp blazer and a matching pair of slacks thrown over a random graphic tee he'd grabbed. Once he'd popped a few painkillers and made a few calls with Pepper and his lawyers, the man had grabbed a pair of car keys and left, but not before checking on Peter once more to find the kid already fast asleep. He'd draped a blanket over him as softly as possible and walked out the door.

Peter's tired face has stuck in his mind as he'd driven over. The sharpness of the cuts healing on his thin cheeks, the faint smattering of freckles and the curly hair dripping onto his forehead. The thought of anyone being okay with hurting that kid was dangerous in his mind. The Vulture, or, Adrian Toomes, as Happy had sent him, was already being dealt with, but Andrew Fowler had yet to face the consequences of his actions. And Tony didn't want to leave the other kids in his care for one more second.

Not even bothering the lock the door, Tony stepped out of the car and up the steps of the building. He rapped on the door furiously, his anger kneading into the wood. The number on the front trembled.

Tony knocked two more times before there was finally an answer. The door swung open, revealing the stale stench of beer and a grumbled man. His pale eyes widened only slightly at the sight of the billionaire in front of him before resetting to their original uncaring position. The man took a swig of the beer in his hand.

"What are you doing here? The brat hasn't been here in a couple of days."

Tony narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw and resisting the urge to smack the bottle out of the man's hand. "You know I'm here for Peter?"

"Kid receives a mysterious letter with the initials 'TS' on it and the best excuse he can come up with is a school sponsored pen pal named Tony Smart? I'm not an idiot."

"I would beg to differ on that, but a let's agree to disagree and all that, shall we? I've got bigger fish to fry."

"Look, as long as I get a cut of the kid's pay, you can keep him as long as you want."

Tony paused from where he was pulling a folded up piece of paper out of his blazer, his eyes flashing and his stomaching sinking with an icy hatred. "Pay?"

"That shiny card must be part of his pay, right? Though I thought a sugar baby of yours would get more than three hundred dollars."

This time, Tony couldn't help himself from knocking the beer out of Fowler's hand. It smashed against the doorway into a thousand pieces, like the mechanic wished he could do to the man. Fowler opened his mouth to shout a protest, but Tony beat him to it. With an angry step forward and a dramatic flash of the papers hiding in his jacket, he cornered the man.

"You're disgusting. That is a child, that you were just willing to, what--pimp out?"

"Jeez, fine. Don't get your panties in a twist," Fowler said, but there was a drunken and fearful wobble in his voice. Still, he demanded, "You owe me a new beer."

"No. I owe you these."

Tony shoved the papers into the man's hands. Fowler spluttered in protest, but took them anyway with fumbling hands, squinting down at the paper. There was a hungry interest slowly replaced by confusion and then destroyed by horror.

"What the hell is this?" Fowler demanded. Tony managed a vengeful smile.

"A warrant and a signed court order," Tony said icily. "All of the children here will be placed in new homes and you will be placed in custody."

"You can't do that!"

"I think you'll find that I can. And I did. You did commit credit card theft after all. And being me did help. Just a little."

"I can--I have rights!"

"Oh, yes. I am arresting you. I guess I should read you your Miranda Rights, huh?" He cleared his throat. "You have the right to remain silent--and I would prefer if you did--anything you say may be used against you in a court of--"

"Shut up!" the man panted, clearly panicked. Tony let out a low whistle, not ashamed in the slightest to say that he was enjoying the way this man squirmed and sweat and fumbled.

"Well, now I have to start over. Legally, I do have to tell you this. Then again, I don't have any cuffs on me so I guess an NYPD officer could read them to you if you'd prefer."

"I can--this is fabricated! Whatever that kid told you, he's lying!" When Tony glared, a no nonsense stare of harsh anger lining his face, Fowler stumbled for a different approach. "I'll sue!! I can accuse you of shit too, Stark."

"I'm sure you can try," Tony said softly. "In fact, I invite you to try. Have fun with it. But know this--you messed with my shadow, and I don't take too lightly to people who do that."

"Your--"

Fowler was interrupted by the wailing of sirens. Tony straightened, pulling on his blazer. "Ah, that must be the police. I hope you have a good lawyer, though I'm sure they won't be better than any of mine. And--oh! Rot in hell if you would, please."

Tony patted the man on the shoulder just a little too harshly.

The billionaire left as soon as he could, but not before collected the belongings of Peter's left behind and doing his best to assure the frightened kids at the house that everything was going to be okay for them. That it was going to be better.

Everything was going to get better. Tony was sure of it.

  ---

  When Peter woke up, it was to quiet murmuring and the rifling of papers. He tensed immediately, his brain autopiloting to Mr. Fowler rifling through the morning mail, realizing horribly that he must have fallen asleep downstairs and--

"--all the paperwork's been filed," a low voice said, interrupting the teenager's panicked thoughts. "It's just waiting for the kid's signature."

Kid? Oh. Him. Peter was the kid, and Mr. Stark was the voice, the one mumbling about papers nearby. Peter kept his eyes closed, evening out his breaths as he tried dimly to remember what was happening.

It struck him without much effort that he was at the Avengers Compound, healing after having been kidnapped and then fighting the Vulture. He must have fallen asleep on the couch Mr. Stark had led him to, and judging by the soft warmth wrapped around him, someone had draped a blanket around the wounded boy. There was a dull pain that throbbed throughout his body, but it was easy to tell that most of his injuries were well on their way to being healed. The teenager guessed that all the bandages could be removed by midday. He wondered if he'd be removing them at the compound or if he'd already be back at the group home.

"Tones," came another mumbled voice, clearly doubtful and stressed. "Are you sure you're ready for this? I mean, I know he's your soulmate, but this is more than hanging out with or mentoring a kid. This is raising one."

Peter couldn't help the shock that made him tense and forced his eyes open. Thankfully, the two people talking were away from the couch and in the kitchen, unable to witness his small freak out. Raising? What the fuck???

Mr. Stark sighed, short and hot.

"I know, Rhodey, I know. The thing is, I could let him be placed back into the system, make sure he has a good home and let that be it, but I just... I mean, just looking at him is enough to tell me that that's the wrong move. I don't know what it is, but I see his face and I just--I just want to make sure he's okay. I want to keep him safe. It's--I don't know--it's like..."

"Like you were meant to be there?"

"Like I was made to protect him."

Peter flushed, fingers clenching around the blanket as he stared at his shadow, fixated on the tall shoulders and fluffy hair. He felt like he was choking on his own tongue, trying desperately to not say anything as he chewed on his cheek nervously.

"Maybe I was," Mr. Stark mused. "We still don't know why soulmates are soulmates anyway."

"Maybe," Colonel Rhodes responded. "If you believe in a higher purpose and whatnot."

"I don't. Usually. But for this, I think I do."

"I guess that all that's left is making sure Peter thinks you were made for it too."

"Yeah," Mr. Stark said. "Is it weird to be nervous? Like, this nervous? I've already sweat through my shirt."

Colonel Rhodes laughed. "I'll see you later, Tony. Good luck."

"Where are you going?"

"To put out fires for everything that happened last night. It happened right on Coney Island, Tones, every reporter in the city was there within ten minutes."

"Yikes. Hope you have fun, honey bear."

"You're an asshole."

"Love you too," Mr. Stark cooed. There was the sound of an elevator closing, and then it was just him and Mr. Stark. Peter wasn't sure whether to continue to pretend sleeping or not, not that he was sure he'd be able to properly fake it if Mr. Stark came over and looked up at him. He was practically frozen, stiff as a stick and staring ahead of him at his shadow with a fixed gaze.

Peter bit at his lip as he listened to Mr. Stark as he began to move around the kitchen, willing himself to sink into the cushions, relaxing with the clattering sounds of movement. He tuned into the notes of activity, listening intently as the billionaire softly clanged a pan on the stove, eggs cracked and cheese grated. There was the sizzle of cooking and the perfume of comfort. The teenager's mouth watered unwillingly at the smell of a hot breakfast.

So, of course, it was the grumble of his stomach that gave him away.

Peter winced at the loud noise, only worsened by the stifling of movement in the room for a long moment before it finally returned. He thought that maybe he'd gotten away with being awake when Mr. Stark called, "You up, kiddie?"

Seeing no point in lying, Peter pushed the blanket off of himself and peeked his head up over the back of the couch. Mr. Stark caught his eye immediately, overlooking the room from the stove in the kitchen area. The man smiled at him, and Peter tried for a small one back. It was weak, and he knew it. Mr. Stark probably knew it too.

"How're you feeling, Pete?" Mr. Stark asked.

"Ah, fine, fine," Peter said, getting off of the couch and stumbling over sleepily. After a moment of hesitation, he sat on a stool beside the kitchen counter, peeking over the polished marble to catch a glimpse of what Mr. Stark was cooking, pointedly ignoring the stack of papers on the other countertop. He was pretty sure that he was making an omelet. Just to double check, he asked, "Whatcha making?"

"Breakfast," Mr. Stark answered. So, not that helpful, but Peter didn't push. Instead, the teenager tried to sit back and make his shoulders relax. "We should check your bandages after we eat, okay?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, sure. That's good. Real good."

"And...I have something I want to talk to you about."

Peter couldn't help the way he froze, tensing so tightly he could probably make diamonds. Terrorizing anxiety coursed through the teenager in a way that he hated with every fiber of his being. He didn't know why he was freaking out so bad, why he felt like his soul was about to leave his body and take every rational thought with it.

"Yeah. Sure, sure. Okay," he managed to say. Mr. Stark gave him a look, but thankfully didn't pry, instead grabbing a spatula and tediously flipping the bright yellow omelet. Once that was finished cooking, Mr. Stark placed it on a plate a little messily and handed it to Peter along with a tall glass of orange juice. He thanked the mechanic quietly, quickly moving to eat the food.

Mr. Stark grabbed a piece of toast with jam on it and sat on a stool next to Peter. The two sat in tired silence while they ate, nothing breaking the lull save for the slight chewing of food and scraping of utensils. Mr. Stark finished his piece of toast before Peter finished his omelet, but only barely as the teenager polished it off ravenously. He could tell that Mr. Stark was anxious to get to that talk, but the man allowed for him to finish his glass of orange juice before beginning to talk again.

"So," Mr. Stark started, tapping on the counter nervously. Peter watched him anxiously as the man stepped off the stool, continuing to talk as he walked into the kitchen. "How much of our conversation do you remember while you were concussed last night?"

"Ah, most of it. I think," Peter said.

"Do you remember when I told you you couldn't go back to Fowler? And that I'd fix it?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah..."

"Well, I've got a solution." Mr. Stark stopped, his back to Peter, in front of where the stack of papers had been sitting. There was a moment of silent hesitation before the man picked it up, turning back around to face the teenager. "It's--if you don't like it, I can figure something else out, it's all up to you. But I'm completely willing to become your legal guardian."

Peter just stared, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Shock overtook his bruised body, leaving him a restless shell that was reduced to do nothing but stare. Mr. Stark hurried on in a slight panic.

"Of course, nothing's been finalized. My topnotch lawyers and the pulling of a couple of strings got me these" he gestured to the papers, "pretty quickly. They've all been notarized and signed, but nothing's official until you agree. It's your choice, kid."

Swallowing felt like the hardest thing he'd ever done as the teenager tried desperately to reset his glitching brain.

"My... You're going to be my guardian?" was all that he could say. It came out as a squeak, barely audible even to his ears.

Mr. Stark nodded. "Only if you're okay with it."

Peter could only gape at him for a moment before sputtering, "Wha--I don't-I don't---are you okay with it??"

Mr. Stark's face, contorted into confusion and slight apprehension, relaxed as the teenager finally managed to spit out his confusedly stuttered question. The smile that appeared was a little tired, a little exasperated, but no less warm.

"I'm five thousand percent okay with it," the man said. "I've never been more okay with anything in my life."

Peter stared up at him, swallowing forcefully. He wanted to say yes, to agree and finally be safe and okay, but hope was something hard to hold onto. This kind of trusting optimism, it was horribly unfamiliar to the teenager. It had been months since a hand on his shoulder had meant the friendly guidance of a caring parent rather than the controlling demand of Mr. Fowler. Since hugs had been constant and loving and Peter hadn't had to wonder about his place or his next meal. All those months had festered up so easily, and even the thought of trusting that everything would be okay with Mr. Stark was daring.

"Are you sure? Like, really sure? Because, I know-I know I can cause a lot of trouble and I still want to stay at my school in Queens and--"

"Then we'll stay in Queens," Mr. Stark interrupted. "And I'll keep up with you and your 'trouble.' I want to. I want to take care of you." When Peter was silent, Mr. Stark chewed at his cheek and then started, "You know what they say about soulmates? And their purpose?"

"That depends on who you ask, Mr. Stark," Peter managed to mutter. Mr. Stark huffed a laugh.

"Fine. What's the oldest, craziest, old wive-i-est tale about soulmates and destiny you can think of?"

Peter thought for a moment, searching in his mind desperately for what his Aunt and Uncle had used to tell him whenever he'd asked about soulmates. About when he'd meet his shadow and what it would be like.

"That souls were attached to each other for a reason?" he suggested with a shrug. "I don't know. Aunt May used to say that we were part of the same soul, but Uncle Ben wouldn't hear a word against soulmates being different souls that were, like, perfectly matched to support each other. He believed more in the destiny part."

Mr. Stark smiled.

"They sound like they knew what they were talking about."

Peter nodded, rubbing at his nose and sniffing tearfully, "Yeah. Yeah, they were pretty great."

"Well, I've never been one for the whole destiny thing, but I can't deny what it feels like to be around my soulmate. Like a purpose just dropped on my doorstep. Which is how I know that I'm more sure than sure that I want to take care of you."

"You think that that's your purpose?"

It sounded ludicrous to the teenager's ears. This was Tony Stark. Iron Man. He saved lives and the world and he'd fought aliens. He provided affordable and clean energy for the world. He ended wars and funded charities and he was important. And Peter...Peter was just himself.

"I know it is."

Peter let that sit, eyes glancing for a moment. Something finally clicked. After what felt like years and no time at all he choked out a teary, "Yeah. Yeah, I wanna stay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Suddenly Mr. Stark was by his side, a hand draped over his shoulder and his chin pressed into the boy's hair. Peter couldn't help the tears then, silent and staining his cheeks a flushed red. He sniffled with the relieved tears, his nose beginning to run. Mr. Stark only wrapped him in a tighter hug, soothing circles rubbed into the teen's bony back.

"It's okay, Peter. I've got you."

  ---

  After Peter signed the papers, Tony had broken out two specially ordered cupcakes, his heart practically cracking in two at the way the teenager's eyes had lit up with unbelievable excitement. The mechanic had expected for the kid to gobble up the dessert in less than a second flat, but instead, Peter savored it slowly, as if afraid that it would disappear if he took his eyes off of it.

Peter later admitted the truth about mealtimes at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys. The same meals every day (cereal for breakfast, PB&J's for lunch and dinner). One snack. No sweets.

No wonder the kid was nothing but skin and bones.

Tony kept Peter in the compound for another few days after the Vulture incident, putting out fires and making sure the kid, and himself, had both fully healed. As well as narrowing down some apartments in Queens. He and Pepper had already been picking between them for days beforehand anyway, so he'd taken the last options to Peter, not that the kid had really voiced an opinion.

Tony ended up going with the most expensive one. They moved in after three days in the compound. A small suitcase filled with Peter's meager belongings that Happy had recovered from the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys was the only thing the kid ended up bringing with him. If Tony had to guess, he would say that the teenager had maybe three pairs of clothes.

The kid kept huddled next to him, painfully close the entire time as Tony swiped the card to the building, as they walked through the lobby and into the elevator, and when they finally walked through the door. Not that he minded in the slightest, enjoying the bewildered look on Peter's face as they stepped into the apartment. There was still plenty of unboxing to do and furniture to move around, with Pepper's supervision of course, but the teenager was clearly losing his mind with the high-rise.

"Whoa..." Peter muttered under his breath. Tony hummed in agreement.

"Pretty nice, right? Of course, Friday hasn't been installed yet, and there's a few changes to be made, but I think this is good."

"Changes?"

"This building didn't come pre-stocked with a state of the art lab, y'know. I was thinking about transforming the floor below."

"This apartment has three floors?" Peter asked, his eyes widening as he turned away from the glass stairs leading up to where Tony was pretty sure a couple of bedrooms were.

"No, just two. I bought the building."

"You... What?"

"I bought the building," Tony repeated offhandedly, moving to explore the new kitchen. "We still have neighbors downstairs, of course, but I wasn't about to have a landlord tell me what to do. Besides, better for insurance."

"I don't like that that's what you're concerned about," entered a new voice. Tony turned and smiled brightly at the sight of his girlfriend stepping into the apartment. She was clearly tired from all the fallout from the plane crashing, but she held a genuine smile on her face nonetheless.

"Pep!" Tony called. "You're just in time to unpack."

Pepper rolled her eyes at him, instead turning to greet Peter, who was staring at the woman like she was God herself. When she held out a hand, it took Peter a few moments to fumble out a response and shake her hand.

"Hi--hello, Ms. Potts," the kid stuttered. "I'm--I'm Peter."

"Hi, Peter. You can call me Pepper."

"Okay. Pepper."

Tony made a buzzer noise. "Excuse me? I'm still Mr. Stark? Who's your soulmate here?"

"That's your name, Mr. Stark," Peter smiled. Tony ruffled his hair as embarrassingly as possible.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Peter-butter."

If looks could kill, he would say that Peter was trying to kill him. However, the flushed cheeks and baby doe eyes did nothing but make Tony's heart wiggle in amusement and Pepper stifle an coo.

"Stop terrorizing the kid," Pepper reprimanded. "Especially when we've got work to do. Once Peter's stuff gets here we can begin moving that into you room, but for now we'll work on the main area."

"Oh, uh, my stuff is here, Ms. Potts," Peter mumbled. Eyes strayed to the beaten up bag. Tony and Pepper exchanged a glance.

"New plan," Tony announced. "Online shopping. C'mon."

"But--"

"Nope," Pepper cut across. "You're a part of the family now, Peter. We get to splurge on gifts."

Together, the two grabbed Peter's arms, leading him over to the steadiest pile of boxes and sitting down. Tony pulled out his phone and placed it in front of Peter, who didn't even touch the phone now balanced on his leg, just stared at it in confusion.

"I--what?"

Making a face, the mechanic tapped Peter's head. "C'mon, Petey-Pie. You know how to work a phone. Whadda ya want first?"

"I don't--I don't know? I don't really care."

Tony glanced over at Pepper once more, a little bit at a loss. He would be lying if he said he knew exactly how to connect with Peter. He felt like he'd been doing a good job thus far, but not everything made sense to him about their relationship, and a teenager given basically an infinite amount of resources to get whatever he wanted and wanting nothing was confusing him more than anything ever had.

With a look that clearly said, 'Let me take the lead,' Pepper picked up the phone, drawing Peter's attention.

"How about we just start simple? We'll start on your room now, and then go shopping later for clothes, okay?"

"O-okay," Peter mumbled. Tony gave him a comforting pat on the back.

"Great," Pepper said. "What kind of bed do you want? Queen? King? Bunk bed?"

"Bunk bed," Peter said after a moment.

"Great. What sheets?" Tony asked. Peter shrugged, but Tony shook him playfully. "C'mon, my little shadow. I know you're a nerd deep down, and on the surface too. What sheets do your geeky little teenager heart desire?"

"Star Wars?"

"Star Wars it is," Pepper declared.

Peter smiled, his cheeks cherry red. Tony grinned. Now they were getting somewhere.

    Ten Months Later

    "Boss, Mr. Parker is back."

Tony glanced up from where he was working in the lab, looking away from his newest project to smile brightly at the ceiling. He stood up, wiping his oily hands off on his equally oily pants, finally conceding to grab a cloth and rub the slick grease from his fingers. The mechanic gave the new project one last glance before throwing the cloth down on the nearest table and stepping toward the elevator.

"Great. Tell him I'm on my--"

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Tony turned, a confused expression turning into a small smile as he caught sight of the red and blue figure stuck on the window, waving at the mechanic in excitement. He rolled his eyes, walking over and undoing the latch on the window to let the teenager finally at a healthy weight roll into the room.

"I'm gonna start putting bug spray around the apartment until you learn to use a door," Tony warned. Peter pulled his mask off, revealing hair pulled down by sweat and a bright smile. They grew brighter and brighter every day. The teenager rammed a shoulder into Tony's playfully.

"Why can't a window be a door?"

"Because it's a window."

"Old houses in the south used to be able to transform between windows and doors to evade taxes."

Tony considered him. "How do you know this?"

"Decathlon."

Tony rolled his eyes, unsure of how he hadn't guessed that. He was going to the kid's competition next week for heaven's sake!

"Well, this is not the old south. We use doors here."

"That's less fun."

"Yeah, yeah. Go wash up for dinner."

"But it's barely five! I was going to go out again."

"Should've thought about that earlier," Tony teased. "It's family dinner night. And don't you have an essay due?"

Peter mumbled, but listened nonetheless, beginning to pad away towards the elevator to go up to their apartment suite, when there was the ringing of an oncoming call. Both of their heads turned as a screen popped up, displaying an unknown number, untraceable too. Tony and Peter exchanged raised eyebrows as the kid walked back over.

"What is this, Fri?"

"It is an incoming call from the phone Captain Rogers sent you."

Peter glanced between him and the screen warily. "That means there's a problem, doesn't it?"

"Probably," Tony admitted.

He turned to the kid, patting the kid's back and fixing him with a steady stare. Peter's doe eyes attached to his, trusting in a way that had been growing exponentially recently. Tony hadn't known it was possible to look at someone with that much trust. That much love. Especially from a kid whose first interaction with Tony had ended up in him running away, but life had become steadily calm, steadily trusting, as the days had gone by. As the months had. A few bumps in the road and a couple of mishaps, some bigger than others along the way, but good nonetheless. Yeah, life was good.

Tony liked to think he was right most of the time, but even he knew he was pretty hit or miss on how to remain any kind of relationship. But this--Tony knew he'd been right. His purpose was to protect Peter. And he loved every second of it.

"But if it is, I'll keep you safe. We'll fix it together."

Peter's lips tugged in a trusting smile. He held out a fist. "Together. MacaTony--"

Tony returned the fist bump lightly with a roll of his eyes, grinning as he caught sight of their shadows switching, "--And Peter-butter."

Whatever Steve was calling for, neither would be going in alone. They were never alone.

Their shadows made sure of it.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7

@annabanannabeth​

[star-spangled-steve]

His New Partner

Chapter 46: The Inevitable

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 2005

Warnings: Angst, death, tears, some fluff near the end, pregnancy, light cussing.

A/N: Yes, I’m back! I know that it’s been so, so long since I last updated and I’m very sorry for that. To be completely honest, this pandemic has been so draining and I just haven’t had the drive to write. But I finally buckled down and finished this chapter, and I’m hoping to get the rest of this series finished relatively quickly!

All morning Y/N had been worried sick about Steve. Yes, of course she was used to her husband partaking in tons of dangerous battles here and there, but time travel was a whole different ordeal.

She was walking through the halls of the Avengers Compound, having just arrived several minutes prior. She knew that Steve would call her as soon as he got back safely, it had been his promise to her. But Y/N was just too worried about him and decided to meet him face to face. As well as her other Avenger friends.

Y/N turned a corner and saw Steve already walking her way, a huge smile instantly breaking out on her face. She immediately ran as fast as she could, pregnancy belly in mind, to her other half.

“Steve.” She sighed in relief into his shoulder as soon as she embraced him.

He wrapped his arms around her in what he hoped was a comforting manner, but at this point he didn’t exactly know what to do at all.

“Oh, goodness. Thank God you’re okay.” Y/N told him tearfully. “I was worried sick about you.” She sniffled as she slightly pulled away. “Your poor face.”

All Steve could do was shrug as she lightly stroked the red mark on his cheek.

“And... wow, where did you get this?” She said as she patted his green Army uniform. “It’s pretty nice... pretty sexy actua-”

“Y/N.” Steve interrupted her, not being able to ignore the weight of what he had just found out.

His wife looked up at him, noticing how serious he suddenly was. “Yeah?”

Steve internally contemplated what the best way to break the news to her would be, and grabbed her right hand. “Follow me.”

Y/N, more confused than she was before, obediently followed him into one of the nearby office rooms. It was vacant, as everything was these days.

“Sit down.” He told her before doing the same, rolling his chair right up close to hers so that their knees were touching. “Okay, sweetheart, I need to tell you something very important. But I need you to promise me that no matter what, you will stay as calm as possible.” He evenly spoke to her.

“Okay, Steve, you’re really scaring me right now.”

“Y/N, I need you to promise me. Okay? Too much stress on the baby is not good and you know that.” He said, grabbing both of her hands in his.

“Yes, I promise, Steve. And I know.” She insisted, giving his hands a comforting squeeze. “Just tell me, please.”

The man took a deep breath before just letting it out. “Natasha didn’t make it back.”

Y/N shook her head confusedly. “Wait, what? Wha-Where is she? Can you go back and get her?” The woman spoke frantically, her breaths beginning to get laboured. This was her best friend that they were talking about.

Steve could see the tears in Y/N’s eyes, triggering his own.

“Y/N, she’s dead.” He choked out. “She sacrificed herself.”

“What? No. No, no, no, she can’t be dead.” The woman started to bawl, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “Steve.”

“I know. I know it’s hard, doll.” He told her as he stood up them up together, his heart breaking even more at how utterly devastated she looked. “C’mere.”

Y/N crashed into his chest, still mindful of her growing stomach. Steve’s arms wrapped around her shaking form as he slowly rocked their bodies back and forth, trying and calm her down in any way he could.

Memories of Natasha swarmed through both of their minds. Memories of how she was always there when they needed her, memories of how genuinely good of a person she was.

Y/N’s heavy sobs were a contrast to Steve’s silent tears.

“Shh, shh. Darling, you have to stay a little bit more calm. For the baby, okay?” The man cooed into her hair.

The man felt her nod against him before he slightly pulled back, cradling Y/N’s face in his hands.

“Nat sacrificed herself for half of the universe. Okay? She did this so we could bring everybody back. She knew exactly what she was doing.” He tried to comfort her.

“She’s a hero.” Y/N stated, sniffling.

“Damn right.” Steve nodded before pulling his wife back into his chest. “And we’re going to make her proud, baby.” He stated while stroking her hair. “I’ll make sure of it.”

*****

Y/N giggled as she looked down at her little boy playing with his blocks, trying to build a little tower out of them. She knew that she was never crazy for keeping all of his things, despite what the people around of her said. She knew that she was never crazy for having faith that baby Anthony James would return.

She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that he was right there in front of her after all of those years of mourning. So many sleepless nights, bawling her eyes out into her husband’s shoulder as he rocked her back and forth, trying to keep his own tears at bay. And now here A.J. was, as adorable and as comforting to her as ever.

Despite how joyful Y/N was that her son had returned, there still was a looming sadness and a looming worry in the back of her head. Sadness for what had happened to her best friend just two days ago, and how she would never see her again, and worry for her husband who had left for the compound yesterday morning, and still hadn’t returned yet. She knew that the reason Steve had left was for them to finally assemble the new gauntlet, and snap their fingers to bring everybody back. Clearly the snap had worked, so what was taking him so long?

As if he had read her thoughts, Y/N heard the front door open and the familiar thump of combat boots on the floor, alerting her that her husband was finally home. She sighed out in relief before placing a kiss on her son’s head, using the couch behind her as leverage to stand her and her baby bump up, and running... well, waddling to the front door.

“Stevie, you’re home!” The woman grinned, but her expression quickly changed when she realized that he was not only wearing the same clothes from when he left yesterday, but also had tons of bruises all over his face and every other body part that was visible. “Wha-What happened to you?”

The man puffed out a breath, holding out his arms and beckoning his wife closer. “Come on, come give me a hug.” He insisted, desperately needing to feel her touch after what he had just experienced. Seeing Pepper kiss Tony one last time as he was dying really left a mark on him. He didn’t want to loose his partner the way that Pepper lost hers.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Steve’s waist and buried her face in his chest, thankful to have this peaceful moment until: “You stink.”

The man lightly chuckled at his wife’s words, knowing that she was in fact correct. “Yeah. Thanos didn’t let us go without a long fight.”

The woman separated to look him in the eye. “Thanos? But he’s dead.”

Steve sighed. “There was a mishap with the time particles. 2014 Thanos got a hold of them and used our own machinery to come here. We fought for hours; the whole compound is in ruins.” Y/N gasped at his words, and he continued. “I would’ve changed my clothes but any spare belongings we had there are gone. This is what I was wearing under the uniform.”

“Oh my god, Steve. Are you okay?” She asked worriedly, stepping back to give his body a once over.

“There’s a cut on the inside of my leg.” He pointed to his inner thigh. “And the shield is in pieces. But other than that, I’m okay. Alive.” Steve couldn’t help but feel guilty that some of his closest friends weren’t. “But we did it, babydoll.” He spoke, wrapping his arms around her to pull her closer again. “It’s finally over. We brought everyone back.”

The padding of little feet brought the couple’s attention elsewhere as baby A.J. came into view, making a huge smile light up on Y/N’s face. “Yeah.” She said, petting her son’s hair. “I know.”

“Dadda here!” The boy squealed, and Steve felt his heart swell in his chest. Tears instantly sprung into the man’s eyes as he let out a sob, leaning down to pick up his boy and bring him into his arms.

Steve was still amazed that Anthony could recognize him based off the pictures that Y/N had shown him alone, but he probably got his great memory from the serum being passed down through genetics, if Steve had to guess. “Hi, A.J.” The man smiled through his tears, bouncing his baby in his arms. “I missed you so much, little guy.”

“No more beard.” His son spoke, pressing his little palms on his dad’s cheeks. He was referring to the beard that Steve had grown five years ago while on the run, and was still sporting when he had first met A.J.

“Yeah, buddy. I shaved.” The man explained, though he knew that the toddler wouldn’t understand what he was saying anyways.

Little sniffles broke Steve out of his A.J.-infused trance and he looked over to where they came from, seeing his wife with her hands covering her mouth while crying.

“I’m sorry, it’s just...” she sniffled again, “you guys look so alike.” She stated in awe. “It’s so cute!”

Her husband chuckled before beckoning her closer. “C’mere, doll.”

Y/N curled into Steve’s side, bringing one of her hands up to stroke A.J.’s soft, chubby cheek. “My little family.” She spoke, sighing out contentedly. “All together. Finally.” Her voice broke at the last word, all of the pain from the last seven years flashing before her eyes. But that part of her life was over now. From now on it would only be happy memories, with both of her boys, and soon her new baby girl, by her side.

Steve looked down at the two, technically three people that he loved the most in the world all surrounding him, and felt like the luckiest man in the universe. “A.J., did your mama tell you that you have a new baby sister coming?” He questioned, so excited to see his son be the best big brother ever.

“Yes!” Anthony cheered. “Mama said she in her belly!”

Steve nodded, laughing at how cute his kid was. “That’s right.” He pressed a kiss to A.J.’s forehead, and then to Y/N’s, before whispering in her ear: “This is the most incredible moment.”

She looked up at him with a smile and whispered back: “I know.”

The man debated on whether or not this was the right time to tell his wife about Tony’s death. It felt wrong to lie to her, to pretend that everything was okay, but he really didn’t want to spoil the moment. They hadn’t felt this at peace in so many years, and he just wanted to hold onto that a little bit longer.

‘Tonight.’ He told himself. ‘Later tonight I’ll tell her.’

Steve knew that she would scream and cry, just as she did for Natasha, and it was completely justified for her to do so. He wished that he just could’ve tried a bit harder in the battle, and maybe Tony would still be here, but he also knew that-that was a lie.

Everything that had happened up until this moment was inevitable. All that Steve could do now was live with it, and make sure that nothing would ever happen to anyone he cared about again.

Both Tony and Natasha sacrificed themselves so that families all around the universe could reconnect and have a moment just like he was having right now. And Steve was going to bask in this beautiful moment for as long as he could.

Next Chapter

Feedback is always welcome!❤️

[we-are-inevitable]

not moving on, not looking back // javid (ch. 10)

A/N: y’all know the drill

TW: discussion of abuse (physical and substance related)

Read On AO3!

And that’s how it starts.

They stop at David’s beforehand so he can change out of his slacks, shirt, and tie, and if David purposefully wears an outfit to elicit a certain response from Jack, he plays it off pretty well. He had changed into a tight white t-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit in all the right places, hidden under a baggy hoodie that he didn't take off until he was safe within the walls of Jack’s home. It feels… empty, now that Katherine isn’t there to fill the space with her voice, her presence.

It’ll be an adjustment, but as long as Katherine and Jack are okay with it, then David will follow their lead.

David sits alone on his phone while Jack goes upstairs and changes. He scrolls through twitter for a while, until he hears footsteps and-- oh, holy shit. Jack walks into view wearing a black sleeveless muscle shirt and gray sweats, and his hair looks so deliciously messy from combing the gel out. He’d clearly gone for the more comfortable look, and David has to stop himself from staring.

“You want anything to drink?” Jack asks as he walks into the kitchen, which prompts David to stand and follow him. Jack grabs a beer from the fridge, offering a second to David.

“Hey, I know we kind of talked already, but… How are you? Like, really?” David asks as Jack takes a drink.

Jack takes in a deep breath and shrugs as he hops onto the island in the middle of the kitchen, swinging his feet. He looks up at David, who has positioned himself to lean against the counter about two feet in front of Jack. “It… It tore me up for a while last night, after she told me, but honestly? I feel a lot better. Like a weight’s been lifted. I had a bad panic attack, but we talked more last night than we’ve talked to each other in ages, and I… I feel like I got my best friend back, y’know? I didn’t get a lot of sleep, though, just… because it’s makin’ me think about stuff I ain’t never thought about before.”

“Like what?” David asks softly, tilting his head before taking a sip of the beer. “Not that- I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but maybe I can help a little. I don’t mind.”

“It’s just… Family stuff,” Jack admits, then rubs his forehead. “We told my Ma last night and she was, y’know, a bit disappointed, but she understood. I just… The whole divorce thing makes me feel like my dad,” Jack explains softly, crossing his arms over his chest. For someone who is nearing thirty, Jack looks like a vulnerable teenager right then. He slowly looks up into David’s eyes, gulping. “He always said he regretted not getting a divorce. He wasn’t a good guy at all. Homophobic, real republican, but my mom married him because he had a good job and a good family. He was the one to kinda push the whole football thing on me, but I was never good at playin’, y’know? Loved the game, but I didn’t have any skill, trust me," Jack says with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Did they get a divorce? Your parents?”

“No, my, uh… My mama died before anything was finalized, and everything kinda took a turn. I got… I don’t know. I was really fucked up for a long time. The school counselor suggested that I start drawing my feelings or starting a journal or something, and it worked. Really well, actually. I loved it.”

“Is that what got you into art? Kath mentioned that you wanted to go to art school,” David murmurs, moving to lean against the island, right next to Jack’s leg.

“Yeah, actually,” Jack says with a laugh, then gulps. “My dad wasn’t a fan of me doing the art stuff. I took an art class in middle school, and we had a showcase at the end of the year. I invited him to it, and he-- Do you, uh, do you mind if I talk about this? I don’t wanna force, like, heavy shit on you if you aren’t comfortable,” Jack cuts himself off, looking at David with a gulp. “I’ve only ever told my ma and Kath about this. My dad just… wasn’t a nice guy.”

“Thanks for checking in, but I don’t mind, okay? I’ll tell you if I’m ever not in the right headspace, but, Jack, you’re going through a lot. Just let it out,” David encourages with a sad grin.

Jack nods, then takes in a deep breath. “So-- Art show. Dad said he wasn’t gonna come. Told me he wasn’t gonna support me doing something ‘queer’, even though I’m- even though I told him I wasn’t,” Jack explains, taking a long drink from his bottle with a blank expression on his face. “But, uh, he didn’t believe me when I told him I wasn’t, and he… slapped me. That was when I was eleven. The physical stuff continued, ‘specially when football season started up again and he saw that I was on the bench every game, ‘cause I really wasn’t good at it. It got… rough. It only stopped when my coach noticed a bruise when we were practicing and I- I guess I was real stiff and limping real hard, so he told me to sit out, and when I took my pads off, my shirt lifted up, and… My dad was in police custody the next morning.”

“Fuck, Jack,” David says in an apologetic voice, staring at him with a lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry you went through that… Did he go to prison, or--”

“Yeah, there was a bunch of evidence, so- so he went to prison. Really easy case against him. He was supposed to get, um, ten years, I think. The last time I saw him, he told me that he was glad my mom was dead so she didn’t have to see me 'turn gay’- like I said, he was a shitty guy. That… I don’t know. I used to be like that, too, but then one of my friends, a coworker of mine, came out, like… eight years ago?” Jack bites his lip, looking down at his hands after putting his bottle down. “I’ve changed. I realized that I was just actin’ like him. I never realized he was so… bad, until I became an adult.”

“Are you still…” David gulps. “You haven’t talked to your father?”

Jack looks up at David, and smiles sadly. “He had a heart attack in prison, about five years in. So… yeah. I’m all that’s left.”

David is at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to say. This is not how he thought the night would go, but at least Jack was getting to vent and David was getting to know him on an even more personal level but, good God, Jack had been through so much.

And adding being adopted, losing his daughter, and divorcing his wife into the mix…

Jack has hurt more in his life than he ever let on.

“Jack, I… I don’t know what to say,” David admits with a frown, but slowly reaches out, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me all of that. You… You’re so strong, y’know? You’ve been through so much, yet you’re successful and smart and… I know we haven’t known each other long, but I am so, so proud of you. But- but you shouldn't have had to be so strong. You didn't deserve any of that. Not the… Not the abuse, or the homophobia, or the pressure. If you ever need to talk about it again, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Thank you, Davey, that means a lot,” Jack says with a tight-lipped grin, then gulps. “What about you? You got any skeletons in your closet? 'S only fair that you tell me somethin' sad now, y'know.”

David stares at him for a moment. He then holds up one finger and downs the rest of the beer in his bottle, taking in a deep breath once he is done. His eyes close and he tilts his head back, then begins speaking. “From the age of twenty-two to about a month and a half ago, I was addicted to cocaine. I had a brief stint in which heroin was a daily thing, but that stopped after a few months. Too expensive. I regularly had sex with drug dealers in exchange for pills, I’ve been kicked out of gay bars for showing up high out of my mind, I now go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and I have to spend, like, ten minutes every morning trying to convince myself not to call in sick just because I’m having bad withdrawals. Bad as in, like, shaking in the shower and crying because I feel like I need to shoot up.” He slowly opens one eye, shooting a sad grin toward Jack. “I guess we’re even, huh?”

Jack stares at him for a few moments, then lets out a laugh as he nods along. “I- I guess you can say that, yeah,” He murmurs, then looks at David with a gulp. “If you ever need anything, just let me know, ‘kay? I don’t… I don’t really have experience with that kind of stuff, but if you ever need anything, I’m here, whether you need to talk, or you… need somewhere to stay,” Jack says slowly, seriously, and David nods. “I’m right here, Dave. Just like you're here for me.”

“Thank you, Jack. I’ve been getting better, I think- the, uh, withdrawals are starting to mellow out, at least a little bit, but it’s just… getting used to sobriety that’s throwing me for a loop,” David admits. He watches Jack’s eyes shift from his face to the empty bottle in his hand, and David shakes his head. “I know what you’re thinking-- I never had an alcohol problem, it was just the drugs. I, uh, don’t drink often, though. Just to make sure.”

David doesn’t drink often because David has an addictive personality. David doesn’t drink often because David knows he’s susceptible to alcoholism if he goes down the wrong path.

It makes him feel better to know that Jack is watching out for him in that way, though.

“If you’re sure,” Jack responds with a kind smile. The two of them fall into a comfortable silence. Jack finishes his beer, David watches him, and everything is… calm.

But not for long.

“Dave? Can I ask you a kind of weird question?”

“Shoot.”

“How’d ya know you were gay?”

David’s eyes widen a bit. He wasn’t expecting... that. He looks up, but Jack refuses to meet his eyes. He’s instead staring at the cabinet above the sink, sitting eerily still, and David isn’t sure how to respond for a few moments. Slowly, David shrugs, and looks down at his hands. “I just never really found an interest in women. Plus, I used to be really into this guy in one of my classes… I don’t know, it was just kind of natural for me. My parents were religious, but they never really said anything about it if I brought guys home for dinner, or if I wore makeup to school. I never really had that… epiphany, I just… I was just gay. Never questioned it,” He explains, holding his breath in the heavy silence that follows. He slowly glances back up toward Jack, expecting to see him staring off into space, but to his surprise Jack is staring right back at him. “Can I ask why you’re asking?”

Jack gulps. There’s a long moment of silence, before he sits up a little straighter. “Kath has been talking about 'self exploration' ever since yesterday. Mentioned she’s, uh… curious.”

“Mhm.”

Jack meets David’s eyes. He stares for a few moments before locking his lips, straightening his posture, and saying, “I think I might be, too.”

There’s a beat of silence. David holds his breath. Holds Jack’s gaze. He waits for a few moments, waiting for Jack to back down, but it never comes. Finally, David gives in.

He asks, breathless, “Wanna find out?”

There’s no more speaking after that.

[irrlicht-writes]

the path we choose to walk on pt.4

So this is it. Part 4, everyone. The last part! We made it to the end! Wooo! (now I have to focus on my bang again) Thank you for being with me. I hope you enjoyed the ride. Tell me what you thought! Tell me what you liked! Tell me what you hated! (be nice though) @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @cass-said-i-love-you @professorerudite @insertdeeplyrics anyone else want on the tag list?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Ao3

Part 4: let the good times roll

Sam and Eileen gift a painting set to Castiel one day. Dean isn’t sure why but they say it’s because he saved their baby. Later Cas admits to Dean that he barely remembers what happened.

As it turns out, Castiel sees the world vastly different than Dean. Dean’s no art critic, nor could he detect a masterpiece in the making but to him, Cas’ pieces feel alive. There is a certain aspect to them.

Castiel paints mostly with his fingers and the faces of the people are wonky at best but still, they stare right into Dean’s heart.

“They are dead,” Cas says, “but with this, they’re alive. There was a world people cannot understand today. You have changed so much in so little time and yet it remains – you will always look at the world with wonder in your eyes.”

 Charlie helps them sell Cas’ art online. They sell somewhat well and Dean thinks that Cas is happy that he gets to help. Cas had said that he would’ve like to take a real job, but Dean shut him down very quickly.

Nobody would want to hire Cas – first, Cas didn’t even properly exist. And second; there would be too many days where Cas would have to stay at home. Any employer would only allow so many sick days and Dean is afraid of sending Cas to a therapist.

Even though he knows that they all probably need one, how would you even start explaining?

“Yeah, roughly 15 years ago I set off with my brother to find our dad and now our son turned into God. Oh and also we picked up this literal angel as our best friend and all of us – our son concluded who by the way was fathered by Lucifer – have died several times and then we just kind of went going.”

Yeah. No.

Not to mention all the additional bullshit Castiel would have to unpack. Dean’s been in a mental constitution once; he doesn’t really have to go there again. And he certainly doesn’t want Cas to go there – also, again.

The bees are still on Dean’s mind. He doesn’t need a repeat of that.

And anyway, the paintings are selling. And in time, they might even be able to ask for more money. Dean doesn’t really hold out hope but who knows?

 Two years after Maria is born, Sam and Eileen get married. Dean knows that they’ve been discussing marriage for a long time and have never been able to decide whether it was for them or not. But then Eileen proposed and here they are.

“She asked me to accompany her with the ring shopping. I think she just wanted to use me for my fingers,” Cas says to Dean and Dean smirks.

“Do you think Jack’ll show up?”

“I don’t know. I’ve told him; and I’m sure he knows but whether or not he’ll actually show up... it would be good to see him again. But even if he can’t make it here, he’ll be watching over these two.”

They are about to begin the ceremony and Dean’s excited to be the Best Man. He’s never thought he’d get to be that for real so it feels like a dream. Maria’s supposed to be the Flower Girl but she hasn’t shown up yet.

“Cas,” Charlie rushes over to them. Cas blinks up at her, tilting his head.

“Maria doesn’t want to walk, she’s embarrassed. Do you think you can help her out?”

Maria has gotten overly attached to Cas in these past two years and Dean believes it’s just infatuation. After all, who could look into these big blue eyes and not fall for them? Dean, however, is a little bit upset over the fact that she likes Cas better than him. But he’ll just wait until Maria will appreciate cars. And that’s when Dean will win.

“Of course,” Cas replies, “come on, Miracle.”

Miracle has essentially become Castiel’s therapy dog. She follows him everywhere and makes sure he eats and drinks enough. She loves Cas to pieces and anyone who even looks at the angel wrong gets growled at.

Dean watches them walk away and gets his phone out. He knows that there is a photographer here that films things but he wants that piece for himself. And he has to go up there anyway, so he might just go now anyway.

It takes five more minutes before Cas was apparently able to convince Maria to come out – and even then, she’s getting carried. She’s holding the flower basket close to her chest and Cas encourages her to throw the petals down. Dean’s heart melts at the sight of them.

Cas stops next to the pew where Claire and Kaia are sitting and basically tells Maria to throw flowers on them. Claire laughs and playfully shoves Cas away from them. Jody and Donna are also getting petals thrown in their face. Everybody is smiling and Dean’s happy that he’s filming this.

Maria is giggling and throwing petals all over the place. “She was so stiff before,” Charlie whispers in his direction.

“She wasn’t even looking at me and now look at that. How is Cas’ gayness softer than mine?”

“You’re just intimidating.”

“Cas is an angel!”

 Eileen is beautiful when she walks down the aisle. Sam next to him exhales and has the biggest smile on his stupid face.

“Mama so pretty!” Maria proclaims loudly while clapping her hands.

“Yes, she is,” Cas replies a little quieter. He has her sitting on his lap and he has a flower in his hair. Apparently Maria was supposed to give that to her mom but she had decided that it was for Cas, so now he was wearing the flower. It does fit him, Dean thinks.

The ceremony itself goes over without a hitch even though Sam almost breaks down crying twice. Dean was expecting more, if he’s honest. Maybe Sammy practised with Cas – apparently Cas is the solution to every problem.

Later, at the party, Dean holds an embarrassing speech about Sam and after, Sam dunks his head into a pie. This is fair, because Dean definitely deserves that. It’s all good, though. Cas laughs and wipes Dean’s face clean and Maria – still in Cas’ lap – giggles like it’s Christmas.

Dean dances with Eileen and Sam dances with Cas and Maria. Charlie’s taking pictures and Dean loves it. Cas can’t dance for very long and he leans heavily onto Sam but he tries his best for Sam and Maria both.

Dean loves him.

And someday, he’ll man up enough to actually say these words. He just needs a little bit longer. And Cas is here to stay. Dean’ll work up the courage he needs and then it’ll be alright.

 Charlie is dancing with Maria and Eileen is sitting next to Cas. She’s taken her shoes off and is likely complaining to the angel that her feet hurt. Cas is holding the wedding bouquet now and Dean knows that Eileen will insist he keep it.

“I wish she would’ve thrown it,” Claire says and Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

“You were hoping to catch it, weren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

 At the end, Jack didn’t show. The party had ended a while ago, but Dean and Castiel are still sitting on a bench outside. It’s a nice night, and Dean doesn’t want to drive home yet. There are no clouds in the sky and the stars are shining bright. Dean reckons that that’s Jack’s doing. He still wishes he would’ve shown his face.

“Don’t be mad at him,” Castiel says while leaning on Dean’s shoulder. “You know he doesn’t do that well with a lot of people.”

Yes. That is true but still – he hadn’t even come to congratulate Sam? He also still hadn’t come to meet Maria yet. Dean wonders what work a God has to do. Didn’t Jack say he wanted to be hands off?

“Don’t you miss him?” Dean asks.

“Every day,” Castiel replies.

Castiel raises a hand towards the sky and Dean sees a shooting star. But the star stops after it passes Cas’ hand.

Castiel retracts his hand and there’s a golden orb floating above his palm.

“What’s that?”

It glows brightly and it’s almost too much for Dean to look at. It compels him in the same way it tells him to stay away from it. Where did it come from? Why is it here? What’s it going to do?

“Divinity,” Castiel quietly replies and closes his hand, making the orb disappear.

 *

 “Dean, really?”

Dean sighs. He knew it was a mistake to talk to Sam about this. But he knows that Charlie would’ve squealed in his ear and honestly, Claire is still a bit too young for this to talk about it. And yeah sure, Eileen would’ve been an option but even after all this time, Dean still hasn’t improved on his signing skills.

“I know it’s stupid.”

“I didn’t say that. But have you even choked up an I love you?”

Dean is quiet.

“Oh my god, I knew it. Dean, you can’t just propose like that!”

“...shut up.”

He pockets the box inside his jacket. He doesn’t want to propose right now anyway. It’s more like a promise to himself, that one day he might be worthy of this. If – when he’ll find the words one day, he’ll be good enough for Cas. He can be.

He will be.

For Cas, the best thing that ever happened to him.

For Cas, who still thinks he’s barely tolerated.

For Cas, who sees the world as more than it is.

For Cas, who loves so much and has never been loved in return.

 Their first kiss doesn’t quite happen as Dean would’ve imagined it – not that he had ever been imagining it in the first place.

Cas is watching Dancing With The Stars and he’s really fascinated. Apparently, he’s never danced before. Dean’s never told him about Garth and Bess dancing in front of the window. He wonders how they’re doing now. Maybe they’re dancing right at this moment, while Sam and Castiel are finally asleep?

“Dean, please?” Castiel’s blue eyes are pleading and Dean has a hard time saying no. Cas always asks for so little and Dean’s always liked dancing when he got a chance to do it – which sadly is not often. So he sighs and stands up from the couch, offering his hand up to Cas.

“Might I have this dance, milady?”

Cas blinks at him in question, and then looks at the outstretched hand. At last, there’s a smile stealing itself across Castiel’s face and he gently takes Dean’s hand and hauls himself up.

“Of course, my lord.”

Dean chuckles and pulls Cas flush against him. It’s been a while since they were this close together without one of them on literal death’s door. Cas is alive and warm under his hands and Dean starts swaying. He’s never danced a real dance, much less so with another man. But it’s not like Cas could dance at all, so it’s okay. And besides – it’s not about the skill, it’s about the experience. And Cas –

Cas is laughing. It’s a happy laugh and he enjoys himself. It’s truly a sight to see. It’s rare to see Cas so relaxed and Dean feels more than privileged to witness this much less be the cause of it. Dean swirls Cas on the spot and as the swirl ends, Cas stumbles forward against Dean’s chest. Dean holds him tight and it’s a good feeling.

Cas’ hair is brushing against Dean’s chin and he feels calm. He gently puts one hand on Castiel’s cheek and Cas nuzzles into it. Castiel’s hand is loosely laying on Dean’s chest and the volume of the TV playing in the background is already fading away.

Dean’s in love.

He’s in love with Castiel.

He gently directs Castiel’s face upwards and looks at the big, blue, blinking eyes.

He doesn’t understand how he got to be so lucky.

Dean bends down, just a little, and ever so gently presses his lips against Castiel’s mouth.

It’s a quiet kiss, one that doesn’t require anything.

“Dean,” is all that Cas says afterwards but Dean quietly hushes him.

“Shh,” he replies and kisses him again.

It’s easier than anything else he’s ever done.

He doesn’t remember why he was ever afraid of this.

This, right here, is where he’s meant to be.

With the TV running in the background, in his shitty apartment, in worn-out clothes, with a dog sleeping in her bed, kissing Castiel.

Sometimes things are just easy.

Dean holds Castiel tight and thankfully, Castiel doesn’t speak.

It’s the most comforting silence and Dean cherishes it.

He’s in love.

 *

 It’s a soft thing, after. Nothing changes and yet, so much is different.

He kisses Cas in the morning before he goes to work; in the afternoon when he returns; when they make dinner; when they watch TV.

It’s the easiest thing in the world.

And yet, Dean knows that Cas wonders.

I know you don’t love me.

But Dean does. He just can’t say it. If he did, then – then what would John say? Dad would judge him for this. Dad would call him a girl; and a fairy; and tell Dean that Dad hadn’t raised a gay son.

 He’s still thinking about this in bed. Next to him, Cas is fast asleep, holding onto Dean’s arm. Miracle is snoring in her own doggy bed.

“I love Cas,” Dean says toneless into the dark room and is instantly overcome by anxiety. Somehow, even after all these years, he expects John to bust through the door and expose him and nail him to the cross or something.

He turns to his side and looks at Cas. The angel looks so relaxed in his sleep and Dean gently pats his hair. Cas mumbles a bit and burrows closer to Dean as if to seek warmth. Dean puts his free arm around him and pulls him as close as possible, tucking the angel under his chin.

He doesn’t know what to do. Cas deserves to be told. But whenever Dean thinks it might be the right time for it – then there’s John standing in the distance, observing and judging him. Dean knows he just has to do it, that he just has to push through. Dad is dead and nothing can happen anymore. But this fear is far too ingrained inside his brain. Maybe writing a letter would help? But somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.

Dean needs to say it.

He has to say it.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

For all his bravery, for all his courage – he can’t.

 “A bird learns to fly when it falls.”

Cas is not in bed when Dean wakes up.

“Water will whittle away the mountain.”

Cas is nowhere to be found inside the apartment. Miracle is quiet.

“A flower will break through the concrete.”

Dean panics. In his panic, he runs outside.

“Long after its death, a star will remain in the sky.”

 Outside it’s foggy.

But there is Cas.

Cas is standing outside, barefooted, and Dean is rooted to the spot.

There are golden orbs floating around Castiel.

Divinity, Cas had called them.

“Cas,” Dean breathes and the angel turns around.

“Hello, Dean.”

 “What are those?”

“I’ve told you. Divinity.”

“Yes, I know, but what are they?”

“A burden shared is a burden lifted. Ever since I woke all the way back before time existed, a great many stars have died. And still, some remain in the sky. Did you never wonder where they go?

Their physical form shall burn from velocity, but what about the stars? What about them? Who catches them? Where do they go? Shall they forever be lost in space?

I was lost too, you know. I was lost ever since the start. Sometimes I think I remember. Sometimes I think I remember an all consuming light in the dark. Sometimes I think I remember the beginning before it ever began. Sometimes I think I remember the void, the naught.

And then, just as quickly, I lose it again.

Why did Father abandon us?

Why did He create so many of us, if none of us mattered?

Come with us, the stars whispered to me, we have no answers but mayhap we shall find them.

Why did the stars exist, if only to die? I didn’t want them to be lost and so I collected them. I found them in the void and I took them with me for I thought I might find a purpose within them. And in time, they started finding me. I became their haven, their destination.

But still, I was lost. Each time a star would find me, I think I can see the light in the void again, the end after the end. But soon these memories are gone, too, and I can only hold on to scraps. And I wonder.

What if I don’t remember at all? What if what I see are just fragments from the stars, showing me what they saw in their last moments?

Dean, you must know: time is not linear. What happens before will happen after. The end happens before the start and sometimes the beginning happens in the middle. This time, this life is just one stream amongst them all.

Some stars tell me of the end; and others tell me of the start. Maybe some tell me of the middle. And maybe some tell me of all, and all I get is the light in the void at the start.

I’ve wondered.

Why am I broken?

Why am I, of all the angels, the only one that’s cracked?

What went wrong?

Why was it only ever me? Why wasn’t perfect like the others? Why weren’t others cracked as I was?

Why was I the only one that’s ever looked to the stars and collected them?

What if Father never made me?

What if – what if I was created by something else?

And if so, what was it? And why? And why did Father allow me to continue existing? Did He perhaps just not notice? Did He perhaps just not care? Did He perhaps just think me merely another insignificant angel that He needn’t pay attention to?

What broke the connection?

Why am I the only angel to love you?

Was I whole before, perhaps, but if that was so – what shattered me? What put me back together? Where did the missing pieces go?

The light I remember in the naught – what is it? Where does it come from? Why does it matter at all, why do I care if it lights up the void or not?

Why do I cling to a light that does not matter?

I –

I’m lost, Dean.

Amidst the stars, I am lost.

From here on out, where do I go?”

 Dean reaches out.

Castiel is standing there all alone, surrounded by what remains of the stars – surrounded by divinity.

He takes Castiel’s hand.

“Go with me,” he says.

“I love you,” he says.

Amidst the stars, Castiel smiles.

Dean thinks he can see the light that Castiel spoke about.

It’s a soft, shining light and it’s free.

 *

 “I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a big thing, Cas, you know? What if I fail?”

“Then we’ll fail together.”

 Dean buys a corner lot. It’s very expensive. But he has a dream. He doesn’t want to work construction forever. He deserves to be happy. And Cas is here. Cas is here, and Sam is here, and Eileen is here – and everyone is here.

He’s not alone and he can rely on all these people. They want to help him; they want him to be happy. He can do this. For the first time in his life, he can do something solely for himself.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have to depend only on himself.

 *

 Sam hoists Maria out of the car seat. He wants to go and help Eileen out of the car but if he did, she’d kick him in the shin.

“Are there no balloons?” Maria wants to know. Sam looks up. True, there are no balloons outside.

“I’m sure Uncle Dean’s got some inside, sweetheart.”

Maria grins from ear to ear and hugs her monkey toy harder. Cas had given it to her just a few years ago. It hadn’t even been her birthday; he had just wanted to give something to his niece. Sam is glad that they get along so well. But sometimes he debates: should they tell her that Cas is an angel? It’s not a problem right now, but he and Dean and Eileen will start aging one day while Cas will not.

But, ah well, it might be best to cross that bridge when they’d get there.

“Hunter’s Rest is a nice name,” Eileen says when she finally steps next to Sam. Sam just nods. It’s true. Sam had kept suggesting Roadhouse, in Ellen’s and Ash’s and Jo’s legacy but Dean had always refused. Dean hadn’t wanted to be a copy-cat of what they’ve been.

Dean wants something that’s his own.

And Sam couldn’t be happier for him.

It was a long road, getting here, and even now he could scarcely believe it.

But the Hunter’s Rest is officially opening today.

He smiles at Eileen, takes both his girl’s hands and enters Dean’s bar.

 “Uncle Dean!”

Maria yells as soon as she spots her uncle and throws herself at his middle from across the room. Dean laughs and catches her. He lifts her up and holds her on his hip.

“How’s my favourite tornado?”

She giggles and hugs him tight.

“Where’s Uncle Cas?”

“He’s still in the back, sweetheart. Be nice to him today, okay? It’s not a good day. But I know he’ll be happy to see you, so why don’t you go say hello?”

Maria nods with a solemn expression on her face. She knows about Uncle Cas’ bad days. She shouldn’t be too loud on these and she has to understand that he might not want to play as much with her. She loves Uncle Cas. She wouldn’t tell this to anyone because she knows Uncle Dean would be upset, but Uncle Cas is her favourite. There’s a glow about him that she can’t explain to anyone, but it draws her to him.

Uncle Dean puts her on the ground and she goes to find Uncle Cas. When she finds him, he smiles at her. He looks tired and sick, but he glows so brightly today.

“Hello, Maria,” he greets her.

She steps closer and climbs into his lap.

“I love you,” she says and Uncle Cas hugs her tight.

 “Looks good, Dean,” Sam says to Dean in the meantime. Dean grins and pulls his brother close. He nods at Eileen who waves back.

“How are we coming along?” he asks her and she rubs her stomach.

“Good,” she replies, “the doctor says it’s two.”

“Two, huh? Man, Sammy, you dog!”

Sam laughs and Dean slaps him on the shoulder.

“Maria was really hoping for some balloons,” Sam says and Dean shrugs.

“I have some in the back, but I don’t know if I should hang them up. It’s gonna be a few hours still until official opening, you know?”

“Are Charlie and Stevie coming?”

“Yeah, Charlie’s gonna help me set up the music. The others are coming too, but Donna can’t make it. Some important thing came up but she’s gonna drop by in the coming days.”

Sam nods.

“There should be balloons,” Eileen pipes up and Dean sighs deeply.

“Fine,” he says then, “but y’all are helping me with that. I ain’t the only one blowing these things up.”

“I overheard,” Cas says as he’s rolling out of the back in his wheelchair. On his lap, there are Maria and a big load of balloons.

Dean sighs. “Why am I being set up?”

Castiel smiles at Dean. “Because balloons make everything better. We should’ve gotten glitter, too, you know? We’ll help, Dean.”

 “Bad day, huh?” Sam asks him while they are placing the balloons. Dean nods.

“Last couple days actually. Yesterday was the worst; he wouldn’t even get out of bed. The day before that, he spent almost all day puking into the toilet. But he’s getting better now, I think. It’s just – I know that he’s sick. I know that these days happen and that they’ll happen again, it just – it just fucking scares me, y’know? Knowing that there’s nothing I can do, no spell to find to cure him or anything – it just makes me feel so helpless.”

Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, you’re doing great. What you’re going through – what you both are going through – is extremely stressful. I can’t even imagine. I can’t imagine all the hurdles you had to go through to get here. How scary it has to be to wake at night and see Cas being sick again. I’m proud of you, Dean. I really am. You’re holding it together so well and if – if you ever have to break, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. You’re not alone. You’re never alone, Dean.”

Dean huffs out a laugh and turns to hug his brother.

It’s true.

Their lone journey is over.

They started with just the two of them.

But they’re never going to be alone again.

 *

 “I love you,” Dean whispers into dark hair.

“I don’t know when I fell in love. I don’t know when I realised. But I love you. I love all of you.

We’ve endured a great many things, you and I. We fell and rose together, we burned and crashed together. And in all this time, you weren’t even supposed to be there. But you were. You fought and clawed your way back to me every single time, and I’ve never even said thank you. I never once appreciated all the pain and misery you had to endure just to get back to me.

No matter what, you were there. You were there for me and Sam when nobody else was. You stayed by your side since the very beginning and you overturned everything you believed in because you started to believe in me. You had faith in me, the man without faith. And through you – you became my faith. I believed in nothing, I had faith in nothing – except you. I had faith in you. When you were gone, so was my faith gone. And when you returned, you brought it back with you.

When we met, you told me that good things do happen.

For so long, I didn’t believe you. But you were right. And know what? That good thing that would happen to me was right in front of me. And we didn’t know. Neither of us knew. Who could’ve imagined?

A man afraid of flying and an angel afraid of falling.

We really did meet in the middle, huh?

I’m sorry, Cas. I never did right by you. All your life you thought you were wrong because you weren’t like the others. You always believed that you needed to atone for your sins someway. And I – I didn’t help you. I made you think that you were expendable, that you weren’t worth anything. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, because I was wrong.

You’re worth everything. You matter so much, Cas – to me, to Sam, to the world. I’m sorry that all of us have fallen short. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make it up to you for all eternity, because I love you. If you’ll have me for whatever reason, then I’m yours. And I’m never going to let go. If I lose you, I will stop at nothing to find you again.

It’s you and me. Now and forever.”

“Look for the light,” Castiel whispers into the darkness.

“Look for the light and you’ll always find me there.”

 *

 At the end of a long, long life, Dean opens his eyes.

Above him, there’s nothing but endless stretches of blue sky.

Dean sits up and looks around.

He’s in an onion field and he stands up.

He turns to the side and sees him there.

 There’s a trench-coat angel standing in the onion field, surrounded by the golden orbs of stars.

The wings behind him are magnificent and have the colour of a rainbow.

 Dean starts approaching him.

Behind the angel, there is a massive tree.

 “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Thunderstorms

Thanks to @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles for letting me run away with this idea. It’s not quite what we discussed but we all know I’m a soft ass bitch. 

Michael’s definitely the dad that got his quirks. He’s chill about somethings and apprehensive about others. And though a beach day turns in early, it’s a good reminder Michael’s always there for his family. 

Reader Insert. No specific race. 

Enjoy my masterlist. 

You can support me on kofi. 

__________________________

It’s a bit of a gamble, attempting to head east during the summer. But it has been a while since you saw your family and the kids are dying to see their GrandPops and Gma as your parents were affectionately dubbed. Both you and Michael figured it is safer to go early in the summer months, the chances of storms or hurricanes wasn’t zero, but it is significantly lower than waiting until August or so. So that leads you here, in late June that holds just on the horizon cookouts and BBQ’s that are famous in your family. 

Until a strong breeze comes through, bringing with it dark clouds. You look out to the sea, the breeze whipping sand up and the edges of your towel are fluttering too. “We should get home,” you warn Michael quietly. 

He’s sitting next to you, arms folded behind his head as he lounges in the foldable chair You decided to help the baby, Orion, put the last touches on her sandcastle. It’s not much of a castle at all, but it makes her content and there’s no way you’re going to fight that. Michael doesn’t respond, chest still rising and falling. 

You turn your gaze back to the kids. Orion latches onto Treyvon’s arm, attempting to get him over to look at her castle. He packs down the sand in his own bucket. “I’m coming, Ri,” he returns. Treyvon’s the oldest at 8 and Orion’s just behind him at 6. They trot back over to you and you turn back to Michael, tapping at his calf. “Michael, baby,” you say a bit louder to wake him. 

He groans, head snapping over to you. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Even though he’s wearing sunglasses, you see how tired he is. Last week he had some trouble sleeping and then Orion was sick. While Michael and Treyvon were thick as thieves, there is a soft spot in Michael’s heart for his little girl. There is nothing that she can’t get from Michael. All she has to blink her eyelashes and candy, toys, clothes, extra helpings of ice cream, first dibs on which section of the cornbread she wants is all hers.

 Michael spent most of the nights up nursing Orion, checking that her fever broke, that she drank plenty of fluids, nursing the tummy aches, giving her the extra snuggles that eased her into slumber. You were tempted to rebook the airline tickets for later. Orion didn’t get sick often, so you figured it had to be something serious. However by about Tuesday night, she was on the up and up. Though Michael kept a close eye on her throughout the rest of the week. 

You rub your hand over his knee, nodding out to the sea. More families are packing up from the beach. “Storm’s coming in.”

 Michael looks over the water and sees the dark clouds on the horizon too. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Don’t know. I’ve been in the hardhat zone over here for a while,” you tease. Michael chuckles, falling back into the scratchy material of the seat. “You’re going to get the tour next.”

It’s a quiet warning and no sooner than it leaves your mouth, Orion comes kicking up sand, hand reaching out for Michael’s. “Look, Papa,” she grins. Though she’s dropped the “Bear” right now, you know the grin that takes over Michael’s face. 

You started the trend, calling him Papa Bear when the kids were young, even before then. With Treyvon, you’d tease to Michael that he was a cuddly bear and therefore a Papa Bear, like in the book “Hop on Pop.” However, Michael demanded that no one actually hop on him. The demand was short lived once the babies got big enough to jump on the beds. Occasionally a spleen would take a foot coming down in all the excitement. 

Michael groans as he pushes up from the chair and follows Orion over to her two part sandcastle. You’re sure to snap a photo as Michael settles into the sand, listening intently as she explains the shells as windows and the twig on top as the flag. “It’s truly a masterpiece, sweetpea,” he offers, pulling her into a hug and kissing her temple. “So who’s the queen of this castle? You?”

“Mama!” Orion smiles up at you. “She’s the queen. One day I will too.”

“That’s right,” you and Michael echo. Orion’s greeted with a kiss on the forehead from you and a kiss on the cheek from Michael. Her giggles are soft. She’s a bit shy like Michael, would rather not be the center of attention except if it’s her birthday or if she’s with Michael. Then all bets are off. 

“We gotta head back to GrandPops and Gma’s,” Michael announces, throwing a glance over his shoulder to spy Treyvon turning over a bucket of dense sand. “You’re too far buddy. Stay closer to us.”

“But my castle, Dad.”

“I know. But you’re still too far from me. Just making sure you’re safe, bud.”

Trey’s pout is evident and you stop packing the bag. “I’ll stay with him if you finish packing the bag. I’ll snap a photo of it once you’re done too, Trey. But then we gotta head back. Storm’s coming in fast.”

Trey nods eagerly, running back down the shore and you follow behind with Orion’s spare bucket with her permission. She sticks close to Michael, but offers the left over of her shells for Trey’s castle too. You and Trey make quick work to fill the buckets. “What’s that?” Trey asks, taking his shovel and poking at something in the sand.

It takes a moment for you to spy it in the wet sand, but when Trey pokes it again, it jiggles slightly. The clear body camouflaging itself in the sand. “Jellyfish,” you say, taking hold of his wrist to pull him back. “Those stings hurt. Be careful.”

“It looks dead, Mama.”

“Doesn’t mean it is dead, though. Come on my side and finish filling your bucket, okay?”

“Ma,” Trey groans but when he sees the stern gaze and hard set lines he nods and takes your spot. It does look dead. But you can already see the sight if Trey gets stung. Your parents will have a fit. Michael will panic and wil not sleep for the rest of the vacation, worried about his little man. You get it, to be honest. You’ll be right up with Michael. But if you can avoid that, you will. You will do whatever it takes to avoid that. 

It’s only another minute or so before Trey’s finished and the two of you come back with more sand, packed in tightly. ON the count, you flip them over, but only after getting Treyvon’s specific instructions. He’s particular and neat. Won’t leave anything a mess. Once the pieces are mostly standing, he hands you some shells and you decorate the tiny dumes you’ve created. Michael already had most of the beach gear packed up. 

“What do you think?” you ask Trey taking a step back to admire the four tower castle. 

“Wish I had time for like the moat, but it looks pretty good.” You make sure to take a picture, Trey standing behind the masterpiece and quickly finish up packing away the tools. The rinse off is quick, mostly brushing over the kids with the spare towels and making sure all sand is gone from toes, legs and backs. 

“What’s for dinner?” Trey asks from the backseat. 

You stop at the redlight, still peering up into the skies. “I think Gma is insisting on a taco night.”

“Tacos sound good,” Orion interjects. “I like tacos.”

“Can I put hot sauce on mine?” Trey asks. He’s taken a strong liking to spicy food and though Michael’s always worried that something bad will happen, you always sneak in a few daps of spicy sauces when you can. 

“I don’t know, bub. Could mess up your stomach,” Michael responds, turning in the passenger seat to look to his son.

Trey knows the secret though. He looks into the mirror in the middle of the car and you catch his eye with a wink. “Okay, maybe next time.” 

“I hear some stinky monsters,” your dad jokes, peeking his head out from the kitchen at the sound of you opening the door. 

The kids charge down the hallway, varying degrees of volume to their roar or scream. You know your mother’s going to drop them a little snack but they can’t go too much longer without a bath. South and Moose click their paws on the hardwood floors racing their way to you guys. Your parents dognapped them to take them out and you were halfway expecting Moose to have too much energy and your parents calling that they’ll be dropping her off with you guys at the beach. Even though she had gotten older over the years, she still had her spirit of her puppyhood. But that fear never came to fruition. 

South climbs into Michael’s arms, curling up into the familiar embrace. “Oh, it wasn’t that bad, was it Southy?”

As the dogs settle back down, you know the kids should be done with their snack. So you’re quick to corral them. “Up the stairs. There we go. Up and attem. We shall not be stinky monsters any more.”

“I quite like being stinky,” Trey returns. His ascent is paused to deliver the line and Michael is quick to haul him up and over his shoulder. Trey laughs. “I take it back. I don’t like being stinky.”

“Oh, no, no, no, too late now.” Their laughter echoes long after Michael draws the bath for Trey in the guest bathroom and you take Orion into your parents bathroom. 

“Can I wear my owl pj’s?” Orion asks wrapped in her towel. “I like the owls better.”

“You can wear them, sure.” After you unearth them from the suitcase, you lay them out of the bed and shut the door for her to get dressed. She takes great pride in doing it herself, though sometimes you have to catch the backwards t-shirt before she waltz outside the house. 

“Uh oh, looks like you’re locked out for a few minutes bud.” Michael’s holding the mass of Trey’s swimming trunks and towel. Trey’s dressed already which is good. But if he wanted to grab anything, like a book, or a toy, he is out of luck for a bit. 

“That’s okay. I’m gonna go help Gma.” Trey’s descendant down to the main floor is more nosey that you would normally like, but there’s not too much to say. 

“I started a pile in my parent’s bathroom, which I’ll have to get up soon, if you just wanted to dump those for now and then shower yourself,” you offer, hands out for the dirty clothes. 

“All my stuff is still in the bedroom. So, I’m locked out too. But I’ll grab her stuff and start a load of laundry.”

“If you want, but we still have our clothes and towels too.”

“Good thing laundry is free,” he teases, disappearing down the hallway. When he returns, he has Orion’s bathing suit and towel as well. 

Over the years, coming back home feels like never leaving. Your mother is all too happy to be loads of laundry though, she refuses to fold a damn thing. That’s the job for everyone else and no one complains. Food is always plentiful, though you do sneak cash into your mother’s purse to cover the extra expense in grocery. Your father always has to the one to say he put it there so no fights ensue. Though, you know your mother knows it’s you. But visiting wouldn’t be the same if the cycle didn’t occur. 

Visiting your parents isn’t always ideal, though it had its perks. Specifically because of the sleeping situation and only because of the sleeping situation. There’s one only one spare room fit for housing guests The second bedroom was converted into a study, where you can remember spending too many nights up and staring out of the windows, or sneaking out of them. 

The guest room was originally your old room, but your mother couldn’t stop her decorative itch once you moved out. The room worked, even when there was only a limited number of bathrooms as well. The bed was big enough that the kids could sleep on it even with the way Orion fitfully slept. Michael always told you to sleep on the bed with the kids. He could fit on the mattress, that wasn’t a problem, but he knew that it was cramped sometimes. So Michael sleeps on the floor at the foot of the bed. It never lasted long that he was there by himself because you always slinked down from the bed. 

At first you’d lay with your head at the foot of the bed, with one arm dangling and he always reaches up to capture your fingers with his. And then you ask him to join you on the bed. Sometimes he gives in. Sometimes he doesn’t. And when he doesn’t you crawl down, thankful for the carpet that your parents hadn’t ripped up yet. The beauty of it all is that you made it work. And you hoped maybe they kids would always remember that it might’ve been a little cramped at times but you always made it work. 

The door creaks open and Orion smiles before taking her more quiet escape back downstairs. “Aha, there’s my daughter. I went looking for you,” Michael laughs. 

“Ya found me! Now shower, Papa Bear. You stink too.”

“On it,” he giggles with a salute and continues on up the stairs. There’s a rumble, as Michael pulls out his clothes. His ears pick up on the distant but not too far away rumble of thunder. He didn’t think the storm was that close. But when you mentioned getting back to your parents back, he knew he shouldn’t wait on it. 

The steam’s already billowing when Michael cracks open the door. Your pile of clothes on the sink counter. Your humming settles into Michael’s chest as he peels himself out of the trunks and sweaty t-shirt. It’s not clear if it’s a song or just content humming, but he enjoys the sound either way. 

“Got space for one more?” He asks. 

You peek out from the curtain and grin. “Of course I do.” 

You step away from the water, letting Michael in front as you lather soap over your chest and arms. It shouldn’t be this much of a shock. He shouldn’t be in such awe watching you. But he is. That’s just the plain truth of it. It doesn’t feel like it’s been nearly 12 years together. It doesn’t feel like it took you two years to have your first kid. It doesn’t feel like you’ve been there for three albums, three insane tours, two kids, a couple foster kittens, the two dogs, some nasty scandals. No, you’ve just been there for the blink of an eye. You’ve been there late in the nights when Michael couldn’t sleep, when that song wouldn’t let him go. You peeled him away from the video games, and though he’s been slowly introducing Trey and Orion into his hobby, you brought him into a realm of reality that he didn’t feel like he had to constantly escape. 

“Is there something on my face?” you ask, watching the way Michael’s been standing under the sprinkle of the shower staring at you. 

“Yeah, you look a lot like my spouse. And I still can’t believe it.”

“That’s funny. You look a lot like my husband. But I swear, it’s been like twelve years since I’ve seen him.”

His fingers are wet, but they’re soft cupping your chin. “I hope I’m a good stand in.”

You shake your head, one of your sudsy hand cupping the back of his neck. “Not a good stand in. Because you’re the best original I’ve ever had.”

The tender confession warms on his entire body. His chest squeezes for a moment and all there is to do is kiss you, pull you in close by your hip and melt into your touch. Michael’s grateful it’s you that he’s spent this last decade with. Anyone else and he’s sure it would’ve gone poorly. But not with you, with you it’s easy--sure there are issues here and there, but you’ve never once wanted to go to bed mad at each other. You haven’t once, even in all the tears and justified anger, felt like the only choice for you was to run. You dug your heels even deeper when the seas got rocky and said over and over with your actions that you weren’t going to leave. 

And sure, there was a couple times that leaving did seem like a more viable option, when rumors kept churning the mill and when it seemed like Michael would never come back home to you. But you stuck it out. You figured out a way to make it work and Michael can’t be more grateful that it's been you. “I love you,” he breathes as the water runs down his back. It’s starting to lose its heat. But he’s warm with you close. 

“I love you. Even if you ‘tink,” you tease, using the variation of stink that you used to coo at the kids when they were babies. 

He laughs, a bit of a squeak leaving his throat. “I do not ‘tink!”

“Hmm, I’d beg to differ.” 

You steal Michael’s sweatshirt, fresh from your shower and before he can object your mother is calling. “Dinner’s ready!” Her shout is greeted by another rumble of thunder. 

“I’m only letting this thievery go because of food,” Michael says to you. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure. It’s not because I’m sexier in your clothes.”

Michael shrugs, a slight noise of agreement leaving his throat. “Potentially.” He stops you right at the top of the stairs, kissing your forehead, down the bridge of your nose and across your cheeks.

Your giggles are high pitched and you’re clutching at his t-shirt trying to curl up and duck away from the affection. “I’m hungry,” you pout, the smell of the tacos floating up from the kitchen now. 

“Oh, dear, let’s get you to some food, stat.”

The dinner is an array of shells, soft or hard, meat, and toppings--ranging from sour cream to hot sauce. You help assemble Treyvon’s plate, only to sneak a couple dabs of the hot sauce for him and he kisses your cheeks. “Thanks,” he whispers. 

“Anytime, bub.” 

Your parents asks about the beach with Trey and Orion are more than happy to recount. They list off who won footraces and how many laps they did in the water. Trey talks about the jellyfish he countered and Orion talks about the shells she collected. Your parents listen carefully, no doubt having heard of all these adventures already. 

“But we had to leave early because the storm,” Orion concludes. The thunder’s been rumbling steadily. You’re not sure if lightning is going to accompany this storm. The windows that are drawn are showing just how dark the skies are and how fast the clouds are rolling in. The rain hasn’t fallen yet, but it’s going to be soon. 

“Blanket fort?” you ask as the kids drop their plates off near the sink. 

“We need cookies,” Trey counters. You can only laugh but have to agree. “Blanket forts require cookies.”

“Let’s clean up first. One mess at a time.”

“One mess at a time,” Trey echoes and takes up the dishrag ready to dry all the utensils that come down from the washing rack. The kitchen assembly line works effectively. You wash as Trey dries. Orion helps put some dishes up where she can reach and Michael floats, drying the larger pots and pans and putting them up for Orion as well. 

Your parents, after the kitchen is cleaned, head up to their room but you take over preheating the oven and figuring which cookies the kids want. Orion takes charge on placing them on the cookie sheet, making sure her sugar cookies are delicately spaced. A loud rumble echoes outside the house and the rain isn’t slow to fail either. It cascades down in sheets and you think it’s definitely a good time to build a blanket fort in the living room. The darkness isn’t thick itself--there’s still an undercurrent of blue in the gray that’s taken over the sky. The rain blurs the outside world, as if your eyes are out of focus. 

Michael’s chuckles alert you that he’s already getting started on rearranging the living room. Orion hugs onto your leg and lower waist as you both look out to the storm. “I want to run in the storm.”

You rub your hand over her back. “You’d get your favorite pj’s all wet and then you’d have to shower again.”

“I know. But that’s okay.” There’s a harsh strike of lightning and Orion shakes her head. “On second thought, maybe not.”

“Oh maybe not,” you laugh and turn your attention to the living room. The fort is coming together. Though the dogs are doing their best to attack the sheets and blankets. And for the moment, you’re not at your parents house anymore. You’re not standing in your childhood kitchen. You’re at home. You’re laughing at your husband’s attempts at building a blanket fort being thwarted by your own dogs. 

“We need a movie!” Trey shouts, popping out from the inside of the fort, one pillow still clutched in his grasp.

“Yes!” Orion agrees. 

You hadn’t necessarily planned on a movie night. But thankfully, you’re better with passwords than your husband and you know from having to troubleshoot with your parents over FaceTime that their TV does have the Netflix app already downloaded. You’re not sure if they’ve logged in or not. “Thank goodness for technology,” you laugh but nod at the request. 

The timer for the cookie’s finally chimes and you pull them out of the oven. They’re perfectly golden, filling the whole kitchen with the smell of baked vanilla and sugar. Orion gets a plate of cookies as does Trey. The rain is still falling in sheets, hitting the panes and side of the house and coating the background in a white noise, a constant and steady sound. Michael’s turned out of the main lights to the living room, leaving on the soft table lamp that can’t fully bleed due to the sheets, but it cuts through just enough. 

You and Michael settle towards the back of the fort, the kids laying on their pillows as you pull up the app. It takes a few minutes to settle onto a movie. Michael jokingly suggests a scary movie but Orion’s adamant against it through Trey looks intrigued. Michael winks at him, noticing the twinkle in his eye. Orion no doubt won’t make it past the first movie and when she falls asleep, Michael knows you’ll put it up to a pure vote. Trey nods at his dad and let’s the choice for the animated Spiderverse movie be the family friendly win of the night. 

Michael’s hold around your waist is reassuring and you rest more weight into him. “Look, I’m voting no on a scary movie. But if something happens after I’m asleep and Trey has nightmares, it’s on you.”

“There’s nothing that gets past you, huh?”

“Of course not. I see,” a yawn interrupts your thought, “everything.”

“Can’t see nothing with your eyes closed.”

“I can see perfectly fine with my eyes closed,” you retort. Michael doesn’t say anything when you snuggle deeper into his side, arms winding around his torso. The kids giggle, even dance along to some of the songs in the soundtrack. Michael watches them, a smile on his face. These are his kids. They can sometimes butt head in ways he hadn’t ever imagined kids could do, he’s happy that they’re his. Orion acts out Doc Oc’s big reveal scene and Trey’s laughter keeps him from acting seriously. 

The dogs catch onto the ruckus and start to investigate but when neither Orion or Trey given in too seriously they settle back down. And it’s just his kiddos, being the absolute joy that they are, acting alongside a film they’ve seen way too many times. But no matter how many times they beg for it, or agree on it, they love it all the same. There’s still the same wonder and awe like the first time they saw it. 

“Let me guess,” you start, eyes still closed. “Orion’s Doc Oc. Trey’s Miles, you’re Peter Parker and I’m just the old person in the corner half asleep.”

“Close. I’m the old man in the corner with his spouse, so you know, two old folks today.”

“Damn,” you giggle, slowly opening your eyes. “I’ll get it next time.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Definitely next time.” 

It’s only in the silence of the credits fully rolled that, Michael notices that the storm’s mostly passed. It’s still dark, and there’s still a soft patter of rain, but it seems the brunt of it has come and gone. Orion’s crawled up into your lap and you’ve turned, curling up around her. It won’t be long before the two of you fall back into sleep. 

Trey grins, but follows behind Michael as they take the plates and place them into the sink to be washed from the sugary goodness. “Thanks,” Michael grins taking the plate Trey’s carrying. 

“You’re welcome, Dad. How scary are we gonna get?”

“How scared do you wanna be?”

“I ain’t scared.”

Michael can’t help the laughter that shakes his shoulder, watching Trey puff out his chest. “Well, we’ll definitely see about that.” 

Trey nods defiantly at his father. He can handle scary things. It’s not even real in the end. Once the dishes are done, they slide back into the blanket fort and Trey lays across his pillow again as Michael browses the horror section. If you were awake, you would’ve snatched the remote by now and landed him with stern glare. He knows that you sneak the hot sauce. And he’s sure you know he sneaks things too. What would be the point of it all if their kids didn’t feel safe and understood? Sure, it probably doesn’t make sense to sneak like this and the two of you could have an adult conversation. But sometimes it’s nice. It’s just a thing that him and Trey have. Because they kids need that. They need a thing that they have just with one parent, so that they always know that they’re going to be there. 

They eventually settle on a movie. It’s not too scary, but the introduction definitely pushes the boundaries on the amount of gore that Michael would normally let slide. As it progress, the blood volume reduces. It’s mostly jumpscares that the movie relies on, but one or two even get Michael. Trey sits up and without much thought Michael leans forward. Not to swoop in just yet but hovering close by, just in case. There’s a lull in the plot, and Trey seems to relax. 

“Want to call it quits?” Michael asks.

“Like ten more minutes,” Treyvon offers. It’s not too bad, but it does scare him just a little bit. And it’s mostly that beginning. He’s used to movies that start a little slower on the whole gore thing and this one started right out of the gate. He’s not sure if ten more minutes is the smartest idea. But the end has to be coming up soon. He can hold out for just a little bit longer. Though, as it progress, that uneasy feeling creeps back up. Trey turns and finds his father’s hand already stretched out. 

“Done?”

Treyvon shakes his head. It’s a small comfort to settle into his dad’s lap. “How much more time is left?”

With a quick pause, Michael reveals they still have half an hour left. “Still a good chunk of time left.”

“Can we take a break?”

“Yeah of course.” Michael exits the movie completely letting the Netflix homepage fill the screen of the TV. Treyvon exhales, burying his face into Michael’s chest. “I’m sorry. Didn’t seem so bad.”

“Not your fault,” Trey mumbles. 

Michael runs his hand over Trey’s back, holding him tight and secure to his body. “You’re safe. I’m here. And there’s Southy and Moose to protect you too.”

“Dad, I love them. But they’re old,” Trey laughs.  

“Oh, Moose,” Michael pauses on the thought. “No, come to think of it, she’d roll over for pets in a heart beat.”

“See!” Treyvon giggles. 

“Palette cleanse. Let’s watch some cartoons.”

“Maybe we can finish that movie in the morning?”

“If you’re up for it,” Michael agrees. Michael won’t bring it up unless Treyvon does; it was kind of intense from the start and it’s no fault of Treyvon if he doesn’t want to finish it now or in the morning. They watch another hour of cartoons before Michael can tell Treyvon’s fallen asleep. He could wake you, carry both kids to the bed and properly sleep through the night. Or Michael can let one more episode pass of the show and then turn it off, leaving on the soft lamp and letting himself fall asleep too, just slide down to the floor and bring a pillow up for Treyvon while he keeps close by. 

“Not going upstairs?” you ask softly into Michael’s ear. 

“You feel like carrying either child upstairs?”

With a soft giggle, you kiss his cheek. “Absolutely not.” You settle behind Michael, back pressed into his as you keep an eye on Orion curled up on her pillow and find one the spare sheets to drape over her. 

Michael knows someone’s staring at him. He can feel the fire behind the gaze even if he’s eyes are still closed. If it were one of the kids, they’d be poking at his face or arms, or stomach. Instead it’s just a stare, just the hairs along his neck standing up on end. “If I’m in trouble, can I have a cup of coffee first?”

“A scary movie? Michael, really?”

It’s right on the tip of his tongue to make a joke that the omission of the nickname babe is much too severe for one scary movie. But if he says that, it’s going to reveal the whole secret. “We did a palette cleanse. I was up the entire time.” Michael blinks open his eyes to see you, kneeling next to him. The kids are missing from the fort. The clink of forks alerts him that they’re probably eating breakfast. 

“He’s been quiet the whole morning. Which is not like Trey at all. You say no to hot sauce but yes to a fucking horror film.” Your voice is firm but a whisper. 

“You say yes to hot sauce and no to horror films.”

While Michael’s right, and you don’t want him to be, you know you don’t have a full leg to stand on. Sighing you fall to your butt, hugging your knees to your chest. “Fix it. I don’t care how. Don’t care if it’s ice cream at every meal. But I need my son back and you agreed to the horror film.”

It’s a fair call and Michael nods, finally sitting up from the floor. “On it. Also, good morning.”

You huff, and swat at his butt as he crawls out from the fort. “Good morning to you too, angel.”

He giggles at the sickly sweet sarcasm but pads into the kitchen. Both kids sit, eating at their waffles and bacon. “Morning, Papa Bear!” Orion greets with a bright grin. Michael kisses the top of her head and squeezes Treyvon’s shoulder. 

The boy is slow to meet the gaze and mumble out a greeting. Michael knows it’s bad. He probably should’ve turned the movie off after the first fifteen minutes. Orion’s finished first and gets excused from the table. The thud of Michael’s coffee cup echoes for a moment. “How’d you sleep?” Michael asks. 

“Okay.” There’s a pause and Trey looks up from his plate. “Movie was a little scarier than I thought,” he whispers, glancing into the living room, trying to keep the secret from you. 

“It’s okay. It scared me a little too at times.”

“I think Mom knows something. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Michael ruffles Treyvon’s hair. “Bud, the only one getting into trouble might be me. But not you. You got my permission to watch the movie, so it wasn’t like you disobeyed anyone and you didn’t break a rule. I just picked not the best film for us to watch. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you that badly with the film.”

There’s not a rule against scary movies. Most of your objection is just Trey’s age and wanting to wait until he’s a bit older. However, Michael knows that sometimes a good scare isn’t that bad. Besides, the movies normally get vetted by him first. Michael looks through them to see which ones are too violent or not appropriate for kids. And last night, on a slightly last minute decision, Michael made a call and it was just the wrong one. That’s his mistake not Trey’s. 

Treyvon nods at Michael’s apology. “I-I don’t want to finish it. I wanted to look strong, but,” he shakes his head. “I don’t--”

Michael nods. “No problem. We can watch more cartoons, get some ice cream at lunch.”

“Mint chocolate?”

“With all the sprinkles your tummy can handle it,” Michael grins. 

“Add gummy bears and it’s a deal.”

Michael thinks for a second, running a hand over his beard. It’s an instant yes. But he pretends for just a moment. “Alright, you drive a hard bargain. Gummy bears too.”

Treyvon’s quick to finish his breakfast. “Thanks, Dad. For like understanding and everything about the movie. And, I know you didn’t mean to pick such a scary movie. I’m-I’m just glad you were there.”

“I’m always going to be there, Treyvon. Always. I’m your dad. I’m always going to be there.”

Trey slips down from the chair and hugs Michael. “Thanks.”

“Of course. You’re welcome.”

[chevrolangels]

When My Time Comes

death!cas,  3.3k

Continuing my tradition of posting ~spooky~ fics for Halloween, here’s a little thing with Death!Cas. I know we’re all freaking out with spn ending and a possible looming end for our fave so I hope this is a nice little au reprieve. The title is from 'Work Song' by Hozier, bc I needed to use one of his lyrics for a title eventually.

Enjoy.

read on ao3

The first time Castiel met him, he was crying.

 He beat out with his tiny fists, and his father dragged him away, but not before he managed to swipe at Castiel. His hand passed through him like mist, and Castiel felt a shock, like he had been plunged in icy water. 

 Castiel extended a hand, and he and Mary Winchester walked into the afterlife together.

 “Your son is a feisty one,” he told her.

“Good,” Mary replied. “He'll have to be without his mama.”

◆

“I know what you are.”

A man—boy, really—his hands clenched. He stared at Castiel, anger staining his soul. 

Castiel knew those eyes.

“You’re a reaper,” the man accused.

Castiel did not deny it.

 He simply stood, withdrawing his hands from the body in the alley. 

“That’s one word for what I am.”

The words dragged like rust in Castiel’s throat. It had been some time since he last spoke.

 “I've been searching for you. For years.” 

Castiel looked away, and said nothing. 

 The boy eyed him for several silent moments.

“Why can I see you?” 

 Castiel told him honestly. 

“I don't know.”

 Some of the tension bled from the boy’s shoulders.

“You got a name?” He asked gruffly.

 Castiel nodded.

“My name is Castiel.”

The boy took an abortive step forward, his fingers outstretched. Castiel did not move. 

He reached the outline of where Castiel’s shoulder should be, but touched nothing but air.

His hand dropped. 

“I’m Dean,” he said finally. “Dean Winchester.”

 “I know,” Castiel answered softly. “Hello, Dean.”

◇

“Why can't I touch you?” He asked, the next time they met.

 “Would you like to?”

 Dean thought for a moment, his brow furrowed.

“Yes.”

 Castiel stepped past Dean’s grandfather, lying sick in his bed. Castiel had never done it before, but he saw no reason why it wouldn’t be possible. He extended his arm and thought very hard.

He felt himself solidify, and Dean reached out tentatively, as if Castiel were poisonous. He touched the back of his hand.

His fingers were hot, searing flame, burning brighter than anything Castiel had ever known.

 Until, that is, Dean punched him in the face.

“That was for my ma,” he said.

◆

“I do not cause death,” Castiel said, many months later. “I am merely the link between worlds.”

 Dean lifted his head, shock crossing his pale face. 

“You again.”

His voice was hoarse, weakened through many nights of grief. Tragedy had once again come to their small community, and Castiel could feel Dean’s soul still aching from it.

Castiel stepped forward, looking at the cold form lying before Dean, life now burnt out.

“You were not related to this man,” he said, almost a question.

“No,” Dean answered shortly. 

“Ah.” 

 Castiel looked away. Even after all this time, the nuances of humanity still escaped him.

The silence between them stretched. Castiel furrowed his brow, searching for the appropriate words to use. 

“I’m sorry.”

 Dean said nothing, but his eyes widened, betraying his surprise.

“Dean.” 

Another entered the room, long hair skimming over reddened eyes.

“They want us outside,” the newcomer said, thin, tall, even younger than Dean. “You know. To say a few words.”

 His request was thick, choked. Castiel looked back from his face to Dean’s. Their pain was great, and shared. 

“Yeah, be there soon, Sammy,” Dean answered in a low voice, never taking his eyes off Castiel.

 The boy waited for a moment, eyes sliding towards the spot where Castiel stood, where to him was only empty space.

“You’re not still seeing ghosts, are you?” He asked, smiling wanly. 

His soul flickered, strangely dim. 

“Nah,” Dean answered quietly.

They did not speak after that, even after the boy left the room. Some time later, Dean left too, with a quick nod toward Castiel, so brief he might have missed it.

Castiel watched him go.

Robert Singer sighed, a wistful smile on his face.

“Well,” he said, turning to Castiel. “We’d better get goin’, huh?”

 Castiel nodded.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Let’s.”

◇

Revolution came. Blood ran through the streets and voices cried out in the dawn, the sound of shouts and guns being fired. 

 Dean lay slumped against a building, bleeding in the dirt—a wound in his thigh that desperately needed a doctor. Castiel waited by the dying body of Dean’s compatriot, watching soldiers run past.

Dean saw him and his face went pale.

 “Well, Castiel,” he murmured. “You comin’ to finish me off?”

 He knew. He knew if Castiel was there, it was already too late.

 He passed out soon after from the blood loss. Dean was not to die yet, but soon. Thirty minutes maybe, a stray bullet to the head. He would feel nothing. 

Castiel thought for a moment. Then he did something he was not allowed to do. 

 He picked up the dead comrade’s helmet and slipped it over Dean’s head, brushing the hair back from his glassy green eyes. Then Castiel gently laid him back against the building.

 “Not yet, Dean Winchester,” he whispered.

◆

Castiel was not sure why he did it. But nothing happened. No fire, no brimstone, no splitting of the fabric of time. Whatever cosmic consequences he had incurred lay quiet.

In the hospital, many died. Castiel checked on him frequently. By the seventh death, he was awake.

"Castiel," he whispered. “Cas.”

 The nurse hushed him and quickly turned up his medicine. Dean slipped back under—but not before he grabbed Castiel’s hand.

In sleep, he burns cooler, the swirling ocean during a storm.

◇

Dean sat there, sunken eyes, in a wheelchair. 

War brings out the demons inside.

"Y'know, I'm startin' to think you're following me."

 Castiel frowned. 

"You do not know this man. I believe you are the one following me."

"Yeah, well." Dean turned his head away, scratching at a cheek covered in rough stubble. "I had to thank you, didn't I?"

 Castiel hesitated.

"I did nothing."

"Sure."

 Dean picked at the edge of his bandage. A couple weeks and he'd be able to walk again. 

 "All I'm saying is, it's pretty nice I got the angel of death as my friend."

Castiel let out a small derisive sound.

"I am not an angel."

"Then what are you?"

Castiel thought for a moment.

"I'm not sure."

 Then, something in his words registered. Castiel looked at him curiously. 

 "Friend?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Friend."

◆

Dean was not there when Castiel took his father. They hadn't spoken in years.

 “So that’s it,” John said flatly.

Castiel nodded.

“Yes.”

 John was silent for a long moment. 

“Guess there’s no talking my way outta this one,” he muttered. “No more deals to make.”

Castiel slowly shook his head.

 John looked back at his own body, tears welling in his eyes.

“Miss my boys,” he mumbled. “I shoulda...shoulda done more. Shoulda done right by them.”

He sighed, staring blankly at his hands.

“Guess it’s too late now.”

 Castiel spoke softly.

“Your son is a fine man.”

“Yeah?” John turned, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

 Castiel avoided his eyes, holding out a hand.

"Come," he said. "Mary is waiting."

◇

"How come I see you so much?”

"Death is everywhere.”

"Then how come your name isn't...y'know. Death?” 

 "There are many old names for things. Everything changes with time."

Silence sat between them, comfortable yet steady.

"Is there a god?" 

"Why would you ask me that?" 

"Dunno. Figured if there was, they'd be your boss."

"If there is, I've never met them.”

“Huh. Told Sammy as much. He still thinks you don’t exist, by the way.”

“People find it hard to believe things they cannot see.”

“Mmm.”

“It’s something I have wondered, many times, Yet it remains mysterious, even to me." 

 Castiel looked down at his hands, the means of his lonely burden.

 "I am merely the ferryman,” he murmured. 

Dean nudged his shoulder.

"So the Greeks were right then?"

"What?"

 Dean rolled his eyes.

 "Never mind."

◆

When his next-door neighbor died on his kitchen floor, Castiel visited Dean. 

He was crying. 

“Dean.”

 He looked up slowly, eyes unfocused.

“My dad’s dead,” he mumbled. Castiel nodded.

“I know.”

 “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Castiel shrugged slowly.

 “I hadn't talked to him,” Dean said, a confession. “Not in years.”

“He mentioned you.”

Dean dropped his head back in his hands, shoulders shaking. Rather than comfort, Castiel’s words seemed to have the opposite effect.

 Castiel stood still for several long moments.

Then he knelt, reached out, and touched his cheek.

Tears clung to Dean’s lashes. He looked up at Castiel, shattered, laid bare, his rough exterior finally split open.

 Dean leaned forward, lips parting.

 This soft, broken man was the edge of a knife, a precipice for which there could be no coming back.

   Castiel brushed a thumb over the freckles dusting his skin—wheat and honey stars in a milky sky. 

And he kissed him.

◇

Dean still burns cool in his sleep. But they've evened out, and now, he feels like warm summer rain in Castiel’s arms. He has stopped shivering when Castiel holds him.

 “What do I look like?” Castiel whispers one night.

They do not have much time left. Castiel has been reckless, pushing the limits further and further each time he stays. He cannot begin to imagine what danger might come from his disobedience.

 “You don't know?”

Dean smiles, and starts to trace the lines of his face.

“You look human. Sorta.”

His fingers dance down Castiel’s jaw, sweeping across his chin.

“But...I look at you, and know you're not...y’know?” He laughs softly. “I can just tell. You're made of something else.”

Dean’s hands skim across Castiel’s bare throat.

“When you’re wearing clothes,” he continues, a hint of mischief in his tone. “It’s always the same ugly-ass coat.”

Castiel makes a small indignant sound.

“It is not ugly.”

“Just saying.”

Dean grins, loose and easy, tangling his fingers in Castiel’s own.

“You could rock the whole badass look. Black cloak, scythe—the whole deal.”

“The scythe was quite cumbersome,” Castiel deadpans.

 Dean looks at him for a moment until he realizes Castiel’s joking—and he laughs.

“And you got one hell of a sense of humor,” he murmurs, leaning in.

 Castiel accepts the kiss, closing his eyes. Despite all he’s seen, all he’s suffered, Dean is still so full of love. The resilience of humans will never fail to astound Castiel, but Dean is something else. 

He pulls back, smiling softly, then reaches up, tugging at Castiel’s hair. 

“This is brown. Really dark brown, almost black. Way darker than mine.” 

Dean looks at him, lowering his voice.

“Your eyes are blue, and they're the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.”

 Castiel catches his hand, pressing a small kiss to his palm.

Dean’s smile fades as he watches Castiel, his chest rising and falling slowly. Castiel’s does not. 

He does not breathe.

 “When I gonna die, Cas?” Dean whispers.

 Castiel goes still. 

Dean searches his face. 

“C’mon,” he says, a slight shake in his voice. “You gotta know.”

Castiel looks at him, and realizes he does not. 

 “I don't,” he says, shocking himself with the words. 

Dean doesn't heed him, barreling on.

“Because when I die, I mean what if—”

He stops, fear in his eyes.

“What if I never see you again?” Dean whispers.

 Castiel cradles Dean’s face in his hand, shaking his head, opening his mouth to whisper false words of comfort. 

That's when he feels a tug at the edges of his being, and he’s being pulled halfway across the world, to the next death. 

 The last thing Castiel sees are Dean’s panicked green eyes, before everything turns to black.

◆

“SAM, NO—”

Dean runs, his scream rending the night air.

“No, no, Sammy—”

He reaches Sam just before he collapses, dropping with him in the wet dirt. 

“Dean—” Sam chokes out, as the perpetrator runs away with his crime into the dark. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Hey, hey, no—it’s okay, alright?” Dean tries to pull him up, support him, even as Sam falls to his knees, slumping forward. “You’re fine—it’s fine, it’s not even that bad, it’s not—”

Dean cuts off. He lifts a shaky hand from the wet patch spreading over Sam’s back, seeing it come away covered in slick red.

“Shit,” he breathes lowly.

Sam says something, jagged and garbled in his throat. Dean shushes him, hands coming to his face. 

“No, no, Sammy, you’re gonna be fine—we faced worse before, you just need to—”

 Sam’s face is ashen white, his eyes starting to slip closed. Dean gasps back a choked breath.

 “C’mon, Sammy,” he begs. “Come on.”

He looks around, to cry for help, for something, anything—

And he sees Castiel.

 “No,” Dean breathes.

  “I'm sorry, Dean,” Castiel whispers.

  “No,” Dean snarls again, gripping the back of his brother's jacket.

He doesn't have long. Samuel Winchester’s heart is pushing the blood out of him, slowly but surely. It won't take more than a few minutes.

   Castiel takes a few steps forward, but Dean jerks back, dragging Sam backward, shielding him with his own body. 

 Dean meets Castiel’s eyes. He's broken. 

“No, Cas,” he whispers. “Please, no.”

Castiel’s hands tremble.

“I have to.”

Sam breathes in raggedly.

“Just a few more years,” Dean whispers. “Please.”

“I can’t,” Castiel answers softly. “Death demands life.”

“One year, just one year, c’mon, at least give him something—”

Dean stops, choking back sobs. His breath spirals silently into the night air, the ground slick with rain and blood.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel murmurs.

 He kneels beside them and places a hand on Sam’s forehead. 

Dean watches, bone-white and utterly defeated. 

Sam gasps.

“Dean,” he murmurs. “I...I see him.”

 Dean looks down at him, shocked out of his stupor.

“Y-yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Sam whispers. “Your angel...Cas.” 

Dean nods silently, tears dripping down thick and fast.

“He was real after all,” Sam mumbles, his head drooping onto Dean's chest.

 Dean stares down at his brother’s pale face, hands clenched in the loose folds of his jacket.

Seconds, now.

 Castiel closes his eyes. He has no heart, but he’s sure this is what it feels like when it breaks. 

“Take me.”

Castiel looks up sharply.

Dean’s jaw is set, his eyes are firm. 

 “Take me instead,” he orders again.

Castiel stutters, fear constricting his throat.

“Dean, I—”

 He stops, shaking his head. 

“I can’t,” he whispers.

“Bullshit, you can’t,” Dean spits back. “You saved me.”

 “I—”

 His argument dies in his throat. 

As Castiel beholds him, stares into Dean’s eyes—his fate is murky, the truth to Castiel lost in shadow.

  Dean reaches out, catching the edge of Castiel’s sleeve.

"Please," he begs. "Please, Cas."

  Castiel shudders, and looks back to Sam’s pale face.

“And you would leave him here alone?” He swallows thickly. “Without you.”

 Dean is silent for a long moment. When Castiel finally musters the courage to look back at him, his normally carefree face is drawn tight, resignation heavy on his shoulders.

“I ain’t supposed to be here, Cas,” he whispers. “I felt it. Ever since…”

 Castiel knows. 

Ever since he ripped up the rules, leaving nothing.

  “I was supposed to die,” Dean says quietly. “Maybe I should. “

Sam’s breathing slows, his face grows slack.

Dean tightens his grip, knuckles white. 

“It’ll be hard for him at first,” he breathes, looking down at Sam. “For—for both of us. But I know he’ll understand.”

 Castiel cannot think. Dean cannot fathom what he’s asking of him.

 “Cas.”

 Dean’s voice breaks on his name.

“Cas—please,” he whispers. 

A soft touch on his cheek.

 “We’ll see each other again,” Dean breathes, swallowing thickly. “R-right?”

Castiel folds his hand over Dean’s. 

“Right,” he whispers, but he’s not sure if it's true.

He slowly places his other hand on Sam’s, and looks up into Dean’s eyes. He nods, just once.

Sam bolts upright, just as Dean slumps over, the light fading from his eyes.

 Castiel sags, the transfer of energy leaving him weak. It's like watching a film in reverse—Sam rises dazedly, and when he understands what has occurred, he is the one now shaking his brother’s lifeless body, agony in his voice.

“Dean!” He calls, looking around wildly. “Castiel, you son of a bitch, don’t you dare—bring him back—”

He continues raging, cursing Castiel in one breath and begging for help in the next.

 “I’m sorry, Sam,” Dean whispers.

Sam stills, hiccuping.

“Be good, alright?” Dean continues softly. “You keep fighting. And take care of my wheels.”

Sam drops his head, stifling a choked laugh. Dean smiles, sad and bittersweet.

“Remember what Dad taught you, okay?” He murmurs. “And what I taught you.”

 Behind them, a soft white light begins to glow, banishing the obscure dark. Sam does not notice, or see. He is too caught up in his grief, mourning over a now-empty shell.

The universe demanded the soul of a Winchester, and it got one. Yet a life traded for another cannot move on. 

Castiel knows this. 

Beside him, Dean’s hand finds his.

Castiel shivers. Not candle-warm, like the other souls he’s helped cross over. Dean’s hand is as cold as his own.

 “Let's go, Cas,” Dean whispers. “I can't see this.”

They turn away, Castiel giving one last look to the brother they’re leaving behind.

 And they walk forward into the light.

◆◇

Castiel’s work has always been demanding. Souls dying everywhere across the globe, some within the same second. 

 With two, the job is somewhat easier. 

◇◆

She opens her eyes. She must’ve slipped under again, a brief respite from the pain.

She sits up and is surprised to find the motion does not hurt her. In fact, nothing hurts anymore. Instead, she feels only lightness.

“Well, you sure took your sweet time.”

   She turns, startled to see a man standing at the foot of her bed.

He clicks his tongue, pulling back the edge of a leather glove to tap a shining watch on his wrist.

“We’re late enough as it is,” he says expectantly. “And I don’t got all day, seeing as my brother’ll kill me if I don’t get to visit him again.”

He thinks a moment, then chuckles, a wry smile playing around his lips.

“Well.” He smirks. “He would if he could.”

 She blinks a few times, bewildered.

“Who are you?” 

 The man ignores her question, removing his gloves completely. He’s tall, impeccably dressed in a dark suit and black cloak. 

“Tessa, right?”

He smiles, extending a hand.

On his fourth finger is a ring, white ivory in a square setting.

 Tessa doesn’t move.

“I’m dead.”

 The man winks.

“Bingo,” he answers. “Or ‘condolences’, as Cas would say.”

 Before she can ask what that's supposed to mean, the man quickly checks his watch again, speaking brusquely.

“Okay, but seriously, come on.” He jerks his head, nodding over his shoulder. You’d think we’d have all the time in the world, but turns out we run on a very tight schedule.”

Tessa eyes him warily.

“And...where are we going?” 

“Y’know.” The man gestures vaguely. “On. As they say.”

“On,” she repeats.

 The man smirks.

“Yeah. Dust in the wind and all that.”

She frowns.

“What?”

“It’s a—” The man stops, waving an impatient hand. “You know what—never mind.”

 He turns, beckoning once again. Seeing no other option, Tessa falls into step beside him. 

Before them is a warm silver light, growing brighter by the second.

They reach the threshold of what seems to be a shimmering door, a gateway.

Tessa takes a deep breath. Despite everything, she is not afraid. 

 She looks back at her strange shepherd, gathering her courage.

“So.”

He glances up, raising an eybrow.

“You’re Death,” she says.

 The man chuckles, once again pulling on his black gloves.  

"Sure am," he answers, smiling. "Well—"

He shrugs.

"One of them, anyway.”

 He turns, holding a hand out for her to shake.

“You can call me Dean.”

◆◇

[frostysfrenzy]

Smallville chronicles part 62 (Chloe's chronicles pun very much intended. But no I've never seen them) warning, there's a lot going on. Fortune. You get me. Carry on

Oh boy its lionel

"Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated" LIONEL YOU LITERALLY DIED 3 YEARS AGO YOU WERE SHOVED OFF A ROOF YOU FOOL

"What. No hug for your long lost daddy" I'll give E2 Lionel one thing. He amuses

The way Chloe is just laying on top of, admiring Oliver as he sleeps. I used to not like her all that much (way back in like season 1 and 2) now I want what she's got

Did I really just say that? Oh boy I've officially lost it

Also love that they've set up their bed in the middle of watchtower

Wait so uh, watchtower was bought by Jimmy. Lol this isn't weird at all

I'm going to stop because you know. I'm insane

I could take quotes from this Chloe Ollie bed scene but I'd be quoting the entire damn thing so I'll just leave it

Go mama K!!

Mama K??

Martha really just ripped off her sling

Chloe considers Martha as her mom!!

Oliver's non green arrow undercover outfit

Lois trying to make sure her muffins get noticed

"Lois. Don't worry. I've been impressed with you for years"

"That is so low rent and so rebel"

"Well what father doesnt want to make his son happy" he says after Lex tells him killing him was the greatest moment of his life

Chloe's outfit 😂

"That explains the smell of old spice and young ambition"

"I just need you to hack into a couple national news websites" "how many?" "All of them"

"You're a convicted felon" oh but so are you Lionel

"Well snow dad's been a little frosty lately right? Maybe we should figure out a different way to get that genie back in the bottle"

Mama K defending her son!!

"How can you be so good Clark?"

The way Clark whipped Lionel across the ground after pulling him from the mansion

The Luthor mansion burning to the ground was not something I expected to see ever

Lois and Chloe taking their stand against the vra!!!

"You have no idea how much you mean to people Clark Kent" my heart!!

"I saw me, I mean Clark Kent, disguised with glasses and a bad haircut"

Mama bear Tess!

Ok well.... that's peachy

"Look Clark. I want to plan this wedding as much as I wanna jump off of a building"

"Please tell me you didn't hop across the pond for a gallon of milk" "what makes you think I'd be in England?" Clark you're standing on Big Ben

"That better be some damn good milk Smallville" "Smallville. I must be in trouble"

"I think Oliver Queen would be an absolute fool to let someone like you get away" there is not a single Chlollie scene I don't enjoy

"I feel like I can't believe you did this to my jacket" I mean yeah it's terrible but it's somehow better

"You are going global now, which is awesome quite frankly"

"Why don't I just save you the trouble and superspeed out all on my own, ok. Whoosh"

"A phone call from your wife, Mr Jones"

*trying to keep it together* "hello dear"

"It's an adrenaline thing. See I'm little bit bigger than you"

Ok that whole Clark's telescopic visions with his eyes changing. Why are we just getting this now?

"You know, when I said I wanted to spoon earlier, this isn't really what I had in mind"

"This is definitely the most romantic of my recent kidnappings"

"Yeah he's right, we should probably introduce ourselves" *takes them all out**Chloe knocks dude out with a book*

That kiss after they kicked ass

"The last thing we want is a billionaire superhero ex fugitive kicking down the door of a sex club"

My ninja baby Oliver

"Don't leave goldilocks out in the cold"

"Should we just serve up charcoal too"

"It's my power I can call it whatever I want"

"Now stay put" "like hell" come on Clark you should've known there was no chance Ollie would

"You just have to act like you're re miserable" "that shouldn't be a problem"

"When they see this adorable blond, and you are, on this adorable blond's arm" I love Ollie calling himself an adorable blond. I mean, he's not wrong

NO OLLIE NOOOOO why did he have to get tagged

Ok I've arrived at what I've heard is one of the best eps of the series so I'm excited. But still scared for Ollie

I nearly pissed myself when Clark woke up with a lemur on him

He has a ring on 😂😂 Chloe?? I'm crying laughing already

*throws chip bag in closet for lemur*

What is Chloe's dress?

"Yeah well my memory etch a sketch is blank too"

Chloe just goes in public in this weird ass wedding dress

"Are those Emil's pants?"

"Holy matrimony that's my signature"

Clark runs into the wall

😂😂😂😂😂

"Well Emil always was an overachiever"

Emil and Tess duet 😂😂

"I'm looking for the girl I came in here with last night. She probably insulted you more than once"

"Clarkie, there's only one person I know that can make an armored car go adios in seconds" drunk Tess 😂

Oliver and Lois are just casually on a rail bed

Ollie's face hugging Lo 😂😂

His face when he comes to is even better

"Morning. Sorry" I'm still crying

Oliver's giggle when he sees his outfit

I may not get through anymore eps tonight because I'm taking 20 minutes per scene here

"Clark you're beeping"

The truck is in the barn 😂😂😂

"I hate to break it to you but the last thing I want to go around with for the rest of my life is a lie propagated by my ex boyfriend" "oh"

"There's something stuck in my bra" "that's not my territory anymore"

"I can't believe in my first drunken night out I lose Lois, commit a felony, and I land my friend in jail. I'm so reckless"

Why is Chloe still in that dress?

"My lucky lemur"

Huge siren flashbacks with Lois and Ollie tied up

"One, two, shuffle"

"I didn't exactly bring my green arrow gear to the bachelor party"

"Lois? Oliver?" The dance scene 😂😂

The casino fight this is beautiful

"The only one getting luckier tonight is yours truly" *knocks him out* who needs green arrow when you have plain old Oliver Queen

I just noticed Ollie lost the bra

"Way to go all in gorgeous" "back at ya hot stuff" I love Chlollie

"I found it in a puddle of champagne in the limo"

THE VIDEO 😂😂😂😂 I'm not going to bother quoting the whole thing

"A monkey?!" Chlo it's a lemur

"I hope you weren't gonna run off without your husband"

Now I have to endure some Ollie free eps and that's sad but here goes

"Tess. You didn't have to come all the way out here. There's caffeine givers in metropolis"

"he's outside in the car"

They made a child with Lex AND Clark's dna? This can only go one way

"I'm saving him from an encore performance of daddy dearest"

"Your son is dead Lionel" have I ever mentioned I love Tess?

"Mutation's a bitch"

"Are you like my dad?" "I prefer brother"

"Are you trying to tell me that Conner is the genetic lovechild of Clark Kent and Lex Luthor?" I hate that I laughed at that sentence

"But how is Lex able to shake up a human krypto cocktail without you realizing it?"

"Hold on chicken little"

Lois is pretty. That is all

Clark just standing there in a burnt shirt

It's like Kara all over again

"I was just stopping by to see how things are going but it looks like I should've brought marshmallows"

Well oops the child found out

Just when I was starting to like this kid

Oh good lord the kid is on red k this'll be fun

"Believe me I'll trade a little motion sickness for a bullet in the bonnet any day"

Lol Connor ok. This kid just grabbed a jacket and a necklace for Lois for

*Lois tosses stolen necklace back to police* "sorry"

"You destroyed Lex with your secrets and lies" Bull. Shit.

That fur coat is a look Lo

"I'll speed you away to Paris"

"It may bring out his inner angst a little but it doesn't turn him into this"

Clark busting the ring

Damnit Lionel

How does everyone but Clark bust kryptonite with their heat vision

Ok I did not miss the classical music in every Lionel scene

"You'll always be a Luthor" oh but she won't

"I hope it's not too presumptuous but I figured you needed a last name"

"I'm sure that when we have kids of our own, you will be an amazing father" damn right he will

[pastlivesandsecretdreams]

paradise - chapter four

chapter four - a documentary

mike dodds  x oc (cecilia “cecily” elizabeth sinatra kennedy)

warnings :: mention of death, loss, airplane crash, hemorrhage mention

song(s) of the chapter : cardigan by taylor swift 

word count : 1,740+

“all i’ve ever known is loss…” cecily told the camera that sat in front of her. she had been asked to make a documentary about her life thus far, and they got some old videos and photos of her from her aunt and her godmother. “fifteen minutes after i was born, my mother died of-” she hadn’t noticed that she had started to cry, until she felt the droplets fall onto her shirt. “-a hemorrhage. so for the first few years of my life, it was just me and my father.” a producer handed her a tissue box. “thank you.” she told him, wiping the tissues away. “i loved my father. he was the first great love of my life, i always say. because like i said, it was just us for the first few years of my life. then, he started bringing this pretty lady around the apartment. i loved carolyn! i never had any female presence besides my aunt caroline. so i was always in love with carolyn. she gave me love and attention and cookies. god, she made amazing cookies!” cecily started to laugh at what she had said. “and i got to be the flower girl in their wedding. i was just happy the two people i loved most were getting married! and that i got to wear a pretty dress. and then…” her face fell as she thought of their end. “i got sick from my school friend, josey. it was a bad stomach bug. like i was throwing up, and when i wasn’t, i was so incredibly nauseous. my father almost didn’t go to the wedding. i remember he was adamant on staying home to take care of me. but my step-aunt, auntie lauren, talked to my father and step-mother, who were fighting. their perfect marriage wasn’t as perfect as i thought. in my mind, they were the king and queen of the castle. but...they weren’t. and yet, there was so much love between them. my aunt caroline ended up taking me to her place until my parents would come back. normally, i would’ve slept with my cousins, but because i was sick, i was put in the guest room.

 i sat in bed after a long ass nap. i had written my father a letter, and i had planned to give it to his assistant, so when he next went to work, it would be a nice surprise on his desk. but...as i placed the letter inside the envelope, my aunt caroline walked into the room and just...wrapped her arms tightly around me. that's when i was told the people i loved most...were dead. and again, i became acquainted with loss. i remember nothing of the night after that. i guess my mind blocked it out. but i do remember waking up the next morning and everyone was treating me like i was a porcelain doll that was gonna break, if they so much as breathed heavily towards me. i stayed with them until the day after the funeral. at the age of seven, i was alone. i was an orphan. until my mother’s best friend and my godmother, alix, came to america. she packed everything i owned and shipped it to her home...in france. so, she uprooted me and brought me to reims, where i would grow up. i love my aunt alix, i do, but i wouldn’t have taken me across the pond. because, in a time where i was so fragile, she took me away from my family and friends. i understand she wanted me to get away from all that...but i needed to hold onto whatever sense of family and normalcy i had left.” she started to cry harder and harder, until her best friend, and possible cousin, ronan farrow walked over and hugged her. “you’re okay...you’re okay… deep breathes.” he whispered to her. “let’s take five.” he said to the producer, who nodded and left with the camera guy. “sweetie, it’s only been a few weeks since you gave birth. you need to relax.” she wiped her eyes and blew her nose into the tissue. “i’ve been on the go since i was seven. i need to do this. it will help me process a lot.” he nodded, starting to understand what she was getting on about. the girl had so much that she had never worked through, but now it wasn’t just her. she was a mother of four now, and still never came to terms with a lot of her demons. “can we start again?” ronan kissed her forehead and left the room to grab the producer and camera guy. “are you okay enough to continue?” she nodded as they started rolling again. “what was the last thing i said…?” she asked the producer. “your godmother taking you away from normalcy.” cecily nodded and took a drink of her water. the babies started to cry down, but mike quickly tended to them, so not to interrupt. he had been so good with taking care of her, and agreed that it would be good to get it all out there. “so, i never really made friends after that… because i was terrified of losing them because of all the loss in my life. i’ve hated feeling so alone. and i was alone...until i came back home to new york. then, six weeks after...i met this boy.” mike walked into the room with the twins, causing her to beam at him. “sorry to interrupt… teddy wants you.” she held out her arms, giggling softly as the baby was placed in her arms. “i just got to the best part in the story.” she told her beloved husband. “which is?” the baby latched onto her hand, nuzzling against her chest. “the part about me meeting this cute boy.” he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “he sounds...amazing.” she let out a melodious laugh, which seemingly echoed through the room. “trust me, he is. he’s the love of my life.” she smiled down the camera lens. “obviously...that boy became my husband the following year. we got engaged about eight months in and we just...couldn’t wait too long. about two months after that, we got married. luckily due to our family connections we got a wedding thrown together rather quickly. i had felt it coming on-” he looked at her shocked. “you did?!” cecily nodded and laughed again. “i did! one day you came into my apartment- which is the same apartment that belonged to my father- and what we live in now. and you just...seemed so sure about us. and i knew...i knew i was right for letting you into my life.” he moved and rested his forehead against hers. “i love you…” they said softly to each other. “you’ve been the light of my life.” cecily told him. “you and the children.” the both babies in their arms were fast sleep, loving being held by their parents. “then, on our wedding day, my cousin jack led me down the aisle. and we got married. and that night, at the reception, i told him what i had found out a week before.” her husband smiled at her, then the camera. “she was pregnant with eliza.” she giggled and nodded. “hell yeah, i was.” he looked enamoured by her laughter, by her, by the children they had made together. “it explained a lot. and after that, i knew i had to open up. so, he came with me to see a therapist. after all, he had some problems as well.” mike nodded and sighed softly. “before we met...i had been in the army. and i had seen so much. and i knew that we both had to work through some stuff.” cecily leaned over and wiped his tears away and kissed where they had been. “and we did it how we’ve done everything.” at the same time, they said, “together, or not at all.” they had added that into their vows last minute, and since then, it was a promise they kept. “and now that we have six dozen children-” this caused her to let out another beautiful laugh. “we- gladly- don’t have that many. we have four.” he smiled at her again, loving the sound that came out of her mouth. he could live on her laugh alone, if possible. “-yet. but!” this caused her to playfully hit his arm. “play nice, monkey!” the twins had woken up due to their mother’s laughter and looked up at them. almost if he understood, cassie started to make monkey-like noises. “oh my god!” the entire room fell into laughter at the two newest additions. “please tell me you got that on camera!” she was given a thumbs up from the camera guy. “can you please send me that bit?” once again, she was given a thumbs up. “thank you, timmy! but oh my god, we have a whole zoo in this apartment.” teddy started to babble to his mother. “yes, you too. yes, you too!” the two older kids waddled into the room, jack following behind them. “it seems the rest of our zoo is home!” the two children brought stools and sat next to their parents. “we missed you. kisses!” both children leaned in and kissed her cheeks, then their fathers. “wanna introduce the kiddies?” the producer asked them. “this is elizabeth jaymes. she’s five. we call her “eliza”. this is john fitzgerald, he’s four and we call him “john john” like how the media called my dad. and these two are the newest. we thought we were having one more...then it seems we got a two for one deal. the one i’m holding is edward arthur. we call him “teddy”. and last but not least, this is cassiopeia star. we call her “cassie”. and the twins are about a month old now.” the two older kids waved to the camera. “what does you daddy do for a living?” the producer asked the older two. “he keeps the bad guys off the streets!” eliza answered before her brother could say anything. “and mama?” he asked john john. “she makes houses!” cecily giggled towards her son. “i’m an interior designer.” she told him. “thats what i said!” another round of laughs came from the room. for a moment, their lives were peaceful. but cecily knew it wouldn’t last.

___________________________

hey everyone! i hope you’re having a good holiday season and that you’re all staying safe! here is chapter four, which i actually wrote on christmas eve, but didn’t have time to post it until now! i love you all! 

xoxo,

gracie

tag list : @evans-dejong​

[scenecipriano]

Murdering Beauty

based on this

Warnings: Unsympathetic!Patton, implied child neglect, child death

:3

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

Beware the witch that lived in the woods, that was what young twins Remus and Roman Valez were always told at night before bedtime when visiting their grandparents. Their grand-dad always told them tales of a witch with bright blue cats eyes that ate children. Their grandmother would always scold the old man for scaring the little ones, but their grandfather always had the same argument. 

“That damned thing ate my little brother! Warning them will protect them, Iris, you know this!” 

The twins had promised to stay out of the woods, not wanting to upset their grand-dad, but that promise would be broken one cold fall night. 

“Come, little children, I’ll take thee away into a land of enchantment~.” 

Remus stirs awake when a soft melodic voice drifts through his open bedroom window, the eight-year-old rubs the sleep from his green eyes and stifles a yawn. He hops down from his bed, shuddering when the cold wooden floor touches his bare feet. Remus shuffles over to his window, the cool breeze ruffling his auburn hair. 

“Come, little children, the times come to play, here in my garden of shadows~.” 

Remus blinks and tilts his head, his bangs falling in front of his tired green eyes. The voice was so soothing, it felt safe, it made him feel safe for the first time in his life. 

‘Come on, kiddo I’ll protect you I promise~.’ 

Without thinking, Remus nods to the soft voice that spoke to him. He turns and walks across his room, Remus opens the doors and goes downstairs, making sure to stay light on his feet as to not wake his parents, he knew they would be angry with him if he had woken them up. 

“Follow sweet children, I’ll show thee the way, through all the pain and the sorrows~.” 

“Rem? Why are you awake?” 

Remus turns to look at his older brother by only two minutes, Roman’s matching auburn hair stood up in all directions, a half-empty glass of water held in his small hands. 

“I’m going to play with the pretty voice, don’t tell mama and papa,” Remus replies as he turns back to the front door, he moves to it standing on his tiptoes to unlock the deadbolt. 

The door swings open by itself, the melodic voice fully washing over Remus causing the eight-year-old to relax. 

“Weep not poor children, for life is this way, murdering beauty and passions~.” 

Remus allows a smile to come to his lightly freckled face as he steps out of the house, he goes around the side and into the backyard. He stops at the corner of the house when he notices a pair of bright blue feline-like eyes staring at him from the edge of the woods.

“Come now, little one we can’t dwell any longer.” 

Remus nods and walks across the backyard, ignoring how the little pebbles in the grass dug into his bare feet. When at the edge he looks up, a man with bright blue eyes and dark brown hair stared down at him. A pair of round glasses sat neatly over his nose, a large smile plastered on the man’s pale face. 

“Come along, kiddo, we’ve got big things to do.” The man says as he holds his hand out to Remus. 

Remus hesitates for a moment before giving the man his hand, he could hear his brother’s frantic screams over the whoosh as he and the man in black vanished away. 

“Remus!! R-Remus!” Roman cries as he runs across the backyard, he stops dead in his tracks when the man in the black cloak looks up. Glowing blue feline-like eyes burning straight through his soul. Roman’s green eyes widen when the man and his brother disappear in a wisp of black shadows. 

“Hush now dear children, it must be this way, too weary of life and deceptions~.” 

Roman felt his blood run cold, he knew this song, he knew it. His grand-dad had warned him and Remus about this very song, the song of the witch with blue eyes. Roman gulps and looks back to his house, contemplating whether or not he should get their parents, but he knew telling them would lead to yelling for waking them up on a work night. With a deep breath, Roman steel’s his nerves and sprints into the woods. 

‘I’m coming Rem…’ 

Remus watches as the man with blue eyes dances around the small kitchen that he was brought to. His black cloak fluttering behind him as he threw ingredients into the large black cauldron inside the brick fireplace. 

“Ya know, I’ve always adored children. I had a son once, my little Virgil. Such a nervous boy, always needing his papa’s protection.” The man says, Remus listens intently as he watches the man stir whatever was in the cauldron. 

“Oh, dear I haven’t introduced myself, how rude of me! My name is Patton, but my kiddos call me dad!” 

Remus tilts his head, “Your kiddos?... I um… I’m Remus.” 

“Yes, my kiddos! And I know who you are, dear. I’ve been keeping an eye on you, you’re special, Remus.” 

Remus blinks and smiles shyly, the only person who had ever spoken to him like that was his grand-dad. 

“I am?” 

“You are so very special kiddo. I’ve been wanting you to meet the others for so long now.” Patton replies as he turns to face Remus, the hood of cloak down allowing ruly dark brown curls to hang loosely in front of his face. 

“I’ve been waiting to bring you home…” 

Roman sprints through the woods, ignoring how the low hanging branches scratch at his arms and face, or how they tug at his hair in an effort to stop him from reaching his brother. He had to save Remus, he couldn’t let their grand-dad down by giving up now. 

‘You need to leave before he takes you too!’ 

Roman ignores the whispers, he couldn’t stop now, not when he was so close (at least he thinks) to saving his brother. Roman stumbles to a halt when another child appears before him, the boy in front of him looked to be a year older than him. The boy wore a dark blue shirt with stars and constellations, sandy blonde hair hanging in front of his hazel eyes, a pair of square-framed glasses that were being held together with tape sat on his worried face. 

“You need to leave, save yourself! It’s too late for your brother…” 

“W-Who are you? Why would say that!?” 

“My name’s Logan Valez… Please you need to leave.” 

Roman blinks his green eyes in surprise, this was his great-uncle, the boy his grand-dad told him about, the brother that was supposedly eaten by the witch in the woods. 

“I know who you are Roman… Remy visits sometimes and tells me about you and Remus, please… go I’ll keep him safe.” 

Roman felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes, he shakes his head. He refuses to end up like his grandpa Remy, he refuses to feel guilty for the rest of his life for doing nothing to save his baby brother. Roman takes a shaky breath before running ahead, going straight through Logan leaving the ghostly boy behind. 

Remus felt… funny. Not like a ha-ha funny, or even a sick funny, he just felt… funny. Maybe it was a scared funny? Maybe… Remus stared at himself, but not in a mirror, no, he literally stared at his slumped form. All life drained from him, leaving him standing feeling wispy in the window as if any moment he’d be blown away. 

“Oh, look at you, my dear… No more pain or sorrow, no more bruises that can’t be explained.” 

Remus looks up, Patton stands next to him a gentle smile on his face. 

“What’s happening? Why… Why did the drink you give me hurt?” 

“It had to be that way, my dear… But it’s okay now! Now, you’re one of my kiddos and we’ll always be together… like a family.” 

Remus bites his lip and looks at his body before looking back up to Patton. 

“But… I-I had a family, I-I had Roman… I-I want my brother!” 

“Hush my dear, go play,” Patton replies with a wave of his hand, Remus closes his eyes tight before opening them again when he feels a cool breeze wash over him. The first thing he notices is two kids, one that looked to be about five with mismatched eyes, and another that was the same age as him that shared Patton’s dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. 

“I’m sorry for what my papa did…” 

Roman stares with his mouth gaped, a cabin stood in the center of the woods. Smoke coming from a large chimney, he could hear soft singing coming from inside. Roman shakes away his shock and sneaks over to the window that faced the entrance to the woods. He peeks inside and gasps, sitting in a wooden chair slumped over was his brother. Remus sat unmoving, no sign of life. 

Tears pool into Roman’s eyes, his body grows tense when a melodic voice sings softly in his ear. 

“Come little children the times come to play…” 

Roman slowly turns and comes face to face with feline-like glowing blue eyes. 

“Here in my garden of shadows~.”