#i am sure if we are multiple brains we can take this even farther

[fuck-off-im-ace]

Warrior Nun and the cross symbol

It is very interesting to see the symbolism of crosses in Warrior Nun, and how that intersect with circles. Simple shapes, but they hold so much meaning in this show.

We are first presented by the Halo, of course a circle, and a symbol of divinity. The OCS, logically, use the intersection of a cross and a circle as their symbol. Halo and Christianity, united. For all of season 1, Ava wears the Halo on her back, and barely uses the Cruciform Sword. In season 2, her outfit put a cross on her back, superposed with the light of the Halo, and she only fight with her sword. Could that represent her integration into the OCS? Certainly not within Christianity as a whole, because as seen in season 2, she seems uncomfortable with even just the idea of a prayer for her fallen sisters.

So. Circles. The Halo is a perfect circle, same with the Crown of Thorns. So is Jillian’s Ark, and so is Adriel’s new church. A circle, but all the windows in the shape of a cross, which is an interesting design choice.

According to Jillian, Adriel’s power comes from crosses. People pray with them, and he can use that to power the Ark. He put a cross in Camila’s neck so that he could control her. His followers are using his new cross design to pray to him, and he controls them through that. 

In the last analysis i did of this shot, i talked about the cross being used as a sword of Damocles, but i think i missed a very important part. Religion is used as a sword of Damocles. Faith, as a whole, could fail them at any moment. We have seen, with Adriel’s followers, as soon as they stopped believing in him, they suffered consequences. Faith, thereby religion, is used against people, to control them. We all know how much religion was used against Beatrice to control her. Thus, the cross becomes a symbol of control.

If we see the cross as a symbol of control, thats where the meaning of the circle becomes interesting. Circles are usually associated with eternity and life. The Halo is without limit, able to do incredible things, including healing and bringing people back to life. Jilian’s ark is a gateway to eternity, a way to heal her son by saving him from death. Adriel’s church was his way to bring his eternity to Earth. The OCS, charged with killing demons, uses the combination of a cross and a circle as their symbol. They are Humanity’s protector (position of control) against wraiths and other demons (eternal beings).

Now. Arq Tech’s symbol is a the greek letter known as psi, which has an associated meaning of life, soul and mind. Make sense, considering what Jillian was trying to do with her company. What is very interesting is that Adriel’s cross very much look like a cross but with a psi symbol at each end.

I could be wrong about this, but its the most plausible option i could think of. Surely this isnt only a design choice, we know this show (and the creator has said as much with the retweet of the analysis someone posted on Twitter), everything has a meaning. So what could this mean? Was he harnessing people’s soul through his cross? Was it posession, or mind control? Is there a difference, really? 

One of the last shot of the show present us with Adriel’s cross (the mind cross?) on top of the ark. Mind over matter? The power of thoughts and soul over what is material? 

Or, if we go with that control/eternity theory, well that is the best representation of control over eternity you could get. 

[amysubmits]

“Just Knowing” & Communication

I got an ask recently asking if I could write something about how doms seem to sometimes “instinctively know” things about their sub, and how communication plays into that. 

I thought it was a great point, and I had an experience that I’d been wanting to share in some way, that I thought would work well within that concept. Anyway, here goes...

I have shared experiences where CD reads my needs seamlessly. Those moments can feel almost magical and that makes me want to share them. I have occasionally heard from people who seem to think CD is nearly capable of reading my mind, as a result of posts like that. It’s not my intention to give that impression. 

There are occasional moments where I am shocked at how he knows things I didn’t say. I’ve also shared that sometimes those moments where he perfectly meets my needs are often the moments where I feel the most owned. That’s because him knowing and meeting my needs feels so intensely intimate, and so much of our D/s comes down to emotional intimacy.

He isn’t a mind reader, though. We have been together over a decade now, and he’s observant. I think that deserves a big mention, when discussing how he ‘just knows’ things about me. He notices my body language, and how I react to things. He learns a lot about me by simply paying close attention. This is really important to me. Him naturally watching me, noticing my mood and such, is a big way that he makes me feel loved. I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t naturally drawn to try to learn me, and pay close attention to me. Just him being someone who pays attention is a huge part of how I feel loved. It shows me that he wants to know as much as he can about me, and that he wants to meet my needs. More than that, his desire to want to learn my needs period, matters. There are some people who just don’t wish to get that deep with their partner, they don’t care to know their partner like the back of their had. That would be a problem, for me, because I do want that level of intimacy. Part of how I knew that CD had that desire for deeper intimacy, was how he tried to learn what he could by observing me. 

At the same time, being mindful of your loved one’s body language, facial expressions and behaviors only goes so far. You can’t observe your way into knowing exactly what someone wants or needs. You just can’t. Certain things just have to be explicitly stated. While a good portion of our emotional intimacy comes from paying close attention to each other, more of it comes from our communication.

The truth is, there have been times where I’ve been frustrated that CD didn’t catch something. I’ve occasionally had the emotional reaction of almost feeling neglected because he didn’t notice something about me. And that? Is not a healthy reaction for me to have. That reaction is something I have to try to be conscious of, and I can’t allow myself to run away with those feelings. I have to recognize them and fight back against them. Because I can’t expect him to read my mind, or to pick up on everything, to ‘just know’ everything, or anything, really. If he isn’t aware of something, it is my responsibility to communicate. 

We were new to D/s in particular, we talked about our needs and wants all the time, often daily. Getting started with D/s requires really thorough communication so that you know the boundaries and limits of the dynamic, and so that you know what is expected of each of you. Even though we tried to hammer out our dynamic in advance, we found ourselves experiencing scenarios that we weren’t sure how they ‘should’ be handled with our D/s, because we couldn’t pre-plan our D/s for how to go about every possible scenario that life may throw at us. So whenever we experienced something new and didn’t know how to handle it, we’d have to discuss how we wanted to handle it. Or in there cases we’d handle a situation and then realize we wished it had been handled differently, and we’d discuss that and plan to do differently next time. 

After a while (many months?) it got to where we had the basics down and we didn’t need to talk about things as often anymore. We didn’t have to discuss it multiple times a week anymore, but perhaps a couple times a month was sufficient. Still, the frequency ebbs and flows. We go through phases, even now, 6 years in, of discussing our D/s more or less often. It mainly depends on whether we’re facing new things in life or making changes to our rules or the rest of our dynamic, or whether life is normal and our dynamic is unchanged. If we make changes, that means we’ll communicate about our D/s more often for a while, usually. Tons of what we know about each other and our needs are things we’ve learned through all that communication. Way more than we’ve learned by just observing each other. 

Our “meta-talks” (discussions about our D/s) are perhaps one of the areas that I don’t give enough attention to on this blog. They’re often very private feeling, so it’s hard to feel comfortable sharing much about them. 

A couple of months ago after a meta-talk, we came to the conclusion that it would be helpful for us to focus on making sure I feel very seen. It wasn’t that I had stopped feeling seen...but more that our current life circumstances were making me need to feel more seen than usual. Anyway, CD had me make him a list of things that made me feel seen, to share with him.

The things I shared on that list were all things he had done “naturally” before. So it was more about sharing with him what things he does that make me feel particularly seen. Still, I did over-think it, a little bit. I wondered if it would feel different for him to do these things for me after I shared them with him, rather than doing them purely instinctually, like he had in the past. Would it feel less genuine? Would I be able to absorb it and really effectively feel see if I suspected he was doing this for the purpose of making me feel seen? 

Early on, I did feel a bit bashful or self-conscious when I noticed him doing those things a little bit more often. I felt a bit insecure like “Oh, he just thinks he has to do that because I need to feel more seen.” and for some reason that cheapened it a little in my mind, and also made me feel a bit selfish or something. Worrying about being a burden on people is a deep seeded insecurity of mine that comes in up all sorts of ways. So it’s not surprising that my brain tried to twist this into ‘he just feels obligated to’. Even early on when I was feeling those insecurities, I was feeling seen, at the same time.  As more time went on though, those insecurities softened and I was able to recognize that these things were feeling fulfilling to him, too, which further eased my insecurities. 

This is just one example of how our direct communication has benefitted our D/s. When this type of thing occurs over the course of many years, I hope you can imagine how that can assist with creating those “he just knows” moments. 

I think a lot of good relationships have similar experiences with hesitating to share exactly what you want from your partner. The love is there, the good intent is there, but unless you tell your partner exactly what makes you feel the best...you can’t magically expect them to know. Yet many of us have this instinct that “I can’t tell them exactly how I’d like them to treat me, or it won’t be as ‘real’”. 

I think D/s often complicates this issue even farther. Subs hesitate to ask for ‘too much’ because they don’t want to be too needy, or to feel like they’re taking charge or telling their doms what to do. Which I think is a valid concern. In my view, the answer to that potential problem isn’t to avoid sharing what make you feel good. Instead, it’s just to be mindful of the way that you are communicating, so that you are sharing the knowledge of your needs or desires without telling them what to do. 

Communicating in great detail is a huge part of how we find the intimacy that we’re after with D/s. Understanding in detail what makes each other feel dominant and submissive does SO much to assist us with keeping our D/s on track, and to keep each other feeling loved and cared for. These deep, difficult, detailed discussions are also helpful to our D/s because they make me realize how safe our relationship is. That sense of security allows me to let go and be more submissive. 

As I said earlier, I understand that instinct that if you tell someone exactly what you want, and then they do it, your initial instinct may be to feel like it’s less meaningful when they do it. Like asking for it somehow ‘cheapened’ it. 

I think that is a largely misguided instinct, though. I think that if you tell someone what feels good to you, and they do it just to placate you or please you? You can tell they’re just phoning it in. And if you tell them what makes you feel good, and they do it because they enjoy making you feel good? You’ll feel that too. 

It’s similar to how starting D/s worked for us. When I first asked for it, I worried it would be something he did just for me. But once he found meaning in it himself? I could tell that our D/s was fulfilling for him, that it was giving him joy, and that he was really feeling the connection with me through this dynamic. It was just easy to see that he was really ‘feeling it’. A similar thing can happen with "smaller” things such as specific acts of love, care or service. 

[hawkinsindiana]

this changes things

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER FOUR OF ELEVEN (!!)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 2.3k

a/n: we’re back to eleven chapters baby!!!! this one ended up being longer than i thought. i know i usually post on friday nights, but i couldn’t help but give you all a lil valentine’s day treat. pls enjoy!!!!

masterlist

Steve’s nervous. 

It’s down to the wire; there's only a few short weeks left of his final high school semester. Four out of five college applications have been rejected. Each one received has fed the anxiety more and more. 

Every day that passes without a lick of news from the remaining university has him reconsidering everything. His education. His career. His future.

The only thing Steve knows about his future is that he wants you in it, in whichever form that might be. You’re the constant. Without you, he’s afraid he’d eventually go back to being that person he was before. You make him want to be better. Trying to be worthy of you gives Steve purpose. 

He imagined that getting a college education would help keep him on that path. It seems farther away with each rejection letter he receives. 

Steve hasn’t told you that he hasn’t gotten into any so far. He’s afraid of disappointing you, especially after everything you’ve done for him. 

The spring of ‘85 has been particularly unforgiving. It’s been storming all week - the air still hangs with that familiar smell of rain soaked concrete. You read that the Hawkins Post reported a record amount of rainfall; the local stream overflowed and flooded a few basements. 

The mail is still damp when Steve retrieves it after practice. It sticks to his fingers as he shuffles through each envelope, drying his sneakers on the welcome mat. 

And then his eyes linger on one addressed to him; Steve nearly drops his backpack when he sees who sent it. 

Haphazardly, he tosses the rest of the mail onto the kitchen counter as he contemplates whether to even open the damn thing. Steve’s pretty sure he knows the answer. Is it an answer he wants?

Whatever the words inside this parcel read, it changes Steve’s life forever. His future is planned from the moment he breaks the seal - there would be no going back. Either he stays here in Hawkins, trapped by an education he neglected for far too long, or he gets to take a step to distance himself from this shitty town and prove his worth. 

Steve isn’t a fan of the former option.

He wishes you were here to read it for him. He’d rather you tell him the news; hearing it come from your lips would make it easier. 

By the time Steve decides to open it, a few minutes have passed. Why does this feel like the scariest thing he’s ever done?

Due to the water, some of the ink bled through the paper; pieces of the letter are illegible. But at the top, a familiar phrase answers his question: Unfortunately, we regret to inform you-

Steve curses, angrily throwing the envelope and its contents into the trash. He refuses to read anymore. 

He has no one to blame but himself. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry. There were multiple opportunities for him to change course and put effort into his schoolwork. By the time he finally tried, it was too late. 

Thunder booms in the distance once Steve parks his car beside your mother’s. He doesn’t remember deciding to come here; the only thing he can recall is grabbing the keys, without a destination in mind. His heart brought him to your warmth. 

As Steve gets out of the car, he wonders if this was maybe a bad idea. It isn’t very often that he feels afraid to face you - he’s scared of your reaction, and the outcome that could follow.

He knew that he could love you, that he could fall just as hard as you did for him. But admitting it to himself, and then you - he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do it again. That phrase has left a sour taste in his mouth, one that Steve hopes he can wash away. Because you deserve to hear it too. 

Maybe he’s closer to saying it than he thought, perhaps that’s why he’s so scared to tell you. Maybe-

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Dustin’s voice startles Steve, who turns to see the boy walking his bike up the driveway. Steve fumbles his response, head spinning with thoughts about you, “I don’t, uh-”

Dustin interrupts him, not noticing the nerves Steve displays, “Hey, you should come in! It’s mac ‘n cheese night.” 

Steve hangs his head in defeat, knowing that he’s going to follow your brother inside. He can’t say no to this kid. 

Dustin hangs up his raincoat once the pair of them enter the house; the bell on Tews’ collar jingles as they run to greet the boys. The kitten weaves between Steve’s legs before he kneels down to give them a few pets. 

“That you, Dusty?” Your mother calls from within; clattering silverware echoes from the kitchen. Steve chuckles at the nickname. Dustin punches him in the bicep. 

He kicks off his shoes as he replies, “Hey Mom! Get out another bowl - look who I found loitering around.” 

Steve scoffs, shoving Dustin as they walk forward through the threshold into the living room. Your mom moves to welcome them; her warm smile widens when she sees Steve by her son’s side, “Well look who it is! Steve, sweetheart, how are you?”

He’s baffled by her every time he shares a meal with your family. Her kind soul is infectious, and drastically different from the parents he was raised by. Steve tries not to think about the fact her beloved pet is secretly buried out back - he’s reminded of it whenever he sees her. 

“I’m good, Mrs. Henderson. How are you?” Steve answers, returning her grin. She envelops him in a quick hug, “How many times am I going to have to tell you? Just call me Claudia, hon.”

Steve laughs along with her as he follows her to the kitchen, “I think you’ll need to remind me one more time.”

And then his eyes meet yours from across the room. They smile nearly as much as your lips at the sight of him; your heart flutters at this unexpected surprise. 

When you catch onto the sadness in his expression, the corners of your mouth drop. It’s obvious to you that something’s wrong. Steve doesn’t usually stop by without an invitation; something must’ve happened. 

Throughout dinner, you take mental notes on his deflated behavior. It’s subtle enough to fool your family, but you know him better. With each minute that passes, the more anxious you become to hear the cause. So when he volunteers to help you with the dishes, as he always does, you know it’s only a matter of time. 

“How was practice?” You ask before drying off a cup. Steve takes it from your hand as he replies, “Uh, it was good. Although it’s annoying that we’re still practicing even though the season’s over.”

You hum in agreement as he places the glass on the shelf. Steve glances back at you briefly, “What about you? What’d you get up to?”

A beat passes - you’re looking for the words to describe your afternoon. Maybe not the words, but the courage. It’s only when he turns around, brow creased, do you answer him. 

“I studied at Nancy’s,” You say. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

You nod your head, focusing your gaze onto the floor, “It was nice, actually. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“Now when you say studying…” He trails off for a moment as he thinks, “You two didn’t… exchange notes about me or anything, did you?”

Steve’s growing smirk makes you laugh; you hit him playfully with the towel, “No! And I haven’t told her, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

A part of him can’t help but be relieved. There’s no limit to what you two could chat about.

“We just ended up talking about college most of the time,” You add, “She wanted to know some tips since she’ll be applying soon.”

Steve grabs a plate to dry; in order to try and quell his anxiety, he has to do something productive. But your mind recognizes it as a distraction - you’re no stranger to coping mechanisms. 

“Have you figured out where you’re gonna go yet?” He questions, praying your answer isn’t far; lightning flashes outside the kitchen window, followed closely by the low rumble of thunder. 

You sigh as you lean back against the counter, “I’m not sure. Nancy was helping me talk through my options earlier, but it’s such a big decision to make. I wanna make sure it’s the right fit.”

Steve nods slightly, forehead creasing as he wipes his hands on the towel. And by the way he clenches his jaw at your reply, you know that this is the source of contention. 

You nudge his leg with your foot, “What about you? Get any responses back?”

The breath hitches in Steve’s throat; there’s no way this conversation doesn’t end with his reveal. The longer it takes for him to speak, the more concerned you grow. 

“I, uh-“ A sigh passes his lips as he grips the counter, keeping his focus away from you. He doesn’t want to witness your reaction. 

“I didn’t get in,” Steve mutters. He exhales, shaking his head in disbelief; until now, it almost didn’t seem real. It took admitting it to you for his brain to accept it. 

You shift on your feet, unsure of what to say. Over the past few weeks, you and Steve had been discussing how your relationship would persist once you both had made your college commitments. This wasn’t an outcome either of you prepared for. 

“Holy shit, Steve. I’m sorry…” You whisper. Steve pushes his face into his hands; his voice is muffled from behind his palms, “Yeah, yeah… holy shit.” 

You don’t hesitate any more to comfort him. Steve straightens as you place your hands on his arms; he melts into your touch, unable to prevent you from turning his body to face yours. 

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” You reassure him, “College isn’t the only option, you know. There are other things you could do.” 

The expression on Steve’s face breaks your heart. You’d do anything to wipe it away and brighten his mood. But Steve just sighs again, appreciating your efforts to help him, but nothing seems to be working. 

“How’d your parents react?” You ask. The only thing keeping Steve grounded to this moment is the firm grip you have on his shoulders; he thinks he’d float away without it. 

He scoffs a bit; the sound breaks the deafening silence that formed as he thought of a response. His eyes are still focused downwards as he finally answers you, “They don’t know yet. I just got the last letter today. I couldn’t think of going anywhere else.”

When your fingers brush against his cheek, Steve instinctively moves his hands to rest on your waist, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Steve finally lifts his head. Your eyes are wide, pupils filled to the brim with nothing but your fondness for him. All of a sudden, he’s confused why he was so scared to tell you. He realizes that he never should’ve doubted you. 

“I was scared this would change things. Or that you’d be disappointed in me or some shit.”

Your brow furrows as you laugh softly - baffled by his words, “What could ever make you think that I’d be disappointed in you?” 

A flash of previous memories answers your own question. You decide not to pull on that thread anymore. 

“This changes things,” You mutter. Your eyeline drops as you pause, choosing your words carefully before continuing, “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Finally, Steve feels a bit of relief. The sincerity in your voice calms the fear, and a deep exhale allows him to let it go. Your compassion and understanding permits him to begin thinking clearly again. He knew there was a reason he came here. 

You’re right though. This does change how you both navigate the future. But with you here to support him, Steve figures he’ll be just fine. 

“I mean…” The corner of your mouth curls up at the thought that pops into your head, “The only way my opinion of you changes is if you killed my brother or something like that.”

Steve chuckles slightly, “But Mike’s still fair game?”

“Oh yeah, go ahead,” You quip, “He’s had it comin’ for a while.” 

Even though your voices are hushed, the joke still makes you crack a pair of brilliant smiles; it almost makes Steve forget about his future for a moment. Standing here in your arms, Steve can’t help but realize how safe he feels. 

And then you sigh, reaching up to brush back a lock of his brunette hair - the sensation of your touch fills Steve with something new, something different. A direct contrast to the violent storm brewing outside, this is soft, warm, and golden. Like daylight.

Your eyes meet again. Honestly, he’s not sure he ever wants to look at anything else. 

Your hand lands on his chest, “This doesn’t make me love you any less.”

Steve throws caution to the wind - he kisses you. And already, you can tell that this is one you’ll remember. His lips are soft against yours, but without sacrificing an ounce of passion. You almost forget that someone could walk in and expose your relationship; when Steve finally pulls away, it doesn’t matter anyways.

As if you weren’t left breathless enough from his kiss, the words he mutters afterwards could’ve done it themselves. 

With one of his trademark smirks plastered across his face, Steve moves to hold your head between his palms, “Fuck, I love you.”

You kiss him again so quickly that you both didn’t have enough time to wipe the twinkling grins from your lips. Your noses are squished against each other, but neither of you cares enough. Your shared love dulls the pain. 

Steve smiles into the kiss even further. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

—   taglist: @djjarin / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @peanutem / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @bakugouishusbando / @stxtch72 / @random-girl-army / @wisdaemon / @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

if you want be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

[ruzek-halstead]

the way you move is like a full-on rainstorm (and i’m a house of cards)

outer banks • jiara • post-season two • fluff with a sprinkle of angst

In the beginning, the idea of a deserted island to themselves sounds like a paradise.

No parents, no rules, no murders — just each other and a fierce determination to get back what's theirs.

In theory, that was great, but it doesn't take long before a sinking feeling settles in the pit of Kiara's stomach. She thinks about the similar feeling of despair her parents must be feeling at her disappearance and it's paralyzing. She isn't sure if the others notice her change in behaviour —  Kiara thinks they're just happy to be alive, after so many close calls.

Kiara doesn't understand how the gravity of what they've faced doesn't hit them now that they're alone and stranded.

Don't get her wrong, Kiara is always down for anything, especially if it's for her friends. Her loyalty knows no bounds, and she doesn't regret a single moment, but now that she has the time to reflect, she isn't sure how to process it.

They almost died.

JJ almost died.

She understands they're just happy to have made it out alive, but Kiara can't forget the fact that they almost didn't.

Sometimes when she sleeps at night, it isn't the chilly breeze or the uncomfortable sand that keeps her awake. It's the fact that every time she closes her eyes, she feels like she's underwater again, being dragged under by the dead weight of her best friend. She can't un-see it, she can't forget about it, and it's making it incredibly difficult for her to move on.

Kiara quickly realizes the water doesn't just affect her when she closes her eyes. Every time she moves to enjoy the benefits of an ocean six feet away, her legs stop moving as soon as her toes merely dip into the water. She hasn't been able to have a proper swim and it doesn't take her long to figure it out; so, she just stays away from the ocean, unless it is to cleanse her skin. Even then, she can't go too far.

The fact that JJ acts like he didn't nearly have a brush with death doesn't help her anxiety.

He acts like his normal carefree and reckless self, and don't get Kiara wrong, it's one of the things she adores about him. But she can't look at him the same anymore. His head wound was serious and they had no medical supplies to treat it. Sometimes Kiara watches him carefully, watches his movements because sometimes, she catches the way he wavers when he stands and needs to blink multiple times to even take a step forward. But then he's running with the boys, eagerly tackling each other and Kiara cringes every time his head connects with various hard surfaces.

It's painful to watch, and the fear that something serious is wrong but they have no way of knowing is sometimes too much for Kiara. That, piled with her nightmares and her conflicted feelings about her parents, is enough to dissipative any joy she might feel about a deserted island with her best friends.

It's only been a few days since they've arrived onto the island, and Kiara isn't sure her friends have caught onto her standoffish behaviour. It should hurt a bit, but Kiara can't bring herself to care.

When they decide to hop into the ocean for a late-afternoon swim, Kiara mumbles an excuse and hangs back, watching them from afar. She's sat against a tree, her knees pulled up to her chest as she watches. The jealousy hits her square in the chest and she's slightly angry her body doesn't allow her to join in on the fun. She doesn't know how to get over her new fear of water; the images of JJ's bloodied blonde hair against her skin, trying to stay afloat, haven't disappeared from her mind, and she's beginning to fear they never will.

Kiara is so deeply stuck in her thoughts that she doesn't even notice JJ stepping out of the ocean and approaching her.

When he sits down next to her, he's soaking wet, but the hot sun is quickly drying out the droplets scattered along his bare chest. He reaches for a split coconut and offers it to Kiara; she shakes her head so he takes a small sip.

"So," JJ starts, clearing his throat. "Are you going to tell me what's up?"

Kiara doesn't take JJ for the most perceptive out of their group, but he always seems to surprise her. Perhaps just how she's been keeping an eye on him since they arrived on this island, he was doing the same with her.

"Silence isn't a good look on you, Kie," he says, and Kiara realizes she failed to reply to his question. He's not wrong either. Kiara isn't exactly known for being quiet — rather, she's known for her passionate rants about the environment, turtles and the abhorrence of single use plastic. She hasn't been feeling any of that lately; she hasn't been feeling herself at all lately. "I'm not blind, you know. I can see something's up."

Kiara shrugs, because she truly doesn't feel like talking, and she can feel JJ's eyes burning a hole into the side of her face. How does she explain to her best friend that every time she looks at him, she pictures his unconscious, bruised and bleeding body?

"Kie," JJ sighs, quieter this time. "I'm starting to get worried."

The softness and sincerity in his voice causes her to look over, and she almost wishes she hadn't. His eyes are the brightest blue with the sun shining down on them, his hair messy and pulled back and a slight frown etched on his pink lips, that he bites anxiously.

"I'm just starting to miss home," Kiara replies, and it isn't a lie, per say, but it isn't the entire truth either.

JJ seems a little relieved he's managed to get something out of her, but his eyes stare at her as if he's expecting her to say more. "Okay, and what else?" Kiara's head swivels around to look at him questioningly. "Kie," he starts exasperatedly, "You've barely stepped into the ocean since we've gotten here and you've been so closed off. Seriously, what's going on with you?"

Her jaw locks and her eyes harden for a reason she can't determine. This is what she wanted, for someone to notice, to care about what the hell was going on with her. But her throat is burning, and she's selfish because all she wants to do is scream at him — scream at him because she's like this because of him.

Deep down she knows she doesn't regret jumping overboard to save him for even a second. She doesn't. But she resents him for putting her in that position in the first place, for jumping to her defence and getting hurt, for being the bravest friend she'd ever had. It's starting to make her brain hurt; she plans to avoid this conversation at all costs.

"I already told you," Kiara mumbles, standing up and dusting the sand off the back of her shorts. She ignores the pleading look in JJ's eyes. "I miss home, that's all."

Kiara turns to walk further into the trees, farther from where her best friends are screaming in utter happiness with each other. She nearly expects JJ to give up and go back into the ocean, allowing her some time for herself. But when she turns to look at him approaching with heavy footsteps, his expression is tight, angry even, and his jaw is clenched as he stares at her.

"Kiara, I'm not playing this game with you," JJ rumbles, and Kiara knows he means it by the use of her full name. "And I'm not leaving here until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you."

Kiara's fists clench at her sides and JJ's eyes drop to them. "You want to know what's wrong with me, JJ?" She spits, feeling the fire spread through her veins and into her brown eyes. She steps to him and continues, "Why don't we talk about you instead, huh?"

"What?" JJ responds, clearly confused. "Kie—"

"No, JJ! Let's talk about you!" Kiara snaps, continuing to step into his space. JJ doesn't step back, and his expression only darkens. "Let's talk about how you're pretending you're fine, but you're clearly fucking not! I see you, JJ! I see you when you stand up too fast and it takes you a full minute to get your shit together. You're obviously hurt but you act like it's nothing! What if you hit your head again? What then? We don't have a doctor — we can't save you again, JJ!"

JJ's expression is calculating, trying to gauge what this actually has to do with Kiara's new behaviour. He spots her trembling bottom lip when she says they can't save him again. He knows she means herself, because she's the one who saved him, no one else.

"Kie, I'm fine. Sure, it's a little sore, but I'm not going to stop living my life because of a little injury. I've had worse, Kie, and you know it."

Kiara nearly growls in response.

"Seriously, Kie, what the hell is the matter with you?"

Kiara can only take so much. She snaps.

"I can't fucking sleep!" Kiara shouts, voice cracking, but she powers through. "I can't sleep because every time I close my eyes, I'm back in the ocean, holding both of our bodies above water so we don't fucking drown! I can't go in the ocean because we nearly died and then you almost died in my arms and how am I supposed to just get over that, JJ?"

JJ's eyes are wide as she explodes.

"Kie—"

"I'm terrified you're only one hit away from just never waking up again and I can't have that, JJ — I can't."

Kiara is standing right in front of him at this point, eyes wide and filled with unshed tears. It feels good to just yell, to get her frustrations out, even if she's yelling at JJ. His expression is blank, save for the pity in his blue eyes.

She blinks and a tear escapes. His face betrays him and his lips curl in a frown before he's wrapping his arms tight around Kiara's waist and pressing her to his chest. Her arms get crushed in his embrace but the comfort is all she needs to let it all out. She cries, loudly and embarrassingly but she can't bring herself to care. The past few days have been building and building up inside of her and it was only a matter of time before she cracked. She isn't sure how she's going to get rid of the nightmares, or get over her newfound fear of the ocean, but standing there in JJ's arms, she doesn't care.

"Kie," JJ murmurs against the curls near the crown of her head. "You were a fucking rockstar out there and you saved my life. I can never thank you. But don't you ever think you can't come to me for shit like this. I might not be the best person for it, but Kie, I promise I'll do my fucking best to help you through it."

Kiara pulls away from his chest, but JJ doesn't remove his arms. "J, I don't know what to do," she whimpers, "I can't fucking sleep."

"Fuck, I really wish we had weed here."

Kiara laughs, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. JJ's smile is pained; he always hated seeing Kiara in pain. And if tears are involved? Even less.

"Listen, if you can't sleep, I'll stay up with you. We'll talk until you're tired — or maybe having me right there beside you, alive and shit, you can tell your nightmares to fuck off because JJ Maybank is alive and kicking, baby."

Kiara laughs again, enjoying the hopeful glint in his blue eyes as he rambles. She responds with wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing the side of her face to his chest. She can hear and feel his heart beating and it brings her a sense of calmness.

"Kie, I'm so sorry," he mumbles quietly, "This is all my fault."

"I don't regret a single second," Kiara replies fiercely. She pulls back to drill it into him with her eyes, because she knows JJ and his self-blaming tendencies all too well. "I love you JJ and I would do it all over again. If I have to deal with nightmares just to have you here with me, then bring on the fucking nightmares."

Now it's JJ's turn to cough out a laugh, though it doesn't reach his eyes. It kills him to know that Kiara is suffering through all this pain and hurt — pain and hurt she's only dealing with because she saved his life.

"I love you too, Kie. And I promise I'm going to help you through this, okay? You're not alone."

Kiara's eyes search his face, ultimately landing on the side of his head that's still a tad bit sore from the hit he'd received less than a week ago. Her fingers reach up to caress it carefully and he schools his facial features to not let her know how sensitive that area of his skull is. He knows what she's thinking before she even says anything, and he sighs. "Just be careful, JJ," she says, surprising him with her words. "I don't want to lose you. I can't."

"You won't," he promises, and even though they both know it's a promise he can't keep, the conviction with which he says it nearly convinces her.

For a moment, it's just the two of them. JJ and Kiara. Best friends with endless possibilities.

Kiara thinks about it for only a second. She can kiss him right now, and he would probably welcome it. But she doesn't want to treat him like that; he means too much. Her hand slides down his bare arm instead, clutching his hand.

"No more shutting me out, okay?" JJ orders, though it lacks any authority. It's more of a pleading ask, than anything else. "Because JJ Maybank hates to be ignored and I tolerated it once, but I won't do it again, Kie."

Kiara's lips crack into a smile and it's like JJ can finally breathe easy once again. "Why do you keep talking about yourself in the third person? It's weird."

"Because it's effective."

"It's lame is what it is."

And suddenly they're back to their normal, bickering selves and JJ is wrapping a comforting arm around Kiara's shoulders as she nudges in close. He quietly promises to help her through her sleeping issues and her newfound water phobia as best he knows how. Both issues have to do with him nearly dying, and he hopes the fact that he is very much alive will help in overcoming them.

They start off slowly, JJ easing Kiara into the ocean as she clutches his hand for dear life. He makes joke after joke to make it easier. Sometimes it works and she forgets, sometimes it doesn't and she has to rush back to land. It's a process, but JJ has endless patience when it comes to Kiara and he's willing to do whatever it takes.

At night, they curl into each other, JJ's arms tucked around Kiara, while she tangles her legs with his. They talk until JJ accidentally dozes off, but it's alright, because Kiara lays her head against his chest and focuses on his heartbeat. That's how she falls asleep. She doesn't expect her nightmares about him to disappear just like that, and they don't, but with JJ's steady heartbeat underneath her, she's able to push past and get some actual sleep. In the morning, JJ apologizes profusely, but all Kiara can do is smile, as she's gotten some decent sleep for the first time since they arrived.

JJ becomes like her lifeline. It's the only way she'll survive the island.

Her parents are gone, and the pain is still fresh. She still worries about them and what they're feeling, but all she can do is think forward, on how she'll eventually make this up to them.

Her worries about JJ and his head wound don't subside either, but to her surprise, he's unbelievably more cautious as he horses around. He attempts to avoid situations where he might hit his head, and periodically asks Pope to check it out and make sure it's looking alright. Pope's knowledge is limited, especially since his fascination is with cadavers, but it's the reassurance it brings that counts. JJ also knows Kiara appreciates his cautiousness, and he'll do anything to see her smile softly at him, pride in her beautiful brown eyes.

Kiara isn't exactly surprised when she realizes she has feelings for JJ, but she is frustrated as hell. What she pulled with Pope earlier in the year wasn't cool and she'll never forgive herself for it. The realization makes her shove her feelings down, far away. She can't mess up another one of the most important relationships in her life.

Even when she gets the vibes that maybe JJ feels the same way, she still shoves her feelings down.

She notices it in the little things, such as staying back with her when their friends dive into the ocean, sitting beside her at the camp fire and throwing a comforting arm around her shoulders, pressing his face into his neck in his sleep, consistently reminding her how important she is to him.

It's starting to eat her up inside, and she hardly notices when she begins to pull away from JJ for both their sakes.

JJ notices, and he isn't fucking happy about it.

"Kie, I thought we talked about this," he says in a stressed voice, his fingers pinching the skin between his eyebrows. He had spotted her trek out into the woods for more firewood, and the urge to follow was just too strong. He's a weak man when it comes to Kiara.

Kiara startles, not having heard anyone follow her. She throws him a dirty look. "What are you talking about now, JJ?"

"You're doing it again!" JJ sputters, hands flailing as if that would drive his point home. "Pushing me away. I thought we agreed you wouldn't do that anymore."

"I'm not," Kiara replies automatically and JJ raises an eyebrow. "I'm not!"

JJ rolls his eyes, huffing out a scoff. "Oh, cut the bullshit, Kie. I told you I wasn't going to do this again with you, and I meant it."

Kiara visibly hesitates.

Does she want to spill her guts and tell JJ she's potentially falling for him? Absolutely not. But is he giving her much of a choice?

"Listen JJ, this isn't about you at all. I'm just — I don't want to hurt you or mess anything up, okay? Just  — please, don't ask questions."

Kiara absolutely butchers her explanation and she can tell by the unbelievably confused expression JJ wears.

"Kie, what the fuck are you talking about?"

She sighs, deciding maybe the best option is just to completely disappear from this conversation. JJ disagrees and he blocks her exit. "JJ, I'm begging you. Please."

"What the hell?" JJ asks, holding his arm out in front of her waist so she doesn't walk away from him. "Kiara, I swear to God—"

"What do you want me to tell you?" Kiara snaps, wild eyes darting to his confused blue ones. "That I'm staying away from you because I think I might love you and it took you nearly dying in my arms for me to figure it out? Or that I'm avoiding you because I seem to fuck up every important relationship in my life and I don't want to ruin you? Or ruin us—"

JJ interrupts, face completely blank as he says, "Shut the fuck up, Kie."

Kiara startles, shocked at his words, even though he doesn't say them angrily. She's bearing her soul to him and this is what she receives in return? She has half a mind to punch him in the throat, but then he continues.

"I've literally been in love with you since the fifth grade." That is definitely not what Kiara expects him to say. "Do you think I give a fuck if you think you're going to ruin me? Because I can assure you right now that you won't. You're one of the best fucking things to come out of my shitty life, and I don't want you to ever think you can ruin us, because you can't."

Kiara's gone speechless. For once in her goddamn life, she's absolutely speechless, and it's at the cost of her reckless, gorgeous, best friend who is currently staring at her as if she just offered him the fucking moon.

"Fifth grade?" Kiara croaks, her lips splitting into a bright smile.

JJ matches her smile, a slight blush creeping up his neck as he momentarily dodges her eyes. "Give or take. You were real annoying in fifth grade, Kie. Take this as a massive compliment."

"Oh, I do," Kiara laughs as her arms wind around his neck. She grabs onto his chin, dragging his gaze to focus back on her. His blue eyes are wide as they drop down to her lips.

Before either of them can make a move, Kiara says quietly, "Eighth grade."

"What?" JJ sputters in confusion.

"Eighth grade is when I momentarily saw you more than just JJ, my dumbass friend," Kiara explains, rolling her eyes at the smirk that graces his lips. "Momentarily!"

JJ chuckles, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Kiara's eyes track the movement. "I'll take it."

After another moment with no movement, Kiara huffs, tugging him closer. "Am I going to have to ignore you again for you to fucking kiss me or what are we doing here?"

"Pushy," JJ quips, nearly laughing at Kiara's murderous expression. "I always knew you wanted me."

"You know what? I've gone seventeen years without it, I can go seventeen more."

JJ's grin drops immediately when Kiara starts to pull away, so he tugs her closer and feverishly presses his lips to hers. He immediately slows down, wanting to savour this long awaited moment, but Kiara isn't interested in slow. Her hands slide into his fluffy hair as she deepens the kiss with a level of desperation she isn't even aware she possesses. Kiara absentmindedly tugs on his blonde locks and JJ lets out a low groan; she takes full advantage and sneaks her tongue into his mouth. JJ only groans louder.

"Holy fuck, Kie," JJ breathes against her lips when they inevitably pull away from each other to catch a breath. "I just always assumed you were an amazing kisser but Jesus Christ, I think I need to sit down."

Kiara wants to roll her eyes, but she finds herself laughing instead. "You're an idiot."

"Your idiot, though," JJ replies, then pauses. "Right?"

The moment of insecurity in his voice is telling, especially for a man who hates to show it. He wants to be sure they're on the same page, because it'll hurt too much if they aren't.

"My idiot," Kiara confirms, latching onto his hand.

JJ pulls on their intertwined hands, before adding in a condescending tone, "See what communication can do, Kiara?"

Regardless of what Kiara wants to fire back, he's absolutely right. But she can never leave him with the satisfaction.

So, she shoots him a glare and says, "You want to see what my foot in your ass can do?"

"That's kinda kinky, babe," JJ smirks, "Don't worry, I'm all for it, though."

Kiara doesn't argue in response, or follow through on her threats of bodily harm. She stands on her tip-toes and presses a gentle kiss to JJ's unsuspecting lips. When JJ looks at her with questioning blue eyes (though he's definitely not complaining), Kiara shrugs and says, "Just because I can."

She can and she does, very willingly.

JJ doesn't mind one single bit.

[my-makeshift-masquerade]

Riva Remembers

(A cheesy title for a fic I wrote while in the midst of an emotional breakdown, haha… I figured I’d post it on here because people seem to like my artwork of this OC so far. This is my first time writing these characters. Also I am on mobile and super duper tired from the aforementioned breakdown, so please pardon the long post. I have no idea how to put the read more thing on this… Regardless I hope someone enjoys this, I guess.)

“Agent Cruller, it’s me! Raz! I need to talk to you—“

“Sorry, senior staff only!” The old man in the mailroom office replied coldly, turning back to sorting the piles of letters with telekinesis.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” Nick’s voice came from farther into the mailroom, “I’m telling my dad!”

Razputin suddenly got an idea… He raced down to find his mentor standing there, eyes looking off in two separate directions. Another figure he recognized was on the verge of a nervous breakdown right next to him… Actually she looked like she had already been through multiple breakdowns before he even got here.

“Mr. Johnsmith?! Come on! It’s me! N-nick?!” The teen ran pale hands through her short brown hair, “Th-this is terrible! I am dead for sure!”

“Postage stamps…are scratch and sniff…” The pot-bellied man mumbled nonsensically beside her.

“Whoa, whoa, Riva…” The ten year old’s expression softened, “I was the one who found his brainless body… What do you mean you’re dead?”

“N-norma…she… t-told everyone I…”

“She thinks YOU’RE the mole?!” The child was taken aback, slightly angered even, “Why?!”

“I-I don’t know…M-maybe it’s because I didn’t notice the body before you…?” Riva sniffled, “It doesn’t matter… Agent Foresythe is going to have me detained…o-once she hears about this…”

“What?! No way!” He looked at her with determined eyes, “Don’t worry! I have a plan! I am going to get a new brain for Nick’s body, so he can let me into the mailroom office! Once I get there, I will be one step closer to proving you’re innocent!”

“Y-you really think… I-I’m innocent…?” Her tear filled blue eyes looked at him as if confused by his faith in her.

“I know you are!” He nodded, “Hey! Can you watch Ford for me until I get back? Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere!”

“F-ford…?” The other intern’s eyes narrowed at that name, as if she were squinting to see through a thick fog, “Ford…why does… Oh! Ford Cruller, right… He’s one of the psychic 6…” She shook her head, “Sorry, I am just…all over the place… These panic attacks take a lot out of me…”

“It’s all going to be okay.” The younger of the two gently took the other’s hand, waving to Nick before walking up to the office room, “Agent Cruller! This is my friend! She works in the mailroom—!”

“If she isn’t senior staff, that door ain’t openin’!” Ford declared before the boy could finish.

“Oh, I know!” Raz nodded, “This is Riva. She is having a hard time right now, and I don’t want to leave her alone. Maybe you two could talk or something?”

“Eh?! Oh, sure…sure thing…” The senior sounded slightly jostled for a moment, before returning to his distant demeanor, “Chit chat makes the sortin go faster…”

“Great!” The boy smiled at Riva before racing up to the exit of the mailroom, “I’ll be back as soon as possible!”

Soon after the sound of footsteps and levitation bubbles faded, the remaining intern heard the door creak open.

“Riva…” Cruller’s voice sounded slightly shaken, “I… Is it really you…?”

“S-sir…?” She frowned, “I-I don’t think we’ve met before…”

“Ah… I shoulda known you would’ve repressed it all…” He looked at the floor grimly, “They feared what you could become if you knew…”

“…W-what…?” The teen stepped away as the agent stepped closer, reaching a hand out to her. Eventually, she was against a wall.

“You…really were damaged by the feedback…weren’t you, kid…?” His bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern, “Back at Whisperin Rock… you remember that place, right…?”

Oh, that summer camp she got kicked out of only mere days in because she wasn’t even a real psychic?

“Yes, that’s the one.” Cruller answered her thoughts telepathically, “Except… you are psychic, Riva… Always have been… They just wanted you to believe you weren’t…so they could let you go back to society…”

Go…back…? Why wouldn’t she have been allowed to be in society if she was psychic? Isn’t that what the psychonauts are all about?

“You had potential, unlike what Nein Vodello and myself had ever seen from such a young mind… until Raz showed up, of course, but he was slightly older than you were…” He finally grabbed both of her hands, encasing them in his own, “You had such a gift with clairvoyance… it was beyond what the psychonauts ever thought was possible…”

“W-Wait…” She blinked, “You know Raz then? Why didn’t you just let him in the office…?”

“He’s not ready to learn the dark truths I’ve got tucked away in this old noggin…” The old man sighed, “I-I’m not ready for em, either… but… you are. You need to know the truth about yourself��� You need to stop disregarding me when I say this: You ARE psychic…”

“B-BUT I’M NOT!” Riva tried to pull her hands away from him, to which he gently released them from their hold, “T-THAT CAMP WAS THE WORST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME! I THOUGHT I WOULD FIND SOMEWHERE I BELONGED, THAT I WAS GOOD FOR SOMETHING! B-but… I wasn’t… I-I was so full of myself to think I was special! M-My brains just BROKEN—“

“Stop it right there.” His voice became firmer, “Listen to me, before someone comes! Your potent clairvoyance meant we didn’t need any altering technology to convince you of a lie… You are so in tune with other people’s viewpoints and perspectives… you don’t even know what your reality is anymore… Other people tell you who you are, what you do, where you go. No more playin pretend, Riva.”

“I-I…b-but…”

“You were a psychic of high potential even at age 7, with budding specialities in clairvoyance, and hydrokinesis….” He smiled, “You… you made friends with every single piece of me, kid… I took you under my wing to teach you what I knew… but hydrokinesis… was a feared ability due to…well… another incident... When that secret spilled…”

“N-no… I-I can’t be… I-I don’t remember any of this!“

“Nein feared that your age, your diagnosis of autism, both combined with your psychic potential could result in you developing powerful abilities beyond even your own control…” Ford shook his head, “Headquarters wanted to lock ya up for observation in a psychoisolation facility for life… but, Sasha found a loophole. By having someone tell you that their biased perspective was reality, your brain would doubt its own perception, and start to believe them. That’s how we managed to let you leave that campsite with your family…”

By this point Riva was speechless, as countless memories she thought she had selfishly dreamed about returned to her. She fell to her knees, staring at nothing as she was flooded with all that she had forgotten. The ruthless bullying at camp, and their sabotaging of her efforts to learn to use her powers… That time they tried to drown her in the lake and she washed them all ashore on accident… the horror on everyone’s faces… It all actually happened?!

There were some happy things hidden in the mess, though… The time she’d spend drawing the wildlife out there, the cool places to explore… and the single friend she made at camp… That’s right, the cook was always there to comfort her after the other kids picked on her… No, wait, it was the ranger… But then why’d she remember a janitor, and a man watching over the canoes…? Why did they all look the same, identical even…? Then there was one more in a psychonauts uniform…

“There ya go. Now you’re getting it…” His frail hand grabbed one of hers, helping her up with a chuckle. “I should look more familiar to ya now, eh?”

She made eye contact again, and felt so stupid for not noticing this before. Riva always had an interest in the psychonauts, because they seemed like they could tolerate different minds. If her family could afford it, she would even read True Psychic Tales, mainly because she admired the illustrations. How could she not realize she knew Ford “The Founder Of This Whole Place” Cruller until now?!

Yet, at the same time, she felt her eyes water. It was nice to know she had a friend back then, even if he was old enough to be her grandpa. She didn’t say a word, and extended her free arm as an invitation…for something she definitely needed and wouldn’t want to get from Nick. The agent understood, and they hugged for a brief moment. She felt like this had happened before.

“I-I… I’m glad to see you, Mr. Cruller, b-but…” She quickly shifted back to worrying, “I-I am not in the best situation to do much of anything regarding the truth right now… I know Norma is telling Hollis I am the spy in the psychonauts… I-I am going to get locked up in the end anyway… T-they didn’t believe me before… Why would they believe me now—?”

He was gone.

The intercom sounded, with Hollis’ sharp voice ringing out, “Would Riva Beckons please come to the main area IMMEDIATELY!”

[arewelonely]

wolfstar fix-it fic.

I was doing a rewatch of the hp series and got so frustrated... so wrote this to help fix everything. this takes place on The Night, so take care of yourselves if need be.

thank you @rivkahstudies for betaing:) all the love.

cw: brief vomit, mild blood, discussion of character death.

—

Remus landed with a gut punch, the winds of his Apparition spitting past his ears as his pupils dilated.

His breath halted, his throat caved in on itself. His heartbeat ran past his eardrum.

James. Lily. Harry.

The second floor of their house opened to the sky, the roof blown off into smithereens. The doorway was wide open, door shattered in pieces on the lawn. Remus couldn’t tell if lights were on in all the rooms or if a fire rampaged. Either way, crackling came from everywhere, sizzling in the leaves on the trees and coming from deep inside the house as the Potters’ possessions burned.

Debris cluttered the yard, an ashy blanket smothering the trees in the front, the now-charred mums at the doorway, the jack-o’-lanterns along the path. Remus took hesitant steps forward, eyes darting from one smoke-filled window to the next.

His gaze fell on four jack-o’-lanterns in his way–a gasp pushed itself out of his mouth and he clutched his chest.

A deer, a wolf, a dog, and a rat.

He struggled to swallow. Spun abruptly. Bent over, emptying his stomach. Fuck. The vomit splattered on the crisped grass and Remus heaved again at the noise and again at the smoky smell.

He brushed a hand across his face and coughed before turning away and walking towards the door–he needed to get to James, to see if he was okay, needed to find Lily, needed to protect Harry if his parents couldn’t–

A figure emerged in the doorway, panting out the smoke.

His stomach flipped.

He stopped breathing again and shot up his wand arm, directly at Sirius and Harry.

Where was James, where was Lily, he needed to get to them, couldn’t imagine what they were feeling, their best friend–

Sirius’ pants were stained with soot as he stumbled out of the house with Harry in his arms, eyes finally lifting once he stood out of the hazy smoke. His eyes flared when he saw Remus, torso twisting away and wand flying up as if to shield Harry from him. Remus’ jaw dropped.

“You will give Harry to me,” Remus said, each word deliberately leaving his mouth. He knew his arm shook with the urge to do something and spells raced through his brain, but he did not have faith in himself to hit only Sirius and not Harry. He did not have faith in Sirius to not use Harry as a shield–fucking Merlin.

“No, you will back up,” Sirius ordered right back. His eyebrows narrowed and he jutted his wand arm out again. “Get back.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Remus’ voice rose. His eyes pricked and his throat clenched. “Give me Harry right now, you fucking two-faced arsehole, you do not deserve to touch the son of the man who named you his godfather, betraying ass, hand him over!”

“I was not the one who betrayed them, Remus!” Sirius screamed back. “It was Peter, the slimy fuckwad who–” his voice broke, his wand shaking.

Before Remus could respond (fuck if Sirius thought he would believe this bullshit), Harry patted Sirius’ chest and leaned around to get into Remus’ viewpoint.

“Moony?”

Remus let out a shaky breath. Harry had blood on his forehead, but otherwise looked alright and whole, his body settled in the crook of Sirius’ arm. “Hi, Harry.”

The two men stared at each other, chests heaving, the only sound the crackling of their friends’ house in the background and the plants on the property shedding their leaves to the sky.

Harry patted Sirius’ chest again and Sirius slowly looked down at him, apparently hesitant to let Remus exist unscrutinized.

“Mama?” Harry gazed up at Sirius with wide eyes.

Sirius’ jaw jutted forward. His nose twitched. He looked back to Remus, his Adam’s apple jerking.

Remus gasped, stepping back. A jolt ran through his stomach, across his cheekbones. Sirius opened his mouth as if to say something and Remus lifted his wand higher. “Both of them?” he spluttered.

Sirius’ arm tightened around Harry and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth hard, eyes glancing up to the sky before returning to Remus’ again.

“Give Harry to me now,” Remus started forward. His hand gripped his wand so tightly, he could almost feel splinters in his palm.

Sirius twisted away again and shook his head fiercely. “It was not me!”

Remus let out a scream. “How could it have been anyone but you? You were their fucking Secret Keeper, Sirius! You betrayed them–”

Sirius’ head shook. “No, no! We switched it to Peter. Last week.” His voice broke out. He shifted Harry again. “Last week, we switched.”

Remus scoffed, heat rushing behind his ears. “You expect me to believe that bullshit? I’ve seen you multiple times since last week, Sirius, none of you told me–”

“I–” Sirius’ whole face winced, his mouth trembling. “We–I thought you might be working with them!”

A heavy gasp punched out before his mind had even worked through the logic.

He fell back again, his lungs empty. His wand remained facing Sirius, although who knew how much good it would do now, vibrating while his other hand covered his mouth. While he stared off into the dark forest.

His ears rang. Merlin. Merlin. They thought–

“What possible evidence could you have for such an outrageous accusation?” Remus roared.

Sirius jerked his head towards the woods desperately, eyebrows knit together. “You’ve been away with them for so long, so secretive, I–”

“I’M WORKING FOR THE ORDER!”

“–We live together, I didn’t want you finding out we switched and then–”

“And then what, I go on and tell someone? I put our friends’ lives in danger?” He scoffed and steadied his wand again. “This is a load of absolute shit, give Harry to me before I stun you both.”

“You will not stun us, and you are not getting Harry!”

The boy in question must have moved because Sirius flashed his eyes at Remus and then broke the eye contact, shifting to his godson briefly.

“You want me to accept that Peter betrayed us all, that he… murdered–”

Remus just couldn’t say it, not out loud, not in front of their son.

Sirius’ nostrils flared and then he was screaming back. “I did not betray my brother!”

“He was all our brother–”

“HE IS MY BROTHER!”

The shout echoed around the property. Sirius’ gaze remained steady amidst the twitches of his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth as he tried to keep his composure.

“Where is Peter?”

“I don’t know, when I got here there was no one except for…” Sirius shook his head and swallowed, clutching Harry tighter again. Remus could hear small whimpers.

“Why did you come here? You were supposed to be at the Burrow.”

“I just wanted to check in–”

Remus shot him a glare. “Out of the blue?”

“I had a feeling–”

“A feeling?” Remus shouted. “You expect me to believe a fucking–”

“Why are you here?” Sirius screamed.

“I–” Remus faltered. He shook his head. “I… something was…”

Sirius’ face crumpled. “Something was wrong.”

Remus was no longer sure whether he was breathing or whether the two just shuddered sorrow and anger back and forth. His chest felt empty like never before and his arm, still raised in front of him, shook fiercely.

The woods rustled to Remus’ left and he flinched, pivoting instantly to redirect his wand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Sirius had done the same, twisting Harry even farther away from this new source of danger.

Fuck, Remus couldn’t do this. He needed to get Harry away from Sirius, away from whatever was about to happen here–which took priority? He risked a glance at Sirius and found him returning the gaze. Strong brow, eyes set.

Remus stopped breathing.

Their friends… were dead.

Their friends were dead.

“Hullo? Who’s there?”

Remus adjusted his stance to prepare to duel and squinted into the woods. A tall, lumbering mass came into the light, ebbing and flickering from the house. Remus tensed, eyebrows furrowing.

The person stepped forward more, brandishing an umbrella in front of them. Remus’ lungs deflated halfway–Hagrid.

He walked closer, umbrella dropping to his side. “Oh, it’s just you lot, and little Harry’s okay, I–” Hagrid’s words faded as he was met with the two wizards’ still wielded wands.

“How do we know it’s actually you?” Sirius’ voice was clenched. He sounded like he did at Order meetings when Dumbledore gave out dangerous missions that meant separation for their friends.

“Why are you here?” Remus asked.

Hagrid nodded, “Professor Dumbledore sent me here to see if… He…”

Remus noted Hagrid’s red cheeks and the dripping eyes. Hagrid lifted his sleeve to his face.

“He had charms on the house to alert him if anything happened. Dumbledore wanted me to get Harry if need be.” Hagrid sniffled and watched the house for a moment before tearing his eyes away. He nodded. “I’m to bring him to his aunt and uncle’s, now.”

Remus hadn’t decided yet what he thought of this situation, this Hagrid situation, this Sirius situation; the situation in general lay in a damp mess across his brain–

But Sirius instantly exploded:

“There is no fucking way that is happening!”

“Dumbledore says it’ll be safest for him, away from–”

“Safest? They’re horrific, the whole lot of them!” Sirius turned his stoic glare at Remus briefly, then faced Hagrid again–

“Professor Dumbledore wants him protected–”

“I AM HIS GODFATHER!” Sirius screamed. Harry gave a whimper again and Remus could hear his squirming against Sirius’ jacket. Sirius’ jaw clenched and he lowered his voice to a growl: “Dumbledore can eat shi–”

Hagrid’s eyes darkened. “Do not speak ill of Dumbledore, now!” He started forward. Sirius lifted his back foot ever so slightly.

Remus moved instantly. He strode to Sirius, their wands still pointing at Hagrid’s now raised umbrella.

Sirius would not run in the other direction. Remus would not let him leave with Harry.

“Stand back,” he ordered Hagrid. “You do not get Harry.” Remus ignored Sirius’ pulsing next to him. Sirius would stay silent. Remus would deal with him once Hagrid was gone.

Harry wiggled in Sirius’ grasp again, his arms reaching over Sirius’ to get Remus’ attention.

“I need to take little Harry now,” Hagrid said. “Dumbledore said not to wait around here. More… You-Know-What’s could be coming.”

Remus grit his teeth. Hagrid had a point. He glanced over at Sirius, who adjusted the weight on his feet again.

“You will not leave without me,” Remus growled as low as he could.

“Harry does not go to–”

“I know.”

Hagrid cleared his throat and stepped forwards. “Now, I’m here on official business for Professor Dumbledore, I need to follow his orders and take Harry–”

“To the flat,” Remus muttered, and gripped onto Sirius’ arm hard, fingertips clenching into his boyfriend’s skin. He knew Sirius was already holding fast to Harry, and he spun them and the world. It all turned into a blur of red and orange against the char of their friends’ destroyed home.

––– 

Harry started sobbing the second they landed in the main room of their flat.

“I know, I know,” Sirius murmured, “Apparating doesn’t feel good. It’s alright, you’re okay now.” He looked down to where Remus’ fingers still dug into his forearm, then up to his face.

Remus startled back. Their eyes froze for a moment, Sirius bouncing Harry on his hip. Remus bit his lip at how deeply bloodshot Sirius’ eyes were. Tears welled up around the edges, or perhaps they had been there the whole time and he had just been too far away to see.

Harry let out another bawl, the volume rising rapidly, and Remus turned to the door and then the fireplace to cast extra wards. He wanted no one entering, not Voldemort coming back to finish the job, not Death Eaters carrying out his bidding, not Dumbledore coming to take their nephew. Remus glanced over his shoulder at Sirius settling Harry on his chest. He cast an extra ward: he wanted no one leaving this apartment tonight, either.

He returned slowly to Sirius. He braced himself. He extended his arm, palm face up, open wide.

Sirius stared at it, murmuring something soothing to Harry, and then he stopped in the middle of a sentence. Remus saw everything click for him just as Harry began to wail more loudly.

“No, no,” Sirius said. He shook his head as he swayed back and forth for Harry.

Remus gave a firm nod and extended his arm further. His wand dangled in his hand at his other side. Sirius glared at it.

Harry screamed.

Sirius opened and shut his mouth a few times. His eyes bared wide and his head shook minutely.

Harry screamed and rocked back and forth in Sirius’ arms, almost tumbling out of Sirius’ clutch.

Sirius shifted Harry fully to one hip, dug his wand out of his pocket. “Fuck you,” he spat. He slapped it into Remus’ hand and turned around, instantly recommencing his talk to Harry.

Remus sighed and pocketed both wands, walking slowly over to the attached kitchen. He poured two glasses of water. He sipped from his and placed the other on the table by the couch… Sirius glanced down at it and then back to the fridge. Sirius closed his eyes on a dark roll. He opened them at Remus.

“We have milk?”

Remus stared at Sirius and watched him rub circles into Harry’s back. Harry whimpered. “I… I can check.” He gave Sirius a once-over and then went to open the fridge again, waiting half a beat as the cool air rushed over him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sirius said. “I can’t, you have my fucking wand, but… I’m not going anywhere.” His voice wasn’t raised, perhaps even a little lower than usual, but the hurt was there all the same.

Remus knew that Harry liked to sleep on their chests while they talked, Lily said it was something about the rumbling sensation being similar to pregnancy. Harry’s sobs were already just sniffles, and Sirius went back to mumbling to him as he watched Remus. And Remus knew he was being watched, even with his back to him, as he got the sippy-cup from the cupboard and poured some milk.

“You’ll forgive me,” Remus responded. He returned to the living room and walked close to Sirius, doing his best to keep his breath steady. “Hey, Harry, hi, bud.”

Harry turned his face from Sirius’ chest–soot around the edges, blood on his forehead, teary shine around his eyes and all on the apples of his cheeks.

“Want some milk?” He held the sippy-cup close so Harry could grab it.

Harry’s face reddened and contorted, and Sirius shifted him before Harry’s wail could rise again to its full volume. He took the cup from Remus, their fingers entangling as the cup transferred hands, and Remus watched as Sirius’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he resumed his talk to Harry–

“Here, bud, come on, we’re gonna go and wash up, okay? You’ll have some milk, I’m going to get a nice warm washcloth–”

Remus rushed to the bathroom ahead of them. He yanked open the cabinet and pulled down the supplies–washcloth, wizarding healing balm, Muggle healing balm.

He sat on the edge of the tub as Sirius came in, cradling Harry and perching on the toilet. He took the washcloth Remus handed to him.

“Mm, nice and warm, hm? Have some milk, I’m just going to wipe this off, here, and then…”

Sirius halted. He frowned. Harry’s eyes lifted from his sippy-cup to watch as Remus leaned in closer.

On Harry’s forehead. The blood was not just a non-magical gash, or even a spell that had bounced off of something else and accidentally hit Harry. A zigzag, a lightning bolt, etched deep. Dark magic, aimed at Harry. Magic with the intent to hurt a one year-old.

Sirius’ hand curled into a fist around the washcloth. His jaw set and his arm shook until the pressure on the washcloth caused some water to wring out on the floor. Remus watched Sirius’ lips quiver and his eyes go dark looking at his godson’s injury. The wound was wet, and even after Sirius passed the washcloth over it a few more times, the scar still filled with blood.

Remus cleared his throat. “Here, we’ve got some ointment for you.” He lowered his gaze to Harry’s eyes.

The green was piercing.

He pressed a smile on to his face. “Is it okay if I dab a bit on?” He tilted the container so Harry could see, waited for the nod behind the cup.

He used the numbing Muggle balm first, then the wizarding one. He wasn’t sure the wizarding medicine would do anything drastic, as this… Yeah, this was an intensely magical scar. Remus pushed back Harry’s hair and smoothed the bandage. Voldemort had truly tried to murder a one year-old after murdering his parents.

Remus’ fingers stilled.

Voldemort had tried to murder a one year-old after murdering his parents. Why could he not succeed?

“Alright now, time to go to sleep, alright?” Sirius’ voice was soft and gravelly, his head ducking around so Harry could see him. Remus fixed the lids on the medicine.

“Padfoo…”

“Mhm? It’s bedtime now, let’s go get you all cozy…” Sirius lifted Harry up so his head lay on his shoulder and dropped the washcloth in the sink on his way out. Remus watched from his spot on the bathtub as the blood trickled down to the drain.

“Want Mama…”

“I know, bud. Sleepy time now, though, okay?”

“Dada…”

Remus dropped his head to his hands as he heard Sirius take a shuddering breath. They were in Remus and Sirius’ bedroom, now. Remus could picture Sirius’ face trembling.

“Night night, Harry. I love you.”

“Love you, Padfoo.”

Remus’ head fell in between his knees and his eyes gave up trying. His tears dropped to the ground. His shoulders shook. He did his best to keep his breathing down, both for the baby in the next room and for the man trying to help the baby to sleep. But a few sorrowful noises crept out anyway, from deep in his throat where he had no control.

He wanted to sob without care for the people in his apartment. He wanted to lock the bathroom door shut and stand in the shower until the heat burned him away. He wanted to walk into his bedroom and stare at the man inside and feel reassured, but instead he sat and cried as silently as possible and listened as Harry’s breathing steadied and Sirius walked to the doorway of the bathroom.

Remus watched Sirius’s feet as they shifted weight.

“I left–” Sirius coughed. “I left the door open,” he continued hoarsely. “Just a bit. I wanted to be… if he needs anything.”

Remus nodded. He peered at Sirius’ face. He blinked up his lashes, the tears dripping off.

Sirius convulsed, instantly, his mouth scrunching and the corners of his eyes turning down.

“Re.”

His voice was a shell of itself and the two stared at each other and knew the other needed a hug–no, not a hug, that was too proper a sentiment for what they needed. The two stared at each other and knew the other needed human contact, arms wrapped around each other and fingers digging into the other’s back, pressing closer until their heartbeats could echo each other. They needed to shove their noses into the crook of their boyfriend’s neck and shake and hold each other up as the other struggled to stand. They needed to stumble to their room and crawl under the covers on either side of Harry Potter and grip hands and stare at him and each other.

But Sirius had thought (or still did think) that Remus would betray them all.

And Remus had thought (and his stomach wouldn’t stop insisting) that Sirius had betrayed the boy and girl they had grown up with.

This was a difficult, deep in his gut feeling to push aside.

Sirius cleared his throat. “I don’t know where…” he shuddered. “I don’t know where to find Peter. I want to–”

Remus stood abruptly and walked forward. “You aren’t leaving.”

“No,” Sirius frowned, “I know, I’m not leaving you and Harry–”

“No,” Remus clarified, “you aren’t leaving because you could send them all back here.”

Sirius startled back. “Remus, I–you seriously–”

“No, I,” Remus pressed his hands to his head. “I can’t do this in the bathroom. Move.” He needed more space, to be able to pace. He looked into his bedroom and saw the bundle of blankets on the bed where Harry breathed softly.

“He’s asleep,” Sirius said quietly from behind him. “He’s peaceful right now.”

Remus could feel Sirius’ heat. If he leaned back, Sirius would catch him.

“You thought I would betray you,” he spat out, spinning to see the instant torture on Sirius’ face.

“I–I did not know. Peter is our friend–” Sirius glanced at the open bedroom door and backed up. Remus knew he was trying to shield Harry from the noise. Remus knew there was no way either of them would use a charm to separate the two of them from Harry right now, even just a Quietening one. Remus didn’t know what to make of it all.

“I am your…” Remus shook his head, hands kneading on his temple. “Fuck, I’m nothing to you.”

“You are my soul.”

“No, I’m not. I am clearly not. I would never harm them, I would die before–”

“You thought I had–”

“I have evidence!” Remus hissed. Sirius’ entire face sunk. “What the hell did you have, Sirius?”

Sirius wept. “I had–we had doubts.”

Remus punched out a breath again. “They doubted my loyalty too?”

Sirius lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “You were away often. You were unresponsive when you were here, it… it was hard to know what was going on with you.”

“You were living with me.”

Sirius jerked his head at the past tense. Remus held the eye contact; he did not get to pull emotions here. He would defend himself or Remus would stun him.

“I figured if something was actually going on, I would figure it out sooner or later, but James and Lily, they didn’t have that–”

Sirius fell to the couch and rested his head in between his knees, palms covering his face.

Remus bit down hard on his lip. James and Lily didn’t have that kind of time.

“They…” The sentence died in his throat.

Sirius met his hesitant stare. “James had fallen by the doorway,” he whispered. “Lily was in Harry’s room. Harry was in his crib, um, just… staring at her.” He shuddered and the tears began a new flow. “He lifted his arms and called my name when I walked in, asking for Lily and James as we…” his voice lowered to just a breath, “passed them.”

Sirius curled forward more and Remus could no longer tell the difference between his own heaving cries and breaths for sustenance.

Remus crouched down in front of Sirius and pulled both wands out of his pocket. He set them on the table and bit his lip.

Sirius looked up through his lashes. Not at the wands, not at the table.

Remus frowned and chewed his lower lip.

Sirius shuddered out another sob and held Remus’ gaze. “I did not murder James and Lily.” He blinked and tears rushed out. “I did not betray our family.”

Remus moved forward, into Sirius and on to the couch. Remus wrapped one of his legs around Sirius’ hips and pulled him close, his hand clutching at Sirius’ shoulders, Sirius grabbing both the front and back of Remus’ shirt, his curled and smokey hair tickling the bottom of Remus’ chin and then taking over all of Remus’ senses as he pressed his face into the top of Sirius’ head. He wrapped his arms around Sirius’ back and the two rocked back and forth.

“Remus, Re–” Sirius sobbed.

“I–” Remus shut his eyes so the whole world turned black. “I’m so sorry.”

Remus grabbed him tighter.

[rogershoe]

Lights, Camera, Action

Part five

(Part four)

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a production assistant on the set of Cursed. The night before your first day at work, you opened your laptop to shockingly realise you’d be working with Daniel Sharman (and a plethora of other amazing actors), someone you’d been watching on screen since you were a teenager. You kept your expectations low, the PAs rarely got to interact with the talent…what was your chance?

Word count: 2.6k

Tag list: @sxperncturalimpala67 @mrsaaronkeener @tinygardensoul @disasterday​ @5am-cigarette @lancelotapricot @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @slytherlight @18somethingpsyche @ceruleanmusings@glxctt@cavillxhenry@lovelyapplessss@hereagainsstuff@linkpk88@aliceperdida@weeping-redemption@magicalsaladnacho@lancelotapricot@ineedyourskulls@fandomarstrash@cheythefangirl @pure-ghost @estrielle @tessxblxckthorn @isaac-lahey-is-bae​ @bubblyanis​ @proudhufflepuff77​

Warnings: age gap between reader and Daniel, swearing, blood/fear of blood, reader gets injured (cut on her finger), slow burn

Notes: This chapter is a lot shorter than the last one but also definitely more exciting!! I hope you guys like it and plzz lmk in the comments whether this was alright or not! I know that the plot of this part is a bit exaggerated but bare with me hahaha

You looked at Daniel and found that he had closed his eyes and Jasmine was dabbing a bit of powder over his T zone…probably to absorb the excess oil that she had proudly told you he didn’t have. 

“Do you do a lot of makeup yourself?” Jasmine asked you

“Not usually but sometimes I guess” you said

“So you know all the different brushes?”

 You thought back to the hours of mindless makeup videos you would spend hours watching at 3:00 am when you couldn’t sleep. 

“Yep, I do actually” you said confidently. Thank god you weren’t completely clueless in this new endeavour.

“Oh awesome! That’ll make all of this so much easier Y/N”

You laughed, happy that you were doing something right. You honestly just could’ve spent this whole time looking at Daniel but you obviously didn’t want to seem like a creep. You wondered if he recognised you from the battery station or his trailer. Not likely…you doubted that your face was all that memorable. 

“Can you pass me the spoolie?” she said, closing the powder and putting it on the counter. “It’s in the first drawer”

You quickly opened the drawer, and bent down to look through it. You were uncomfortably self conscious of how close you were to Daniel, your hips were almost brushing against his chair. 

Thankfully you spotted the spoolie and grabbed it, standing up straight and using your free hand to close the drawer. As you turned to give it to Jasmine, you took the opportunity to glance at Daniel. What you didn’t anticipate was to find his piercing eyes looking right back at you. His lips turned up and he smiled slightly at you. A small smile spread across your face and you felt your cheeks heat up.

 You hoped he didn’t notice you blushing and quickly turned away as Jasmine took the tool from your hand. You looked at her and saw her narrowing her eyes suspiciously at you. Trying to act natural, you looked around to see Cassandra walking back to you from talking to an extra across the trailer. Although she was one of the head make-up artists, she didn’t seem that old at all and looked to be in her early thirties.

“How’s it going Y/N? Not too overwhelmed I hope?” she said, a snide smirk on her face.

You swallowed slightly and attempted to sport a carefree smile on yours, “No, not yet”

She ignored your answer and instead went to look at Daniel. 

“Oh your beard needs a quick trim” she said laughing

Daniel smiled, “Do you have to? I’m trying to grow it out” he said laughing and running a hand across his jaw. You could tell by his expression that he was joking. 

Cassandra giggled like a little school girl making you raise your eyebrows and your stomach lurch. You could tell she was enjoying working with Daniel just as much as you

“Y/N, pass me the facial scissor” 

You looked towards the counter where she was pointing and saw a tin full of multiple small scissors, some open some closed. As you wrapped your fingers around one of the tools, you felt a sharp pain on your index finger and quickly pulled your hand away, the scissor clattering onto the floor. As you had snatched your hand from the tin, the scissor had probably dragged across your finger, making your injury deeper and longer. You looked at your finger, beads of blood falling from the deep cut and cursed under your breath. Why did you have to be so fucking clumsy?

You looked at the floor and saw the scissor at Daniel’s feet, where he was already picking it up. 

“ Oh god…I’m so sorry” you said and grabbed a tissue to try to dab the blood away. You looked at Daniel through the mirror and saw him looking at you. 

“Are you okay?” he said, and for a second after hearing his voice, you forgot all about your bleeding finger.

Before you could respond, Cassandra interrupted you, “I’m sure she’s fine…right Y/N?”

You nodded clutching your finger and trying not to wince, the pain was slowly increasing.

“Go and get cleaned up Y/N” she said, her face showing sincerity…whether it was real or not you couldn’t tell. 

“Thank you” you were about to leave when you heard Jasmine’s voice, 

“Can I go with her Cassandra?”

“Of course not…who else is supposed to help me if you’re gone too?”

You ignored her response and walked out of the trailer thankful that at least there was one person in there who liked you. 

When you got outside you weren’t surprised to find your vision going slightly hazy. You could watch hours of gory, bloody fights and killing on your TV but the second you saw anyone, (especially yourself) bleeding in real life, your warped brain suddenly decided it was time for you to start fainting. 

You walked to the side of the tall trailer and leaned against the vehicle, taking deep breaths. The metal was still wet from the rain this morning and so was the ground. Your head started throbbing and you hoped with everything that no one would walk out of the trailer and see you. The only people who had seen you before like this were your parents and Talia…it was rare for you to bleed anyways. 

For some reason your vision and head weren’t getting any better. It was probably the lack of sleep or food and water you had had since you had stupidly decided to skip breakfast this morning. You knew you had to sit down so you walked to the edge of the trailer farther from the door and sat on the tarmac. It was wet and you felt the water soak through your jeans. You put your elbows on your bent knees and your throbbing head in your hands. It was only your second week and you were already lightheaded. If only you had been more careful while grabbing the stupid scissor. 

You tried not to look at your finger that was now wrapped in the thin tissue you had hurriedly grabbed. That was probably a bad idea since the rough material would most likely start to stick to the blood. You took a deep breath and glanced at your finger to see the tissue was soaked through..how deadly was that scissor?

You suddenly heart footsteps coming towards you and quickly looked up, scared to see who it was. You breath caught in your throat and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating when you saw Daniel’s face come into view. Oh god….out of all the people it had to be him?

“Fuck, are you okay?”, you saw his lips move as he came over to you and knelt down.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine” you said and looked at him. Even in your awful state you noticed the way one strand of his hair fell across his face and how soft his dark blue hoodie looked. 

“Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah…definitely” you lied. To prove yourself right, you swallowed and put your uninjured hand on the ground and stood up. Of course you did it too fast and suddenly your vision went blurry again. You reached out a hand to lean it against the trailer but instead of feeling the cold metal of the vehicle, you felt warm skin. You looked up quickly to find that Daniel had taken your hand in his. Now that you were standing you were even more intimidated by how his tall figure towered above you. For a second that felt like minutes, you stared at both your hands….was he seriously holding yours right now? Maybe it was a sick illusion your brain had conjured up. 

“Oh no you aren’t” he said laughing slightly. He looked at the door of the trailer before gripping your hand tighter with his long fingers, probably afraid that you’d collapse again. Nevermind, it definitely wasn’t an illusion. Your heart beat faster because of the close proximity you two were in. 

“I think you should come with me” he said looking worried.

“What? No, I can’t” you said shaking your head, the concrete dancing underneath your eyes. 

You looked up at him and saw the confused look on his face, your head still throbbing, “Cassandra would kill me”

You saw the glint in his eyes as he grinned slightly, “Cassandra? I’ll deal with her…we need to get some fluid into your body or you could faint”

You knew he was right, you were just scared that if you were alone with him you might just end up fainting anyways. 

“It’s okay…honestly, I can just go get some water myself” you said not wanting to trouble him, he probably had to get back to the trailer anyways. 

“I have water in my trailer, I was on my way there to get my phone anyways”

You smiled through your pain and gave in, “Okay…thank you”

He smiled and started walking towards his trailer. You found yourself gripping his hand tightly, not because you wanted to but because you had to. Your knees felt like they would give away if you didn’t. The fact that it was Daniel Sharman’s hand was just a huge plus. 

Once you finally got to his trailer he stopped by the stairs and gestured for you to go in. You smiled gratefully and stumbled up the stairs into the familiar trailer. Your head was getting better now as Daniel had almost completely distracted you from your cut. 

He came inside behind you but didn’t close the door. 

“You wanna wash that up?” he said looking at the cut and grimacing slightly. He gestured to the door that you had suspected would lead to the bathroom.

You blushed and looked down at it, completely and utterly embarrassed. It was bloody and disgusting. 

You rushed into the bathroom and slowly peeled the tissue away, wincing at the pain. The blood had dried up and pulled at your torn skin. It hurt and tears welled up in the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away quickly. You finally got it off and threw it into the toilet and then flushed it (not wanting to dirty his dustbin). 

You turned the tap on and ran your finger underneath it, closing your eyes in pleasure at the cool stream. 

“Do you need help?” you heard his voice from outside the bathroom.

“No no..I’m alright” you said quickly. He had already wasted so much of his time on you so you tried to hurry up and closed the tap. The bleeding had thankfully almost stopped but the cut was still raw. 

You walked outside and found him bending down looking through a mini fridge. 

“Oh good you’re okay” he said smiling and gesturing to the purple couch, “sit down”

He pulled a bottle of orange juice from the fridge and handed it to you, “Here Y/N”

Your eyes widened when he said your name. 

You grabbed the cold bottle, “You know my name?”. As soon as you realised what you had said in your hazy state you looked down and wanted to slap yourself. Had you really just asked him that?

He laughed showing his teeth and you couldn’t help but smile as well when he sat beside you on the other side of the couch, “Of course I do….Cassandra said it like ten times”

For some reason your heart ached at her mention. 

You suddenly felt a wetness where you were sitting and remembered the ground had been completely wet where you had sat down. You hurriedly got up and looked at the couch which was now also damp where you had been sitting. Fuck, you had lost count of how many times you had embarrassed yourself in front of Daniel just today. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry” you said, and clasped a hand over your mouth

“Oh no, it’s fine” he said sporting a confused expression. 

“It was raining outside” you said hurriedly, not wanting him to think it was some other accident.

He looked at you a soft grin on his face, “I know, don’t worry”, his voice was oddly soothing, calming your nerves almost immediately. 

He walked to a cupboard near the bathroom and pulled out a towel. He placed it on the damp spot.

“There we go” he said smiling. He put his hands on his hips, looking at you and then towards the couch, “you can sit now”

You did but decided you had bothered him enough for one day.

“I should get going now…I’m so sorry for troubling you” you said getting ready to get up. 

“Wait your cut…and drink some before you get up” Daniel said softly, pointing to the bottle in your hand. You opened it and took a sip, you could feel the sweet cold liquid travel down your throat and through your chest. You took another.

“Feels good doesn’t it?’ he said from his position on the counter. From what could you see, he was rummaging through his wallet. He pulled out a large bandage and came over to you.

“Here…it won’t do much but it’ll keep the cut covered until you can get it wrapped by the medic inside the studio” he quipped handing it to you. 

“Thank you so much…seriously” 

“Do you need help putting it on?” he said grabbing his phone and putting it into his back pocket. 

“Oh no, I’ll manage….I’m sorry again”

“I have to go now but you stay here as long as you like, okay?” he said. 

“Thanks” you said smiling, who knew he would be so nice?

“Oh and do me one favour” he said grinning, as he was making his way out the door.

“Anything” you replied, curious to hear what he had in mind.

“Stop apologising” he laughed, before leaving the trailer. 

You smiled widely to yourself. 

Had this all really just happened? Seeing Daniel was insane in itself but actually interacting with him? You honestly still didn’t understand how you got a word out of your mouth. He seemed intimidating, but when he spoke to you, his voice was soothing and you felt like you could’ve talked to him forever. You looked down in awe at the hand he had held. You knew you were acting like a crazy fangirl, but you couldn’t surpress your emotions all the time. 

You snapped back to reality when you felt your cut suddenly sting. He had said there was a medic inside the studio. You got up quickly, Cassandra was probably wondering where you were and you had to get your finger wrapped first. 

8:12 am

You took a deep breath as you walked up the stairs of the make up trailer to Cassandra, Jasmine, and Daniel. You hoped that Cassandra wouldn’t be mad at you for taking so long. You hadn’t realised how bad the cut actually was until you took it to the on set medic and he wrapped your fingers in who knows how many layers of gauze. 

Your heartbeat accelerated as you opened the door slowly. You thankfully calmed down when you saw that everyone was loud and bustling around, no one had even noticed you had entered. You walked over to Daniel’s chair, where Jasmine was looking closely at the mirror. As you got closer you saw that there were multiple pictures of the weeping monk stuck into the frame of the mirror. She whipped her head around when she saw you in the mirror. 

“Y/N!” A worried expression adorned her face, “are you okay?”

“Oh yeah I’m fine…It looks worse than it really is” you said waving your finger in the air to show her. 

“Are you sure? Are you okay to help us?”

“Oh yeah definitely” you said scoffing, “It’s nothing”

She smiled, “Okay good”

You looked in the mirror at Daniel. He was looking at you, a knowing smile on his face. You looked away. You still couldn’t believe that he had seen you in such a flustered and sick state. It had been exciting when he had helped you but now you realised that he probably thought you were some kind off freak, going berserk over such a small amount of blood. 

All of a sudden feelings of sadness, anger and embarrassment flooded over you. Sadness because this was essentially the first impression that Daniel had of you, and anger directed towards yourself for freaking out like you did.

[hoboal87]

Elastic Heart Chapter Fifteen (Fin)

Title: Elastic Heart - Stay

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Cordelia Y/L/N, OFC’s

Pairing(s): Sam x Reader, Reader x OMC

Summary: In the aftermath of the final Trial, Dean reaches out to Y/N. Dean is willing to do whatever it takes to save Sam, but is he going to push Y/N too far?

Word Count: 13.4k(!)

Warnings: Angst, Bits of Fluff, Character Injury, Major Character Death, Time Jump, Implied Smut.

A/N: Series is mostly canon compliant, taking place during season 8/9. For the purposes of this fic Sam was born in '84 instead of '83.

A/N 2: Here it is, the final chapter! I have to thank my wonderful, awesome beta @deanwinchesterswitch! Kym, you are the best, thank you so much for making this fic the best possible version of itself. I will definitely miss our RIDICULOUSLY long notes and comments. I literally cannot say thank you enough for putting up with my crazy brain-dumps and last minute changes. 

Elastic Heart Masterlist

Read Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen: Stay

Y/N POV

I take a deep breath as I pull out my phone and set the timer, setting the test next to two others. Stupid, I chastise myself, putting yourself in this position again. I lean against the counter before sliding down onto the floor, still being mindful of my arm. I stare blankly at the wall and let my mind wander. We were careless, so caught up in the moment, nothing else seemed to matter at the time. What were the odds of this happening again? The thought hadn’t even entered my brain until after Crowley’s attack. It’s been over a week, and I can still hear his words as clear as the day he said them. Sam didn’t come back to you, choosing girl after girl. Would you like to know the real cause of your parent’s accident? You are the ultimate bargaining chips. He must’ve known; it would explain his taunts about having Cordy call him ‘father.’ The buzzing of my phone pulls me out of my thoughts, I expect to see the timer, but it’s Dean’s name popping up on the caller ID. I reject the call without a second thought; he and Sam are the last people I want to talk to right now.

I haven’t even had the chance to put my phone back down before it starts vibrating again. A glance tells me it’s Dean calling again. “It’s 7 am, Dean,” I grumble, staring down at my phone. Whatever is causing him to reach out after nearly three months of complete silence must be important, at least to him. I hesitate briefly before rejecting the call.

I check the timer, two minutes. Crowley’s voice is in my head, and I’m back to that night again. Your precious Y/N is running out of time, Sam. As soon as we moved in, I was going to reach out to Sam, tell him I was ready for him to be a part of mine and Cordy’s lives. We still had our issues to work through, but Cordy had expressed more than once that she was ready to know him, and at the time, I started to forgive him. Sam repeatedly called after Crowley had left me, but Crowley’s words were all too fresh in my mind.

I peer into my room to see Cordy sleeping soundly in my bed. She’s afraid to leave me at night, something that I can’t blame her for. As I watch her sleep, my mind drifts back to the morning after Crowley’s attack.

I was trying to keep myself calm as I read through Sam’s multiple apology-ridden messages. I didn’t care that he was sorry; it couldn’t make up for the fact he and Dean had left us so utterly vulnerable to their enemies. I watched from the living room window as Cordy walked back over; I didn’t know how to explain my injury to her and how much of the truth I could tell her without further traumatizing her. I couldn’t lie my way out of it, but demons were not something I knew how to explain to a ten-year-old. Tears welled in Cordy’s eyes the minute she caught sight of me; she could see through my forced smile, she ran to me and wrapped her arms tight around my waist.

“Hey.” I tried to soothe her, using my good arm to rub a hand down her back. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” I half lied. “Couple of months, and I’ll be good as new.”

Cordy’s grip briefly loosened when I moved us onto the couch, I couldn’t pick her up like I wanted to, but I wasn’t going to stop her from crawling into my lap and burying her head into my shoulder. I let her weep against me; through her sobs, I heard a muffled ‘mom.’

It had been weeks since she’d called out for mom or dad when she was scared. By the time we had moved, her nightmares about the accident had become fewer and farther in between. Cordy had taken to climbing into my bed and letting me lull her back to sleep whenever one had woken her up.

“I know,” I whispered, trying to keep my tears at bay. “I miss them too.”

Cordy pulled away, her face blotchy, eyes blood-shot, and shook her head. “You’re my mom, Y/N,” she mumbled. “I do-don’t wanna lo-lose you too.” Cordy splutters through her tears. “You-you’re all I– I have le-left.”

I choked back a sob; she’s right; we only have each other. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t count on Sam to be there if something ever did happen to me. Cordy already lost one set of parents; I didn’t want to think about her losing Sam or me.

The vibration of my phone causes me to jump as it brings me back to the present. I sigh as I look down at the phone, rejecting the call. “Take the hint, Dean,” I mutter to myself. I check the timer, thirty seconds. I reach for the first test and vaguely remember an x-ray technician asking me if there was any possibility of me being pregnant. At the time, I didn’t even think about it; my night with Sam was the furthest thing on my mind.

I mindlessly chew away at my fingernails as the phone vibrates again, and I silently plead for it to stop. Relief floods through me when it does; maybe it’s finally gotten through to Dean that I don’t want to speak to him. The timer chirps and I grab the test off the counter and cover the results box with my hands. I close my eyes for a brief moment, praying that somehow I’m wrong. I take a shuddering breath as I slowly open my eyes, letting them land on the word ‘pregnant.’

Dean’s name briefly fills the screen again before I reject the call, setting my phone down on the tile. Surely he’ll get the message that I am intentionally not answering. I pull the second test off of the counter, pregnant. I don’t bother with the third. Even if somehow it was negative, the two positive pregnancy tests can’t both be wrong. I choke back a sob as I run through all of my options in my head. I can’t believe this is happening again. What am I going to tell Cordy? What about Sam? We weren’t in a good place when he left—that stupid fight.

The loud buzzing doesn’t just annoy me this time; it makes me want to pick up my phone and throw it against the wall. I grab my phone off the floor, and for a brief moment, I think of smashing into hundreds of pieces. I shake the thought out of my head before contemplating whether I should answer the call, my thumb hovering between the red and green circles.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you, Dean,” I say before ending the call, not giving him the chance to respond. I look back down at the test again, praying, willing it to change. I know it won’t, it was the first time I had sex in months, and of course, it’s with Sam fucking Winchester who had to go and get me pregnant. “Perfect vessel for Winchester children,” I mumble and let out a dry laugh. I wonder if the angels knew about this one, I chuckle to try to keep myself from crying, but the tears fall anyway, and my laughter quickly devolves into sobbing. Pregnant. Again. My phone chirps, 6 missed calls - Dean Winchester.

“Fuck,” I mutter as his name pops up again. I push the bathroom door closed, not wanting to wake Cordy. I clear my throat and wipe the tears away, taking a long and calming breath before accepting the call. “What do you want, Dean?”

“Y/N, don’t hang up, please, just–” Dean sighs, “I know you’re pissed, and you have every right, but–”

“Pissed is the understatement of the year.”

“Y/N–”

“The fucking King of Hell showed up on my doorstep. Came into my home and threatened the lives of both my daughter and me.” I hiss while trying to keep my voice down. “You know, I actually believed Sam when he said that Cas would show up if I prayed to him. Do you wanna know how many times I prayed for him to help? He did nothing, showing up hours later, giving some bullshit excuse about us not being in ‘real’ danger.”

“I–”

“What’s your excuse, Dean? Are you calling to apologize? You think that’ll make it all better? I don’t want your apology.” I can hear him huffing in anger on the other end. “Have a nice life, Dean.”

“Wait just a goddamn minute, Y/N,” he snaps before letting out a loud sigh and softening his voice. “I– I’m sorry. You have to believe that we didn’t know. If we even thought there was a chance of Crowley... we wouldn’t have let it happen. Sammy and I would’ve shown you how to protect yourself. Y/N, Sam has more guilt about Crowley than you’ll ever know. We didn’t think he knew about you or Cordy.”

“He said he’d been watching me for weeks,” I say, memories of that night playing in my head. “Weeks, Dean.”

“You would have been safe if you had stayed in Weldon,” Dean grumbles.

“The phone works both ways, Dean,” I murmur, trying to lessen my own guilt about leaving. “If you or Sam had bothered to keep in touch, you’d have known that we were planning to move.”

“Bullshit, Y/N,” Dean growls. “You stopped responding to Sam’s messages the day we left Weldon. You didn’t want to accept his apology, and at the time, as much as it broke him, he understood. You had no intention of telling us that you were moving. You can spout out crap about us not reaching out to you, Y/N, but you said it yourself, the phone works both ways.”

I let Dean’s words sink in. I’d threatened Sam with taking Cordy far away from him, but that wasn’t what the move was about; Cordy and I needed a change. I was able to leave so much of my baggage behind. I didn’t have to lie anymore; I didn’t have to carry the shame that my parents had made me feel for years.

“You asked for space, for time, and we were– are trying to respect that. You asked us to leave Weldon, and we did. I practically had to drag Sam outta there. He didn’t wanna leave you again, but I got his ass in the car, and we left. And all I heard from Weldon to Lebanon was how he wanted to tell you how sorry he was and that he was afraid that you would feel abandoned by him. It killed him to leave you and Cordy; you two are the only family we have left, and then you moved away without a single word. If you’d told us that you were planning on leaving Weldon, we would’ve found a way to protect you and Cordy. If you weren’t ready to be around Sam, we could’ve sent another hunter to protect you and Cordy.”

“We shouldn’t need protection, Dean. For ten years, we didn’t need protection. But the moment Sam steps back into my life, suddenly Cordy and I are targets for your enemies,” I let my eyes fall back on to the test in my hands. “I have to protect my family, Dean, and if that means Sam can’t be a part of our lives, then so be it. I refuse to live in constant fear that something like that could happen again. I’m not going to be some damsel in distress. I told Cas; Cordy and I are not bargaining chips.”

“The Crowley who attacked you doesn't exist anymore, Y/N. He's no longer the King of Hell; he's nothing more than a regular human. Crowley can't hurt you or Cordy ever again.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that’s true, Dean.”

“It is, Y/N.” Dean sighs, “Cas told us he warded your house. Wherever you are, you and Cordy are safe. I give you my word.”

“Your word isn’t the one I want, Dean. You’re not the reason Crowley came after us; Sam is. All of it was about him and me.”

“You don’t think that I care–?”

“I know you do, Dean,” I sigh, “but you’re on the phone with me instead of Sam. You’re the one playing peace-keeper. Sam should be the one telling me all of these things, not you. If Sam wants me to forgive him and think about letting him back into mine and Cordy’s life, then I need to hear it from him.”

Dean is silent on the other line, and through the static of the phone, I can hear a muffled voice coming through a speaker. A deep breath cuts through the silence before he speaks again.

“Sam’s– Sammy’s hurt, Y/N,” Dean’s voice hitches as if he’s trying to keep himself calm. “It’s– it’s bad.” Suddenly, all the background noises I’ve been hearing make sense. “He was doing okay for a couple of days, but then he took a turn for the worse. Sam’s…” Dean trails off briefly, and I fear that I already know what his next words will be. “You should be here, Y/N, you and Cordy. Sam needs his girls by his side.”

I smile briefly at Dean’s words before my heart falls into my stomach. There’s something he isn’t telling me, and every breath I try to take becomes more difficult. I grip the test tighter in my hands, and I try to let go of all of my anger that had been residing in me since the night we fought. I regret the last words spoken between us, fueled by rage and fear; we don’t need you; I should’ve taken the words back.

“Where are you?”

“Linwood Memorial Hospital in Randolf, New York.” Dean doesn’t hesitate.

“New York? You’re not in Kansas? I thought–”

“Randolf, New York,” Dean reiterates, “Linwood Memorial Hospital.”

I tell Dean that I will have to get a flight to him, and he insists on giving me a scammed credit card to pay for it. A part of me almost doesn’t want to take it, but after seeing how much such a last-minute flight would cost, I accept it.

I call the school as soon as I hang up with Dean, explaining that Cordy will be out for at least the rest of the week. The receptionist seems to understand, reminding me to reach out to her teachers for lessons and homework.

I step into my closet, grabbing two bags, and begin packing my belongings as quietly as I can. I set my bag down at the top of the stairs before repeating the process in Cordy’s room. I place Cordy’s bag next to my own before glancing back into my room. Cordy’s still sleeping, arms tightly gripping her teddy bear. I don't want to wake her, not yet, so I gently close my bedroom door before making my way downstairs. When I open the front door, there’s nothing but the sounds of nature greeting me. A few of the houses are bathed in an orange light where the sun is just barely peeking over rooftops. I step out onto the dewy grass, setting the bags down. I relish in the quiet of the neighborhood for a moment and let myself get lost in thought.

“Y/N,” a low voice says as their hand lands on my arm.

“Jesus!” I yelp, balling my fist and ready to throw a punch. I turn quickly to see my neighbor, Jason, standing behind me.

“Whoa! Sorry,” Jason puts his hands up in surrender, and I unclench my fist. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Someone oughta put a bell on you,” I laugh slightly. “It’s not polite to sneak up on people. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

“I called your name a couple of times,” he shrugs. “I guess you were off somewhere else?”

“Yeah, something like that.” I nod.

“Here, let me help you,” Jason picks up the two bags. “Looks like you’re makin’ a break for it.”

“I guess you could say that,” I shrug and walk towards my car, Jason matching my steps. “Thanks.”

“Don’t tell me we’ve scared you outta the neighborhood already?” Jason chuckles. “Is it Old Lady Nelson?” I try to speak, but he playfully cuts me off. “She’s a witch, you know.”

“Is she?” I raise an eyebrow and pop the trunk. “What kind of witch? Do I need to keep a bucket of water on hand?”

“No, more like the fortune-telling kind,” he grins, slowing his steps, before stopping at the trunk. “She paid me a visit the other day and said I would meet someone.”

“Oh?” I ask as he sets the two bags down, and he nods his head. Suddenly, I’m painfully aware that he’s flirting and that I may be unintentionally encouraging it.

“She said that she would have a-” Jason’s blue eyes dart around me, “a robin’s nest in her yard. Oh!” He dramatically yells as I close the trunk. ”Will you look at that?” He points to the robin’s nest and winks. I shake my head; we both know it was there long before I moved in. “So whaddya say, Y/N? Can I take you out for dinner sometime?”

“Cut right to the chase, don’t you?” I tease him. “Listen, Jason, I think you’re really nice, but–”

“But,” Jason sighs and frowns slightly, “you’re not interested?”

“I’m– I–” I don’t know how to describe my relationship with Sam. He isn’t my boyfriend, but he’s more than just the father of my daughter. “I’m with someone, Cordy’s dad. We’re going to be visiting him for the next couple of days.”

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jason runs his hands through his short hair and gives me an embarrassed smile. “Cynthia told me you were single and has been pushing for me to ask you out. If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have–”

“We have a complicated relationship,” I laugh weakly. “‘Sides you deserve someone who doesn’t have a mountain of baggage.”

“Well, if Mr. Complicated doesn’t wise up, he better be prepared to put up a fight for you,” he teases, and a slight tinge of pink fills his cheeks. “I don’t give up easily, and baggage doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re sweet,” I reach for his arm and gently squeeze it, “but you hardly know me. For all you know, I could be some stage five clinger psychopath or– or an assassin.”

“Then we’ll be two peas in a pod,” Jason smirks, stepping closer to me and brushing a stray hair away from my face. For a moment, I lean into his touch, but I stop myself.

“I have to go,” I exclaim and run back into the house, slamming the door behind me.

I scold myself as I pace my living room. Sam’s in some hospital, and you’re outside flirting with the neighbor? The clock on the wall catches my attention, 8 am, we have to leave soon.

“Y/N?” Cordy’s scratchy voice pulls me out of my thoughts; she looks to be on the verge of tears. “I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry.” I close the gap between us and let her settle against me. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve had a busy morning. You and me, we’re going on a trip.”

“Really?” Cordy’s face lights up, “what kind of a trip?”

“We’re gonna visit Sam,” Cordy’s smile grows; this is something she’s wanted for the last month. “He’s sick,” I explain, and Cordy’s smile fades.

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“I hope so, kid. But I don’t know, that’s why we’re gonna go see him.”

*********************************************

When we arrive in Randolf, it’s almost 9 pm. Cordy and I are exhausted, unused to this kind of travel. It makes me wonder how Sam and Dean live in the Impala for hours and sometimes days on end. The hospital’s visiting hours will be over by now, so I send a message to Dean, letting him know that we are staying at a hotel for the night. He tells me that he has already added us to Sam's visitor list and that he would be under the name Dougherty. I crawl into the large bed, Cordy’s already sleeping soundly, and let my mind wander.

Sam is going to make it out of this, isn’t he? Will he be happy when I tell him about the baby? Will he come back to Lawrence with us when all of this is over? Will he walk away from Dean for the three of us? Will Dean let him?

It’s still early when a turning in my stomach makes me bolt towards the bathroom, emptying my stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Y/N?” Cordy calls from outside the bathroom, and before I can muster out an answer, I feel the bile rising in my throat again. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Go back to bed, Cordy,” I say more harshly than I mean to. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

When I open the bathroom door, Cordy is still standing there, tears filling her eyes. “Are you mad at me?” She asks as a tear slips out.

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I crouch down and meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you sick too?” Cordy sniffles.

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m– I’m gonna have a baby.”

Guilt overwhelms me as I pull into the hospital’s parking lot; I need Sam to know that I still love him, that all the words exchanged weren’t how I truly felt. Ten years of thinking he had run away, and the anger that exploded from us both drove my words. I know, deep down, that Sam wouldn’t have left if he’d known the truth. We were scared kids and didn’t know how not to believe the words of our parents. I know that if either one of us could go back, we would.

Even though Cas changed her memories, Cordy’s body tenses as we step into the hospital. She grips my hand tightly as we walk to the main desk and check-in. I ask for Sam Dougherty’s room, pulling out my ID and handing it to the receptionist. She smiles warmly as she hands over the visitor passes she printed for us.

“I need to ask you something, Cordy,” I say as I kneel to place the badge on the front of her shirt. “When we get up to Sam’s room, do you want to see him?” She fidgets at the mention of being in a hospital room. “You don’t have to; it’s your decision.”

“I don’t know,” she answers sheepishly. “If you want me to-”

“No, kid. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. It’s okay if you don’t,” I squeeze her arm. “I know we’ve talked about you getting to know Sam as your dad, but you’ve only met him a couple of times. If you’re not ready to see him, I’m not going to force you.”

“Is he gonna look scary?” She murmurs, looking down at the floor.

I don’t know how to answer the question. Dean said he was hurt badly. If Sam wasn’t going to get better from this, I don’t know if I want her one of her only memories of him to be attached to machines, bruised, and broken. If she’s only going to have one real memory of Sam, let it be of the day that he visited her after the accident.

“How ‘bout,” I offer, “I go and see him first, by myself. And if I think he looks too scary, I’ll tell you.”

“Sammy isn’t gonna be mad?” Cordy looks up to meet my eyes.

“No, of course not,” I say firmly, “he wouldn’t want you to be afraid.” She nods and grabs my hand as we head up to Sam’s room.

I leave Cordy just outside Sam’s room. She looks around for a moment before I hand over my tablet and headphones, letting her drown out the noises of the hospital. I hesitate to leave her, and when a nurse volunteers to sit with her, I graciously accept. I place a kiss on her forehead, whispering one four three in her ear before heading into Sam’s room. I peer into the open door of the room. Sam’s long frame fills the bed. He looks emaciated; his face bruised, eyes and cheeks sunken in, and skin stretched taut over his bones.

Dean’s at his side, hunched over; I can see his mouth moving but can’t make out anything he’s saying. I wipe the forming tears away, knocking softly on the door. Dean jumps slightly at the sound, and a look of relief washes over his face when he sees me.

“Y/N,” Dean frowns when he catches sight of me, his eyes immediately fall on my broken arm. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around me. “Cas said he tried to heal–”

“What happened, Dean?” I pull away from him, focusing my attention on Sam. “How did he get this bad?”

“Did Cas tell you what we were trying to do?”

“Said something about closing Hell Gates,” I can’t take my eyes off of Sam’s body. Dean leads me to a chair, letting me sit down before moving to the opposite side of the bed. He grabs a second chair, pulling it around so that he’s sitting next to me.

“Yeah. What we didn’t know when Sam started them is that to complete the Trials, Sam would have to die.” Dean looks back over to Sam. “I couldn’t let that happen. I tried to convince him to stop, Y/N, but he wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t stop,” Dean seems to be reassuring himself just as much as me. “The only reason he’s probably still alive right now is that he collapsed before he could finish it.”

“Where’s Cas? Can’t he do something?” I ask, hopefully. “He can heal Sam, can’t he?”

“Sam’s been too damaged for months for Cas to do anything,” Dean sighs. “Tried to help a while back, and even then, he couldn’t do anything. I haven’t let that stop me, Y/N,” Dean offers a sad smile. “I’ve tried praying, but Cas won’t answer.”

“What about another angel?” I’m desperate, taking Sam’s lifeless hand in my own. “Cas can’t be the only one who can help.”

“The thing about angels, Y/N, is most of ‘em are dicks.” Dean lets out a pained laugh. “And they’re not exactly fans of Sam and me. Most won’t help even if they can.”

“You have to do something, Dean,” I plead. “You can’t let him die. You said you’d watch out for him. He can’t die, not now; I need him. Me and Cordy, we need him.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re friends with a freaking angel, you know the King of Hell, but you can’t do anything to save Sam? You’re not trying hard enough, Dean.” I direct all of the guilt I’m feeling at Dean; a part of me knows it’s not fair to him, but I can’t help it. “All this will be for nothing if he’s gone. You tried to stop him and now look at him,” I direct my attention back to Sam.

Dean silently takes my verbal lashing, his emerald eyes filling with tears.

“Screw you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Sam is my brother, and we’ve been through more shit together than you will ever know.” I can hear the pain in Dean’s voice, but he remains calm and quiet, and I notice him discreetly wiping a tear away. “I’ve watched him die too many times already, and I wasn’t gonna let it happen again. I couldn’t let another Winchester grow up without a parent; me and Sam, we practically raised ourselves. Cordy deserves to have both of her parents raising her.”

“Dean–”

“You don’t know how messed up Sam got, Y/N!” Dean’s face reddens, and his voice starts to rise. “He was about to die, and he didn’t even care! If you’d heard what he said in that church– He thinks that you and Cordy are better off without him; that you can just replace him. He’s not replaceable, Y/N. I was trying to talk him off a ledge, and you wanna know the worst part? I’m the reason he got so messed up. I was the one that was supposed to be doing the Trials, not Sam. I could’ve finished them, and he could’ve finally gotten out. I had to save my brother; I will always do whatever it takes to save him. You can put the blame on me for how he is now, but don’t act like you wouldn’t have at least tried to stop him if you were there.”

“Dean,” I can barely speak, “I’m sorry. I just–”

“D’you know what he’s wanted since we were kids?” Dean doesn’t wait for me to respond and focuses back on Sam. “A normal life. He never wanted to be a hunter, follow in dad’s footsteps; he wanted to be his own person. I’m the one who dragged his ass away from Stanford, I’m the reason he wasn’t there when Jessica was murdered, and I know that deep down, a part of him will never be able to forgive me for it. Sam had his chance at normal, but he gave it up for me. If I hadn’t pulled him into that hunt, he probably wouldn’t have come back. He’d be living some apple-pie life with you or Jessica; married, a couple of kids running around, a dog, house with a white picket fence.”

“I don’t have a white picket fence,” I say softly, garnering a small chuckle from Dean. “But, I want all that with him. I want him around, to be a father to Cordy and- and...” I stop myself from saying any more, reluctant to tell him about this baby as well. If I tell him and Sam doesn’t make it through this, I can’t have Dean as a looming presence in Cordy and this baby’s life, reminding all of us of something we can never have. “Before Crowley, I was ready to find a way to make it work with Sam. After Crowley left, I was so scared, Dean, so angry. I still am, but I want us to move past all that. Cordy’s ready to know her dad.”

“Cordy knows?” Dean asks, his eyes going wide at my confession, “I thought you were– You said you didn’t want to tell her, that you wanted to wait until she was ready?” Dean’s brow furrows, and I can hear the anger in his voice. I had insisted to both brothers that Cordy wasn’t ready to know the truth, but now, only a few months later, she was suddenly ready?

“I was,” I focus my attention back on Sam, and I can feel the daggers Dean is staring into me. “That morning, after you left? That box of photos was still out,” I explain. I could tell he thought that I’d lied to him that night. “I’d meant to put them away, but after everything that happened, I was exhausted and pretty much passed out on the couch. When I woke up, Cordy was going through it and started asking questions. She was putting everything together before I could even come up with an excuse. The kid’s too smart for her own good,” I chuckle, and Dean relaxes slightly. “It was rough; Cordy was angry and confused, but she’s adjusting, we both are. She’s been getting used to the idea, and for the last month, she’s been asking me about getting to know Sam.”

“I’ll find a way to get him back to the both of you,” Dean promises, reaching out to give my hand a firm squeeze. “I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Dean and I sit in silence for a few minutes before a doctor joins us. He explains the extent of Sam’s injuries: massive internal burns, oxygen deprivation, the coma is Sam’s last resort of self-preservation.

“He’s dying,” Dean mutters.

“If he continues on this trajectory, I’m afraid so. The machines may be able to keep him alive, but with injuries such as these–”

“There isn’t anything you can do?” I question the doctor.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s in God’s hands now,” the doctor smiles at me sympathetically.

“God’s hands?” Dean huffs, and his face hardens. “You’re a medical professional, and you’re telling us that my brother’s life is in God’s hands? What, is that supposed to be some sort of– of comfort?”

“Dean,” I sigh, “he’s just saying–”

“No, Y/N,” Dean snaps at me. He immediately gives me an apologetic smile before standing up to meet the doctor at the edge of the bed. “God has nothing to do with this equation. If I wanted to leave it up to God, I wouldn’t have brought him here in the first place. Do your job, save my brother.”

The doctor doesn’t flinch at Dean’s verbal assault, taking it as gracefully as one can. He apologizes again before leaving us alone. Dean refuses to sit back down, pacing around the room and muttering under his breath. I focus back on Sam, squeezing his hand tighter, praying for some kind of response to show that he’s still there, fighting his way back to Cordy and me.

“You have to fight, Sam,” I lean in and whisper. “I didn’t mean what I said that night; I was angry and scared. We do need you. You can’t leave Cordy and me, not like this.”

The room is silent, save for the heart monitor beeping steadily and my sniffling. Dean has stopped pacing, and when I look up, he’s staring at Sam and me, waiting as much as I am for some kind of sign that Sam isn’t giving up. I wipe my tears away and take a long, calming breath before speaking.

“Cordy’s outside,” I say as I leave my seat. “I’m– I’m gonna talk to her, see if she wants to see Sam.”

Dean nods slightly, and as I walk by him, he pulls me into a hug, “I’ll find a way to fix this, Y/N,” he reassures me. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get him better again.”

When I get back to Cordy, she is intensely focused on the tablet in her hands. I take another long inhale, hoping that I can hide the evidence of my tears. I playfully tug at her headphones, pulling her attention away from the tablet, and I see she’s watching a video from a channel called Ghostfacers.

“Learn anything interesting?” I ask as I take the seat next to her.

“Nah,” she shrugs and turns off the tablet, “those guys are weirdos.”

I laugh as she puts the tablet back into my bag. I try to figure out the best way to breach the subject of Sam to Cordy.

“How’s Sammy?” Cordy asks as if she can read my mind, and I give her a tight-lipped smile.

“He’s– He’s not doing okay.” I try to think of a way to explain his condition to her, something that will make sense. “You know how sometimes when you’re sick, you just want to sleep?” Cordy nods. “Well, right now, Sam is really sick, so he’s gonna stay asleep until he’s better.”

“How long is Sammy gonna sleep?” Cordy questions innocently. “Are we gonna stay until he wakes up?”

“I– I don’t know, kid,” I tell her honestly. “It could be days, weeks, or,” I struggle with the next words, “Sam may never wake up.”

Cordy seems to understand what I’m saying, and I’m thankful that I don’t have to say the words, ‘Sam’s dying.’ I don’t push her to respond, letting her think over whatever she may want to say next. I keep my own conflicted feelings at bay; half wants to take her back to Lawrence and never talk about this ever again; the other half wants her to go in and see him so that at least she can get a proper goodbye.

“Can I see him?” Cordy asks after a few moments of silence. “Would that be okay?”

“If that’s what you want, kid,” I grab her hand in mine and gently squeeze it before walking us back towards Sam’s room.

Dean’s still pacing the floor when I walk in; Cordy stays behind me, gripping my hand tightly. I try to move forward, but she pulls back against me, stopping at the doorway. Dean peers around me before closing the gap between us and crouches down to meet Cordy at her eye-level.

“Hey, Princess, do you remember me?” Dean asks sweetly.

Cordy smiles and nods, “Y/N says you’re my uncle.”

“That’s right,” Dean’s eyes shine with pride. “I’m Sammy’s big brother. Do you know what big brothers do?” he asks, and Cordy shakes her head. “We protect our little brothers. We don’t let anything happen to them.”

“Can I talk to him?” She looks between Dean and me. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, kid,” I smile weakly.

Cordy lets go of my hand and makes her way to the empty chair by Sam’s side. Dean gives my arm a reassuring squeeze as I walk by, and I sit in the chair that he previously occupied. Cordy doesn’t say anything at first, seemingly studying Sam silently, she wasn’t one to normally shy away from a conversation, but this is a new experience for her.

“Why don’t you tell Sam about school?” I suggest, knowing that once she starts talking, it’ll be hard to get her to stop.

Cordy nods before explaining in unbelievable detail about her teachers and classmates. She tells him all about our new house and how she decorated her room because she’s not a little kid anymore, which causes a small laugh from both Dean and me. She speaks non-stop for what seems like hours, telling Sam everything he would ever need to know to become integrated into our lives.

“Definitely Sam’s kid,” Dean jokes from the edge of the bed, listening just as intently as Sam would. Cordy doesn’t pay any attention and goes right back to chattering.

After a few minutes, Dean gets up and gestures for me to join him outside the room. He tells me he has a plan, that it could be our only hope to save Sam, and gently orders me not to let anyone else into the room until he gets back. I want to pry for more details, but it must be a long-shot or something dangerous if Dean’s not giving them.

When I walk back into the room, Cordy is telling Sam how she hopes that he will be awake for her birthday, and my heart breaks. Unless Dean can pull off some miracle, Sam won’t recover from this; his body is far too damaged.

When Dean returns a half-hour later, a bruise is blossoming on his cheek as if he’s been in a fight, and a large man follows closely behind him. Something about him is unsettling, and Cordy stops speaking when she sees him, leaving her seat to move into my lap.

“Y/N, I think you should take Cordy outside,” Dean suggests, and the man eyes the two of us.

For a moment, I want to protest, but Dean hardens his face, and it seems that he’s as wary of this stranger as I am.

“Okay,” I nod, getting out of the chair and grabbing Cordy by the hand. She tugs against me and takes a few steps towards the head of the bed. She leans over so much that only her toes are touching the ground and does her best to hug Sam and places a kiss on his cheek. If I had any less control over myself, I’d be a sobbing mess at the sight—damn hormones.

I give Cordy a small smile when she turns around and returns her hand to mine. I settle her back into the same seat before returning to Sam’s room.

“Dean? What’s going on? Who is this?”

“My name is Ezekiel,” the man faces me, “I am not here to harm you or your daughter, Y/N.”

“How do you–”

“Angel,” Dean answers before I can finish asking my question. “He’s here to help, right?” Ezekiel nods. “Even cut-off from Heaven, you can still heal him, can’t you?”

“Your brother is very weak.”

“No, no,” Dean growls, “I saved your life, and you said you could help. That was our deal: I fight, you save.”

“Please,” I say, stepping closer to Ezekiel. “You can’t do anything?”

“There are no good ways, I’m afraid.”

“Then what are some of the bad ones?” Dean says. “He’s dying, let’s hear ‘em, good or bad.”

Ezekiel explains that he can help from the inside. I watch as Dean contemplates what Ezekiel says, looking to me for some kind of relief. I shake my head, and I tell him I don’t understand.

“Possession,” Dean explains.

“It is your decision, Y/N, and yours, Dean,” Ezekiel sits down.

“No, it’s not,” Dean murmurs. “It’s Sam’s. He’d never say yes to being some angel’s meatsuit.”

“I understand, but without my help, your brother will die.”

Dean turns his attention to Sam and sighs, “do it.”

“Dean,” I pull him towards me. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“He can fix Sam, Y/N!” Dean argues. “This is the only solution I can think of that doesn’t involve something worse.”

“Worse than you letting some angel possess him?” I question in disbelief. “I know you want to help him, Dean. But this isn’t the way, tell me you don’t know that.”

“What, you want to leave it in God's hands? Just wait and see if maybe he comes out of this? Those Trials– The person completing them is meant to die; it’s supposed to be the ultimate sacrifice. I say Sam’s sacrificed enough in his life. He deserves to live, Y/N.”

“I don’t want him gone either, Dean, but this should be his choice, not yours or mine. You know him better than anyone. Do you think this is how he’d want you to save him? He wouldn’t want this, Dean. I don’t want this.”

“You told me to fix him, that you want to keep him in your life, Y/N. That’s what I’m doing.”

“I know, but–” I turn my gaze to Ezekiel and then back to Sam. “This isn’t right, Dean. You know it isn’t.”

Dean shrugs me off of him and steps closer to Ezekiel, and they begin talking in hushed tones. My eyes land on Sam, and for a moment, I consider what Dean is saying, thinking that it may be the only way to keep Sam in my and Cordy’s lives. I watch Ezekiel; his voice is too low for me to make out any exact words. There’s something he’s not telling us. Ezekiel repeats his offer.

“He’d never say yes to you,” Dean murmurs.

“But he would say yes to you or Y/N,” Ezekiel offers, his eyes land between us. "If you want me to help Sam, we must act quickly." Despite his words, there is no urgency in Ezekiel's voice, no emotion. "Your brother doesn't have much time."

"No," I murmur, shaking my head when Dean faces me. "You're not going to use me to manipulate Sam. There's gotta be another way, Dean."

“There's not, Y/N," Dean sighs. "You heard the doctor; there's nothing more they can do."

"That's not what he said, Dean," I argue, even though from what we were told, there was little chance of Sam recovering. I have to hope that somehow he can get better. "People wake up from comas every day. There are new therapies–"

"They will not work, Y/N," Ezekiel states matter-of-factly. "The damage done to Sam's body cannot be healed by mere mortals. Sam will die unless you allow me to help."

"If I’m going to consider this, you show me, prove to me how bad he is," Dean's desperate; we both are. Ezekiel moves, placing one hand on Sam and the other on Dean, and both men go still for a few moments. I stand there, unable to do anything but watch as the heart monitor beeps become further apart.

"What're you doing, Sam?" Dean says barely above a whisper. He turns to face me again, and I can see the fear and panic playing on his face. He turns back to Ezekiel. "Go in as me to convince him."

"Dean!"

“Tell him I gotta plan, that he has to trust me," Dean ignores me and instructs Ezekiel. "And– and that he has a kid that needs him."

I can’t take it anymore, and I don’t want to be anymore complicit in Dean letting Ezekiel possess Sam than I already am. Dean and Ezekiel are too caught up in their conversation to notice me walking towards Sam. If Dean wants Ezekiel to save Sam, he's not going to use us to do it.

I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “I’m sorry.” I squeeze Sam’s lifeless hand and place a kiss on his forehead. "One four three."

I don’t say anything else to Dean or Ezekiel and reluctantly leave the room. I try to keep myself calm when I get back to Cordy, giving her a pained smile that I hope she doesn't see through. She doesn’t question me when I take her hand in mine and begin walking us towards the elevators. I know I’ll have to explain why we’re leaving at some point, but I can’t do it now, not when I can hardly wrap my brain around it.

We’re halfway down the hall when I hear Dean calling after me, I do my best to ignore it, but it becomes more difficult when Cordy points it out as if somehow I don’t hear him. Dean's voice continues to follow, and I can see Cordy giving me a questioning look out of the corner of my eye.

“Y/N!” Dean’s hand lands on my shoulder, only moments after we reach the elevator bay. “Don’t leave, please, I’m begging you,” he pleads. “It’s the only way.”

"You're not doing this in front of Cordy, Dean," I scold him before turning my attention to Cordy. "Go take a seat over there, please," I gesture to a row of empty chairs.

"But, Y/N–" Cordy tries to protest.

"Now, Cordy." She pouts, and once she is far enough away that she can no longer hear us, Dean tries to start in again, but I beat him to it. "How fucking dare you. You think I'm gonna let you use Cordy and me to trick Sam into letting some,” I lower my voice as a staff worker walks by, “angel possess him?”

"I’m doing this for you, for Cordy.”

“You’re doing this for you, Dean,” I argue back. “You don’t even know this guy. He could be lying to you. How do you know he’s not going to just–” I can feel myself getting worked up and take a deep breath. “I might not know anything about angels, but you can’t tell me that Ezekiel doesn’t seem to be a little off?”

“So, what, you just– just want to let him die? You're ready to just give up on him?” Dean’s face grows red, and his forehead crinkles.

“Stop it, Dean,” I snap. “I want him back too, but this isn’t the way.” I take a deep breath. “I'm not okay with this, Dean, and you know Sam wouldn't be either."

“What about Cordy, everything you've told me? You want her to grow up without her dad?”

“Screw you, Dean.” I bite back, the palm of my hand connecting with his cheek. “Cordy is my kid and the most important person in my world. I won’t let you guilt me into thinking you're doing this for her.”

“We’re outta options, Y/N. What else do you want me to do? I can’t– I won’t walk away when there’s a chance to save him. Sam’ll–”

“Sam will never forgive you, Dean.”

“He might be pissed at me for the rest of his life, but at least he’ll be alive, Y/N.”

"I can't stop you, Dean. But if you go through with it: making Sam's choice for him, then you're making mine too." I call out for Cordy, and she joins me by my side again. "Say goodbye to Dean," I instruct her gently, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Don't do this," Dean whispers, and I shake my head, twisting slightly to press the button on the wall. I can't stay, not when I have two other people to think about. "Please."

Cordy hesitantly places her arms around Dean and mumbles goodbye to him. When she steps back, I lay my hands on her shoulder and pull her closer to me so that she can't see the tears slipping from my eyes.

"Goodbye, Dean," I say as I hear the doors ding open and turn around to step into the elevator. Dean's emerald eyes are filled with tears as I face him a final time. "I hope you make the right choice," I whisper as the doors close.

As we exit the hospital, Cordy questions why we’re leaving, and I struggle to find an answer. We'll be back on a plane to Lawrence tomorrow, and I do everything I can to evade her questions about Sam, eventually settling on Sam may never wake up.

We are walking into the house when a backfiring car sends me over the edge. Cordy helplessly watches as I’m thrust back into my memories of the night of the werewolf attack; its amber eyes staring me down, its claws swiping at me, how I had to lie to everyone about what happened, how I still have to. Sam never leaving my side until we were pulled apart by my parents.

My whole world is crashing down around me, and all I want is Sam. I want to feel his arms around me again, telling me that everything will be okay. I want to sink my body into his, taking solace in his comforting embrace, and let myself get lost in him. I want him to be with us forever, having the family he’s wanted since I told him I was pregnant all those years ago.

My Sam may be gone forever, and the only thing I can do is pray that Dean made the right decision.

Three Years Later

“Cordelia Mary!” I yell from the bottom of the stairs. “Your butt better be down here in five minutes.”

“Mo-om!” I hear her door opening, and she steps onto the landing. “That’s not enough time–”

“Too bad, kid,” I huff. “I mean it, Cordy, five minutes, or I'm taking your phone away.” A grumbled okay comes from the top of the stairs. I head back towards the kitchen, blue and green orbs watching me as I walk back in. “What’re we gonna do about her, Sammy?” I laugh as I bend down and scoop him up in my arms. “No ideas, huh?”

"You yell at sissy." He giggles when I nuzzle into his neck and blow raspberries on his chubby cheeks. “Sissy in t’ouble?"

"No, baby. Sissy isn't in trouble," I sit him down in his chair and run my fingers through his chestnut locks. Sammy’s eyes widen, and a smile forms when he looks behind me.

Large hands wrapping around my waist cause me to jump back and let out a yelp. I turn around to a cheeky grin; he’s obviously very proud of himself.

“You jerk,” I swat at his chest, trying to retain my serious demeanor, which becomes harder to do as Sammy’s laughter fills the kitchen. Warm, comforting arms pull me closer to him. I let my hands settle on the back of his neck, curling my fingers in his hair. He leans down to place a tender kiss on my lips, letting his two-day scruff scratch against my lips. “I don’t know why I put up with you sometimes.” I roll my eyes playfully at him.

“You say that, but,” his lips move to the shell of my ear, “we both know exactly why you put up with me.” He pulls back and gives me a wink. His hand leaves my waist and delicately takes my left hand into his kissing the diamond ring still settling on my finger. “‘Sides, you love me, and you know it.”

“Love?” I scoff, trying to hide my smile. “I don’t know if I would say that. Not if you insist on sneaking up on me all the time.”

“Sammy saw me, didn’t you?” I turn in his embrace, letting my back settle against his chest, and his arms stay tight around me. Sammy giggles and shakes his head. “Traitor,” he whispers.

I curl my hands around his arms; it has taken us so long to get here, something I never thought would happen. The watch on his wrist alerts me to the time, and I gently pull away from him, making my way back towards the stairs.

“Cordy! I’m serious!” I yell up the stairs, “You’d better be down here in two minutes!”

"Do you want me to talk to her?” he asks as I walk back into the kitchen. He’s sitting down next to Sammy, cutting fruit into halves as Sammy tries shoveling the food into his mouth. “See what the problem is?"

"She's a teenager; that's the problem," I laugh, taking a seat at the table. “Didn’t think you’d be here three years ago, did you?”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrow furrows in confusion.

“Raising a teenager and a toddler with someone who works ridiculous hours and has serious abandonment issues,” I keep my tone light, but he knows the insecurity behind my words.

“Y/N,” Jason reaches for my hand and gently squeezes it. “I told you a long time ago, I don’t give up that easily. If I didn’t think I could handle it, I wouldn’t have pursued you for as long as I did,” he says with a chuckle. “I love you, Y/N; Cordy and Sammy, they may not be mine, but I’ll never treat them any different than if they were. I’m never gonna walk away from you or them.”

Cordy is downstairs just as I’m about to call out for her again. She chatters away as she eats her breakfast, only to be interrupted by Sammy’s need to chime in. She placates her little brother, and we all listen intently as he struggles to connect one thought to another.

“C’mon, kid,” I stand up from the table, “it’s our turn to carpool; go get Ava.”

She quickly gets out of her chair and places a kiss on Sammy’s cheek. She lets Jason pull her in for a quick hug before grabbing her backpack and making for the front door. I lean down and place a kiss on his lips before doing the same with Sammy. By the time I’m outside, Cordy and Ava are both in the back seat, deep in conversation.

I drop the girls off at school and make my way back home, ready to sleep for hours and thankful that I have the next two days off. Jason plans his schedule around mine so that one of us can be home with Cordy and Sammy more often than not. On a day like today, when I’m coming off a twelve-hour shift from the hospital, he’ll leave late in the morning and come back in the early afternoon. I find it comforting to know that I will never have to worry about him not returning from a job.

Jason and Sammy are sitting on the living room floor when I walk through the door, watching some kids show that I can’t quite place. I laugh to myself when I notice that Jason seems to be just as invested as Sammy. I take the opportunity to sneak up on him, and Jason nearly jumps to his feet when my hands land on his back. Sammy lets out a loud, high-pitched squeal and claps his chubby hands together, laughing as Jason chuckles.

“Consider that your payback,” I giggle as he turns around, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he lands a playful swat on my ass.

"You'll pay for that later," he teases before leaning forward to press a kiss on my lips.

I sit with them for as long as I can before exhaustion starts to overpower my will to stay awake—damn midnight shifts.

I make my way upstairs and crawl into the comfort of my bed, allowing sleep to finally take me. The bed dips and the warmth of a body where there was once cold causes me to stir, and I roll over, opening my eyes to meet Jason’s blue ones. I smile sleepily as he presses his lips on my forehead and tells me that he’s put Sammy down for his nap. I pull his face downward, allowing him to kiss me properly. Jason holds me close, pulling me flush against him, letting me take comfort in his warm embrace until I’m asleep again.

“Mama.” Sammy’s small voice wakes me, and I open my eyes to see him reach for the edge of the bed, his curls matted on one side. “Wake up, mama!”

“Hey, baby,” I coo, trying to shake the hoarseness away. I swing my legs over the bed and reach for Sammy, pulling him into my lap. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Good nap, mama,” he repeats.

“Are you ready for a snack?” I ask as I stand up, letting Sammy settle on my hip.

“Hung’y, mama,” Sammy happily nods as we make our way downstairs.

I set Sammy down in his pack n’ play and pour some Puffs into a bowl, letting his loud crunching and noisy toys fill the kitchen as I fix us something to eat. As I’m setting the plates down, I hear a knock on the front door.

“Ugh, every time,” I complain, taking a small piece of apple and placing it in my mouth. “I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?”

“‘Kay, mama,” Sammy says as he picks up another puff.

Another rapping comes from the door, this one louder than the last, probably some salesperson, I murmur. When I open the door, all I see at first is a broad, tall body covered by a blue plaid shirt, and as I let my eyes travel up, I meet a pair of eyes that I never thought I’d see again.

“Sam.”

“Y/N/N.”

My heart races at the sound of my name on his lips, but I can’t move; the last time I saw Sam, Dean was about to let an angel possess him. What if this wasn’t Sam? What if this was Ezekiel? I eye him suspiciously. Should I call Cas?

“It’s me, Y/N/N,” Sam says as if he can read my mind.

“No.” I shake my head and attempt to close the door. “I don’t know who or what you are, but you stay away from my family and me.”

“Y/N/N, baby, it’s me." Sam gently steps forward and stops the door. "We met Thanksgiving 2002,” he offers. “I saved you from a werewolf, you clung to me the whole night, and I started falling for you right then. I had to convince my dad to let me stay, I told him it was for school, but it’s ‘cause I wanted to stay close to you. The first time you said ‘I love you’ was Valentine’s Day; we went to The Tavern, and you were concerned about the prices. The day you told me you were pregnant– it was one of the happiest days of my life, even though I was scared shitless. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you again at Joe’s. I wanted to tell you right then and there how much I missed you; how sorry I was–”

“You’re rambling,” I murmur, reaching out and pressing my palm to his cheek, and he leans into my touch. Sam wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tightly as if he’s afraid to let me go.

“What– what’re you doing here? How–?” I mumble into his chest.

“Cas,” Sam takes a deep breath. I let him hold on to me while I try to keep myself calm. “Told us you were in Lawrence; I can’t tell you how pissed Dean–” I pull away slightly, and Sam shakes his head. “Quick search gave me your address,” he gives me an embarrassed smile that quickly fades. Sam’s embrace around me loosens, and I step back to scan his face. The dark circles under his eyes hint at the fact that it’s probably been days since he last slept. “I guess I should have called first?” Sam lets out a laugh that seems to be hiding pained thoughts.

“It’s not that,” I shake my head. “I– I can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t think–”

Sam takes my hand in his rubbing it gently, and gives me a small smile. His brow furrows, and his smile quickly fades as his eyes travel down toward our connected hands.

“You’re married,” Sam states, brushing his thumb over the ring on my finger. “Of course you are." He lets go and shakes his head, seemingly in disbelief. “I’ll just– I’ll go. I don’t–”

“Wait, Sam,” I stop him. “Come in, please,” I insist. Sam nods his head warily, and I step aside so that he can walk in. I can hardly form a coherent thought as he walks into my house. He doesn’t make it far in before stopping, reaching out to touch a photo hanging on the wall. Even without a clear view, I know it’s of Cordy, taken only a few weeks ago on the first day of school. The smile that forms on Sam’s face is instant, and I can see his eyes beginning to water.

“Corie, she’s– she’s beautiful, Y/N/N,” he says, eyes never leaving the frame.

I join him in front of the photo, and I watch as he studies it intensely. "Let's talk," I whisper as I move away from the wall and towards the kitchen. My eyes immediately fall on Sammy when I walk back in, who’s keeping himself busy with one of his many toys, smiling at the random noises coming from him. I turn around when I can no longer feel Sam’s presence behind me, and I see him staring blankly at Sammy through the mesh material.

“You– you had a baby,” Sam murmurs, taking his eyes off the toddler and gives me a sad smile. “I’m happy for you, Y/N/N,” Sam’s words are hollow. “I'm sure Corie’s a great big sister."

“She tries,” I laugh slightly, “maybe Dean could–”

“Dean’s dead.” Sam cuts me off, his bluntness taking me by surprise. “He sacrificed himself so that we could be together– our family could be together,” Sam’s jaw clenches slightly, and his face reddens. “But I come back here, and you’re married, and have another kid–”

“Sam,” I move towards him. I know how it must look—that shortly after we last saw each other, I found someone else; that I replaced him. “I need to tell you–”

“No, Y/N/N, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Voice laced with anger, Sam stiffens before taking a few steps back. “It’s been three years,” He turns around and heads back towards the front of the house. "I couldn’t expect you to wait around forever, could I?”

“Sam–!” I try to get his attention before he leaves, but he ignores me. I grab Sammy and chase him down as best I can with a toddler in my arms.

“I just– I want to be in Corie’s life, Y/N/N,” Sam says as he reaches for the door. “I want to know my daughter, and I want her to know me. I’m out of the life. Without Dean, I can’t do it; I’m not a hunter anymore. Talk it over with your husband; I’ll do whatever you want, Y/N/N, please, just don’t keep Corie away from me.”

“Sam, wait, please–” He’s halfway across the lawn when I stop him, my free hand landing on his shoulder. Sam stills but doesn’t turn around. I walk around him so that I’m standing in front of him. Sam’s eyes are bloodshot, tears flowing freely from them as he stares at the ground. “Stay.”

“I can’t,” Sam looks up to meet my gaze. “I can’t stay and not be with you, Y/N/N. You and Corie– You’re a real family now,” his eyes briefly land on Sammy again, who’s tugging at the necklace Sam gave me. “I’m not going to stand in your way. You and your husband–”

“Stop, Sam,” I plead, reaching up to wipe his tear-stained cheeks. “I’m so sorry about Dean.”

“We didn’t have any other choice,” Sam murmurs, leaning into my touch as I tuck back some of his fallen hair behind his ear. “Dean, he– he made me promise to come to find you, get our family back. Said that he wanted us to be together, made Cas tell me where you were. I-I didn’t think...” Sam shakes his head and his voice trembles. “I-I wanna stay nearby so that I can stay close to Corie.”

“Mama, look!” Sammy points to Jason’s truck as it pulls into the driveway and tries to squirm out of my hold. “Daddy!” By the time Sammy is down, Jason is already heading towards us. Sammy is wobbly on his feet as he makes for Jason, who lifts him into his arms, causing a giggle to leave Sammy.

“Hey, babe,” Jason places a light kiss on my lips and lets his free hand around settle on my waist. “Who’s this?”

“Jason, this is Sam,” I say cautiously. Jason’s brows raise in surprise as he seemingly puts it together. Sam doesn’t move, only narrowing his eyes on Jason. “Sam, this is Jason.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jason offers his hand to Sam, and I know he’s trying to play nice. Sam doesn’t move, giving him a tight-lipped smile and a nod. Jason closes his hand and brings it back to his side. “I’m gonna take him inside,” Jason gestures to Sammy, breaking the growing tension between the three of us. “I can hear this one’s stomach growling,” he jokes. “You hungry, buddy?”

Sammy nods his head excitedly, and Jason lets him down onto the grass. Sammy is tugging at his arm, guiding Jason back towards the house.

“It was nice meeting you, Sam,” Jason says after taking a few steps away from us. Sam doesn’t respond again, only giving another nod.

Jason disappears back inside the house, leaving Sam and me alone on the lawn. I don’t know how to tell him everything that I need to.

“He’s cute,” Sam says half-heartedly, and I lift my brow in confusion, “The kid. I guess your husband is too. How long have you been together?”

“Jason isn’t– we’re not married,” I finally get the chance to correct him. “He proposed a couple of weeks ago.”

“Is he good to you?” Sam takes a step closer to me. “He treats you and Corie right? Because if he’s not–”

“He’s been good for us, all of us. Stepped into a role when he could’ve run the other direction,” I laugh slightly.

I can see that Sam has more questions, but my front yard’s public nature makes it difficult. Realizing that Cordy will be home in a couple of hours, I suggest going somewhere more private, promising to answer all of his questions. Sam agrees, and I run back into the house to redress and tell Jason that Sam and I need to discuss everything alone. Jason hesitates, but he reluctantly agrees that it would be for the best. I leave him and Sammy with a kiss, promising to be back in a few hours.

"Dean said that you came to the hospital." Sam sits down across from me at the diner, nodding politely at the waitress as she drops off our two coffees.

"I had to," I murmur, bringing the ceramic cup to my lips and taking a sip. "I'm sorry that I didn't stay. I wanted to, but something about Ezekiel and what Dean wanted him to do, it didn't feel right."

"It's okay," Sam assures me and reaches across the table to take my hand in his. "Ezekiel, he– he wasn’t who he said he was, he lied to Dean from the start, didn’t even tell him his real name, Gadreel. When Dean became suspicious, Gadreel– he locked me away inside my mind, and used my body to kill innocent people,” Sam tears his gaze away from mine and brings his hand back into his lap. “It’s good that you left. You and Corie, you– you wouldn’t have been safe if you stayed.”

Sam spends the better part of the next hour filling me in on everything that happened since we’d last seen each other. I don’t know how to tell Sam about Sammy, and for a brief moment, I consider letting him think that Sammy isn’t his, but quickly decide against it. Sam's face lights up when I tell him, and tears fill his eyes as I pull out my phone to show him the trove of photos of Sammy and Cordy. If Sam was truly out, then I had to give him the chance to be a part of our lives, didn’t I? Cordy and Sammy deserve the chance to know Sam, the Sam I fell in love with.

It’s late by the time I return, and I do everything I can to act as if everything is normal. Cordy, Sammy, and Jason are curled up on the couch, watching a movie, and I greet them quickly before heading upstairs. Cordy calls out for me to join them, causing Jason to turn around and take in my appearance. I tell her I’ll be back down after a shower, and I see Jason getting up out of the corner of my eye.

I don’t realize that Jason is behind me until I hear the door closing only moments after walking into my room.

"I think we should talk," He murmurs, closing the gap between us. I fiddle with the ring on my finger and move towards the bed, taking a seat on the edge. "About us, the kids; about Sam," I nod, and my eyes stay fixated on the ring on my finger. “Whatever happened today, just- just don’t lie, Y/N, please, no matter how difficult the truth is.”

“Okay,” I nod again, and Jason places a kiss on my temple.

“You told me that Sam disappeared,” Jason moves down so that our eyes can meet. “Did you know that he was going to show up here today?”

The topic of Sam was a difficult one for me to breach with Jason. He’s never pushed me for more information than what I am willing to give him. When we first started dating, Sammy was only a few months old. I had finally come to terms with the fact that Sam was most likely dead or worse. Radio silence from Dean seemingly confirmed my suspicions, and I allowed myself to move on, to fall in love again. My feelings for Sam never disappeared, they stayed deep inside me, and when I saw him again, they all came rushing to the surface.

"No," I answer honestly. "The last time I saw Sam, he was in a coma. His brother and I couldn’t agree on what to do. Dean wanted to use,” I hesitate, “extreme measures, I had just found out I was pregnant with Sammy, and I couldn’t–” I don’t know how to explain it to Jason; how I seemingly took Cordy and ran away. I try to find something that resembles the truth. “He was dying, I wanted him to get better, but I couldn’t watch him become an empty shell of himself. Dean had medical power of attorney, and I had no chance of winning any contestation. Legally, Sam’s not Cordy’s dad; there was nothing I could do. Cordy and I said goodbye, and we left. I thought he died since we didn’t hear from either of them again.”

Jason listens carefully and takes a deep breath before speaking again. Whatever it is, I can tell it's going to be difficult. “Did anything happen while you were with him?"

I’m caught off-guard by the question, and guilt begins to fill every inch of my body. I look away from Jason and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is mussed, and my lips are still swollen; it couldn’t be any more obvious what happened. Jason is studying me when I face him again, and tears fill my eyes. I don’t want to admit what Sam and I did less than two hours ago.

“Jason, please," I beg, my shame taking over. “I can’t.”

"Please, Y/N," he demands softly, and a choked sob leaves me. “Did you kiss him?” I nod my head and Jason tenses. I glance up and see a mixture of anger and sadness at my confession, which only makes me cry harder.

“Did you–” Jason struggles to get the words out, and I fear I know exactly what his next question will be. “Did you sleep with him?”

"I'm sorry!" I cry, and Jason moves away from me at my confession. He paces the floor in front of me, face growing redder by the second, his jaw clenches, and I see him ball his fists. “I didn’t– I wasn’t– It just happened.”

"It just happened?" Jason stops in his tracks, questioning me in disbelief. "You don't accidentally sleep with someone who isn't your fiancé, Y/N!"

“I- I know,” I sob, barely able to choke out the words. “It all hap-happened so fast," I try to explain myself. “One minute we were talking and the next Sam was kissing me and then…”

"I don't need the details, Y/N," Jason snaps. "Just tell me, why?"

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking. I needed closure; we've never been able to give each other a proper goodbye."

"And sleeping with him got you that?!" He asks in a hushed yell. If the kids weren't downstairs, we'd be in a screaming match right now. "A proper goodbye? So does that mean Sam's leaving? That he’s going to give you and Cordy and Sammy up? Disappear from our lives forever?"

"I-I don't know," I say between sniffs.

Jason storms out of the room, leaving me alone with my guilt. Jason had been there for Sammy’s birth, holding my hand the entire time. He stepped into the role of step-father when he could’ve walked away. Jason is the only father Sammy has ever known; Cordy took longer to warm up to him, still holding out hope that Sam would be a part of our lives again one day. Jason and I discussed him adopting both Cordy and Sammy after we were married, but now that Sam is back, I’m questioning everything.

When Jason returns half an hour later, he’s calmer than before, but I can still see the anger written on his face. He didn’t deserve what Sam and I did to him, and I wouldn’t blame him for leaving me—us. I watch closely as he walks over to the bed and sits down next to me.

“Are you still in love with Sam?” Jason hesitantly asks and takes my hand in his, his thumb grazing over the ring. “Do you want to be with him?”

“He’s Cordy and Sammy’s dad; a part of me will always love him.”

“That’s not what I asked, Y/N,” Jason gently grabs my chin and turns my face towards him. “Are you in love with Sam?” He asks more pointedly.

“I– I don’t know,” I murmur.

“Y/N,” he sighs, “I love you, and if you tell me this won’t ever happen again, I am ready to find a way for us to work through it. But you have to decide what you want, who you want: Sam, or me.”

I let his words sink in, wondering if the situations were reversed if I would be able to do the same. I can’t tell him something like that will never happen again because I don’t know if I can ever trust myself to not fall back into Sam’s arms. Sam was all I ever wanted for ten years, but I had to put my feelings for him aside so that I could focus on Cordy and Sammy; I have to do what’s best for them.

“I’m going to stay at my house tonight.” Jason’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Think about what I’ve said.” He leans down and places a kiss on my forehead.

“Jason,” I reach for his hand, “I never meant to hurt you.”

He smiles sadly, then leaves. I hear him say goodbye to Cordy and Sammy. The silence that follows when the front door closes breaks my heart. A few minutes later, Cordy carries Sammy into my room, and they both crawl into my bed. She’s old enough to understand that something happened between Jason and me. I don’t know if I should tell her of Sam’s return and decide against it. I’m not ready to answer the questions that will inevitably follow. The three of us fall asleep together; Sammy sandwiched between Cordy and me.

When I wake up the next morning, I know what I want. I know who I want. He was the last thing to cross my mind before I fell asleep and the first thing I thought of when I woke up.

I reach for my phone and send him a message asking him to come over as soon as possible. He replies quickly, telling me he will be over shortly. I put the phone down and turn to wake Cordy and Sammy. She grumbles, but I give her a little nudge and ask her to wait downstairs. Cordy sends me a questioning look through her sleepy features, but she complies when I tell her it’s important.

Cordy’s still half-asleep on the couch when I make my way down, Sammy propped on my hip, also unable to keep his eyes open. My whole body is shaking with nerves as I impatiently wait for him to arrive.

Three light raps on the door have me on my feet in seconds, racing towards the future with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I swing the door open, letting him step into the house, and he wraps his arms around Sammy and me, holding onto us as tight as he can. I relax into his embrace and breathe in his familiar scent.

As I pull away, I let my eyes fall on his familiar features. I run my free hand through his hair, and a smile appears on his lips. He leans down to press a gentle yet eager kiss on my lips. His rough, calloused fingers tenderly brush against Sammy’s face, and tears fill his eyes as he takes in the little boy’s features. I hand Sammy over to him and notice how small the toddler looks wrapped in his arms. He closes his eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, but when he opens them again, I see the kaleidoscope of blues and greens that I had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“Cordy,” I call into the living room, “come here, please.”

I can hear the padding of Cordy’s feet as she mumbles about it being too early to be up. When she turns the corner, Cordy’s eyes widen, and a broad smile spreads across her face. She runs towards us, ready to jump into his arms.

"Dad!"

A/N 3: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it! I did not intend on this chapter on being as long as it is, but, sometimes you can't stop yourself from writing!

Did you love it? Hate it? Please give a reblog or send an ask and let me know what you think of this final chapter!

Elastic Heart Tags @manawhaat   @that-one-gay-girl @awesomesusiebstuff​ @mrswhozeewhatsis @ilovetaquitosmmmm @suckmyapplejacks​ @traceyaudette​ 

Forever Tags: @akshi8278​

[untamed-era]

Come Out and Level Up, Part 2

(part 1) (EDIT: link now leads to both halves of part 1)  (EDIT 2: AO3 Link) 

Wei Ying does not look pleased with the situation. This is unexpected. Lan Wangji remembers finding proper labels as a deep relief, a sense that other people matched his experience. Wei Ying, on the other hand, comes and sits down, staring at his phone again, looking dejected.

Lan Wangji waits.

“I’m. I guess it’s good I know this, right? Let me make better choices, going forward. It’s good to. It’s good to understand, why I never particularly wanted to date anyone that asked me out. That’s good.”

He is trying to talk himself into the idea. Lan Wangji continues waiting.

“I just —“ He looks up, suddenly, meeting Lan Wangji’s eyes. “Lan Zhan, I really did want to get married.” He sounds forlorn, lost. “I mean. You remember, I talked about inviting you to a farm, someday? And like.” He shifts, uncomfortably, curling his arms around himself. Lan Wangji wants to hug him, comfort him. He does not know how. “I never pictured a wife, but I don’t… I don’t want to be alone.”

Lan Wangji remembers the fantasy Wei Ying had described. It had been so casually referenced, the idea of a little farm and lots of children running around and food cooking inside. It’s featured heavily in his own fantasies, since, when he allows himself to forget that he was invited only as an interloper.

“Action does not equal attraction,” he tells Wei Ying, quietly. “You may yet find a… wife. If you want. If they are happy with the arrangement.”

“Maybe. But like, how do you know when you’ve found someone you’d be willing to spend your life with, if you don’t have the whole true love thing to work with? I mean, you were the only specific person I ever put anywhere near that whole dream. I can’t think of anyone I know who’d be… who’d fit…” He trails off, thinking.

Lan Wangji looks away, breathing through the emotional turmoil of that. He knows Wei Ying doesn’t mean it like Lan Wangji wishes he did. He’s as good as saying he can’t picture Lan Wangji there all the time, can’t see him as a true life partner of any sort. Lan Wangji will respect that. Of course he will. None of this is about him.

“How did you even figure all this out?” Wei Ying asks, suddenly, and Lan Wangji flinches. Wei Ying plows ahead without noticing. “I mean, there’s so many terms here, and I don’t know — maybe I’m just overthinking everything! I like thinking about sex, I like the idea of kissing! But apparently not like everyone else does? How did you ever sort all this out?”

It was the best words for how I felt about you, Lan Wangji thinks but does not say. It was the only way to make sense of the intensity and specificity of his feelings. How can he help, when Wei Ying’s problem is not knowing, instead of knowing too much?

“I mean,” Wei Ying continues, not waiting for any sort of response, “I mean, like, sure I’ve contemplated kissing people in the past. Specific people, even! I mean, I’ve thought about kissing you, who hasn’t, obviously, that’s just… That’s just part of friendship, isn’t it?”

Lan Wangji stares. All of his deep, meditative thoughts are crumpling around him. He cannot feel any part of his body. He cannot interpret any of this. If he tries, he may actually explode.

“Oooookay you’re looking at me weirdly,” Wei Ying says from very far away and also about two feet from Lan Wangji’s face. It should be farther. It should be much less. How can he cope with any of this. “So what you’re saying is that imagining kissing isn’t a normal part of any close friendship.”

How is Lan Wangji supposed to answer that? It’s certainly a normal part of his closest friendships. Friendship. Singular.

Wei Ying laughs, high and strained. “I don’t suppose we can just forget about what I just said, move back to. Uh. Some other topic? Um.”

Lan Wangji physically cannot. He thinks his entire brain has rewired itself to play “I’ve thought about kissing you” on repeat. He cannot think of anything else well enough to respond. He cannot muster the strength to echo it.

“Maybe I should just. Just go? Sorry, I know I made things weird, I wouldn’t blame—“

“Don’t,” Lan Wangji says. It’s spoken from his instincts, the ones that never want Wei Ying to leave, the ones that he overrules when he has any brainpower left over for them.

“Uh. Okay, Lan Zhan.” He looks nervous, Lan Wangji notes. He should say something to reassure Wei Ying. That sounds good.

“You’ve thought about kissing me,” he says instead. Hmm.

Wei Ying avoids his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah? I… I didn’t think that was a big deal but. I’m also kind of thinking of… a lot of other. Things. I’ve thought about and. Oh, I don’t know. They’re my problem, I guess. I already made things weird enough.”

“What things,” he says.

Wei Ying looks at him, eyes wide.

Lan Wangji struggles to gather his words. “I want. To hear. Your thoughts.” His hands are curled into fists so tightly they hurt. “Always,” he adds.

“Lan Zhan, no, I’ve already made you uncomfortable enough, I wouldn’t want to —���

“I am not uncomfortable.” He hesitates, and self-evaluates. “Or. That is not my primary emotion.”

“Confused you, then.”

And he can’t quite dispute that one. He is confused. He is dumbfounded, and… It takes a long moment to sort through everything else and identify the most prominent emotion.

“Yes,” he says, finally. “But I am also hopeful.”

That finally leaves Wei Ying speechless. It is nice to turn the tables again. He waits, in silence.

“What the fuck, Lan Zhan,” he finally says, weakly. “What the fuck do you have to be hopeful about.”

“You asked about how I figured my identity out.” Lan Wangji says. He can see the shape of the conversation again, he thinks. He does not know the end, but he is hopeful.

“We’re well past that!” Wei Ying says. “That was before I — before — Before —“

“I found the terms,” Lan Wangji says, ploughing ahead heedlessly, “because they best described how much I wanted to kiss you, Wei Ying.”

He has flabbergasted Wei Ying again. He savors it, watching Wei Ying blink and gape and wave one hand wildly. Finally, Wei Ying opens his mouth, and quietly says “Wanted? Past tense?”

“Want,” he admits. It comes easily, in spite of everything. Years of hidden pining, all leading to this one needle-point admission.

Wei Ying stares at him. It’s easy to meet his eyes.

He’s scared, of course he’s scared. He’s on tenterhooks, waiting for the response. But he has had no hope, no reason to say anything, sometimes not even a chance — and now he has them all.

“What the fuck,” Wei Ying finally says, “is this conversation.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head in agreement.

“I mean seriously, what the fuck. I mean this started with me mentioning a gay person at work and now you’re… we’re…. I’m….” He shies away from saying what, exactly, any of these pronouns are doing, which Lan Wangji thinks is deeply unfortunate. He, himself, has been uncomfortably vulnerable multiple times and Wei Ying has mostly just floundered at him. In fairness, he himself had a complicated process of coming to terms with his sexuality and would not have been balanced or coherent about it in the first ten minutes of questioning. He can and will be patient with this. In the part of him that does not care about fairness it rankles, that he spent the last ten years slowly making peace with his identity and here Wei Ying is with the exact same internalized heteronormativity that characterized middle school.

“So, but. You want to kiss me, though.”

Lan Wangji had been very clear on that, he thought. “Mn.”

“Why, though. I mean just… Why?”

Lan Wangji stares at Wei Ying, the love of his life, his best friend, the smartest person he knows, for a good long minute. “Because I am attracted to you. Romantically and sexually.”

They stare at each other for another long moment, Wei Ying’s mouth hanging open. “What the fuck, Lan Zhan,” he says, finally, weakly.

If he were someone else, he could, perhaps, rhapsodize about Wei Ying’s sterling qualities, the foundation of his attraction. He certainly has the material, but lacks the skill to shape it into something convincing. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable,” he says.

“Uncomfortable? Uncomfortable? I’m not uncomfortable, Lan Zhan, I’m just baffled. I mean, you’re you! Who wouldn’t want to hear this stuff from you! How am I supposed to deal with this! How am I supposed to figure out — wait hang on I’m calling Jiang Cheng.”

Lan Wangji blinks. He did not anticipate Wei Ying’s irritating brother being part of any of these confessions. To borrow a phrase from Wei Ying, what the fuck is this conversation.

“Jiang Cheng? Hi, Jiang Cheng, hey, quick question: how much do you think about kissing your male friends.”

The faint but irate voice of Jiang Cheng says “What the fuck, Wei Ying.”

“No, this is important. Do you think about kissing your friends? How often are you hanging out with like, other men, and just start thinking about kissing them. Like just occasionally, or.”

“Never! I never think about that! Why would I?”

“So like. If one of them — let’s say Lan Zhan — offered to kiss you. Would you want to?”

A silence. “Why the fuck would I want to kiss Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng says. Lan Wangji thinks maybe he should be offended, except that it is an exact mirror of his feelings toward Jiang Cheng. Besides, Wei Ying is making a very endearing offended face on his behalf.

“Why wouldn’t you want to kiss Lan Zhan — wait I just realized I could be doing that instead of arguing with you so I guess live on in your delusion.”

“What the fuck, Wei Ying! Don’t you dare go harassing —“

The line cuts off before Jiang Cheng can finish his threat. Fortunately, Lan Wangji cannot find it in himself to give one singular fuck about his opinion right now. He stares at Wei Ying, who looks, suddenly, nervous. He licks his lips, and Lan Wangji stares more. “Uh,” he says, finally. “I still don’t. Exactly. Know where I stand on most of this? Like I’m pretty sure I want to, uh, experiment with, with everything, ‘cause suddenly I have a ton of questions, but mostly I think it’s frankly very rude that you aren’t already kissing me, what’s up with that, Lan Zhan —“

Lan Wangji’s tattered patience abruptly snaps, and he is pulling Wei Ying’s face to his before the other can finish talking. After all, he was not raised to be rude.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Pope Heyward x reader

Requested by @princesspinto96​ // Summary: You and Pope have been dating for a while and you want to take the next step, but Pope is super nervous and turns to JJ & John B for advice. He gets super overwhelmed with all the new information and freaks out and you have to calm him down.

A/N: I hope you like it and it’s what you wanted!! xx 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: OPEN {CLOSED}

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

You and Pope had been dating for a couple years and well, you were ready to take the next step and be intimate. Both of you were virgins and completely in love. You felt it was time to take the next step. You two had intense make out sessions, but that’s as far as they would go. Usually Pope was the one who stopped them from going any farther.

You two were currently cuddled in your bed. Your head was on his chest, your leg draped over his. His fingers caressed the soft skin of your arm as he focused on the movie in front of you. Your parents were at work and you knew they wouldn’t be home for a few more hours. You turned your head to gaze up at him. You pressed a soft kiss on his jawline, catching his attention.

“Yes?”

You don’t say anything but sit up a little and press a hungry kiss against his lips.

He lets out a soft moan into the kiss as you swing your leg over him, straddling him. His hands move to your hips, then to your lower back, pulling you closer to him. He then flips the two of you over so he’s hovering above you. His hands on either side of your head as he kisses you again.

Your hands cup his cheeks, “Pope..”

He pulls away from the kiss, gazing down at you, “yes beautiful?” He gently pushes a piece of hair off your forehead.

“I’m ready..” you whisper quietly, going in for another kiss, but he pulls away.

“Um..” He clears his throat, jumping off of you, “I should go.”

You frown, sitting up on your elbows, watching as he gathers his things, “Pope, wait.”

He doesn’t look at you as he walks out your bedroom door, only glancing back over his shoulder, “I’ll see you at the boneyard later.” He quickly scurries out the door.

You huff, falling back on the bed.

~

Later than evening, you guys are gathered around the small bonfire, drinking from red solo cups. Pope sits next to you on the log. He had been quiet all night and you felt it was because of what happened earlier at your house. You hadn’t meant to freak him out like that, but you two had been dating for a couple years, so what was the big deal?

“Never have I ever… had sex.” John B says from across the bonfire. JJ and Kie both take a sip.

Kie looks at you and Pope, “Wait, you guys haven’t done it yet?”

You glance up at Pope, “No.”

“But you guys have been dating for 2 years.” JJ adds, “I just knew you guys had done the nasty.” He chuckles.

Pope suddenly finds his drink interesting. You can see he’s not going to answer, “We’re just taking our time. Don’t want to rush things.” You take a sip of your drink. The pogues can tell the conversation is not wanted anymore and JJ moves on to the next never have I ever.

You begin to wonder if Pope doesn’t feel the same way as you do. Does he not love you like you love him? I mean you were ready, but he wasn’t. Tears prick your eyes at the thought, “I’m going to get some fresh air.” You announce quietly, brushing off the back of your pants and then take off toward the direction of the water.

Pope helplessly watched as you walked away. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ready. He was, but he was terrified. What if he did something wrong? What if it wasn’t good enough for you? He wanted to be perfect for you because that was what you deserved.

~

Later that evening back at the chateau, he pulls JJ and John B aside as you and Kie walk inside. “I need your help.”

JJ glances at John B then at Pope, “Anything man. What’s up?”

Pope makes sure you’re in the house and can’t hear before facing the boys again, “Look… I want to..” He clears his throat, “I want to have sex with her but I don’t know what I’m doing.”

JJ puts a hand on his shoulder, “We got you dude.”

“JJ does, since I haven’t done anything yet.” John B chuckles.

“I just want.. I want it to be perfect for her.” Pope says.

JJ nods, “Okay well what you want to do is take care of her first. Okay? Lead up to the big moment. Get her in the mood.” JJ begins. JJ continues with the tips and tricks and John B pipes in when he knows about something. Or thinks of something JJ didn’t mention. Pope feels his brain begin to fill. This is too much information in such a small time frame. How was he going to memorize all this? How would he remember this when the time comes?

His breathing starts to increase, “How the hell am I supposed to remember all this?!” He runs his hands over his head, stepping back from JJ and John B, beginning to pace back and forth. What if he screws up anyways?

“What if I screw it up anyways? What if she leaves me?”

“Dude, it’s okay, calm down.” John B starts. He and JJ exchange a look. John B tries to calm Pope down, but it doesn’t work. Pope isn’t listening.

“What if I hurt her? Do something wrong?” His eyes are wide.

JJ pats John B’s shoulder, “go get y/n. He’s panicking.”

John B quickly rushes back to the house, “Y/n!”

You stand as John B bursts through the front door, “What? What’s wrong?”

“Pope.” He breaths out, “he’s panicking.”

“What? Why?” You follow John B down to where Pope is still pacing and muttering to himself.

“He asked us for advice on sex and well I guess we freaked him out.” You roll your eyes, of course they would bombard Pope with information.

“Pope? Baby?” You take a step toward him, “It’s okay.”

At the sound of your soft voice, he stops pacing and looks at you, his hands shaking, “I want it to be perfect. You deserve for it to be perfect.”

You nod, taking another step toward him, “Everything will be fine. You’re going to be perfect.” You gently wrap your arms around him. “Just calm down. You’re okay.”

He wraps his arms around you and his whole body relaxes at your touch. “There was so much information.”

You can’t help but let out a soft laugh, “I know baby, it’s okay.”

~

Later that week, you arrived home after spending the day with Kie to find Pope standing at your front door, waiting on you. He’d planned the entire night out for the two of you. Your parents would be out of town for the weekend, which was perfect timing. In his hand was one single rose. “What is all this?” You ask.

He smiles, handing you the rose, “I wanted it to be perfect.” He opens the front door to show your kitchen. On the table was a romantic candlelight dinner. Rose petals leading toward your bedroom.

“Oh..” You blush, realization hitting. Tonight would be the night. He listened to some of the advice from JJ and John B but he took the leap and listened to his own heart on how the night would go and what he would do. This night was between you and him, no one else. He would make sure it reflected the two of you in his own way. Not someone else’s idea. He knew he couldn’t plan everything down to the T, so he planned what he could. The dinner, the decor. And whatever happens, happens.

It ended up being the perfect night. There were a few awkward moments in the bedroom, but it was handled. As soon as the two of you got comfortable, the night went on, multiple times ;) and as soon as the two of you woke up, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. 

[apoguecalledjj]

Fixation (Chapter 7)

Series summary: Eleanor is new to the outer banks, and the pogues are quick to take her in. But so are the kooks, and as she grows closer with Rafe, trouble emerges. Trying to balance her relationship with the pogues and the kooks, as well as dealing with her own personal problems, Eleanor falls into a hole she may not be able to dig herself out of.

Chapter Word Count: 3383

Chapter Warnings: Physical abuse, drug use, vomiting, overdose, hospitals

Previous Parts: Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7

Taglist: @prejudic3 @maragritatimebaybee @drewxxrudy @outerbankslove @bricksatanakinswindow @alexa-playafricabytoto @gigi-june

The only words uttered from Rafe’s mouth on the drive home were “What the fuck.” The fact that he had even allowed her into his truck shocked Ellie, for once, instead of taking a chance to beat up a pogue, he simply grabbed Ellie’s arm and yanked him to his truck.

JJ’s eyes had met hers as she was forcefully dragged away, his eyes filled with worry as he glanced at the tight grip Rafe had on her, but she shook her head and discreetly gave him a thumbs up, letting him know she was okay. Even if she wasn’t sure she was.

Rafe’s hands now clutched the wheel tightly, his knuckles white and shaking. Every so often he would glance over, anger prominent on his face, before shaking his head and turning back towards the road.

“Rafe,” Ellie started, quietly, scared of angering him even more. He didn’t respond, instead just simply grunting at her voice. “Rafe, I love you, I swear. I do.”

“Do you? It sounds like there’s a but.” Rafe didn’t turn his attention from the road. The calmness in his voice terrified Ellie.

“There’s no but. I’m sorry, babe. He started to lean in and before I could even stop him-” She trailed off, cursing herself internally. Rafe hated JJ enough as it was, and now she had thrown him completely under the bus even though they were equally at fault for the kiss. 

“Ellie I don’t care.” Ellie looked at him, biting her lip in confusion. “I know what the fucking pogues are like. Especially JJ.”

He pulled into the driveway of his house, pushing the truck into park and jumping out before Ellie could even move. He was waiting for her, he plucked open the passenger side door and motioned for her to get out.

Both her feet had barely touched the ground before Rafe shoved her roughly into the side of the truck. “You shouldn’t have been fucking around him though,” He snarled into her ear, his fingers digging deep into her shoulder blades, her back pressed against the truck.

“I’m sorry, Rafe,” Ellie choked out, her shoulders burning with pain. Rafe pushed her against the truck harshly once more before pulling away.

“It’s okay, baby. I know you won’t do it again. I love you.” 

Ellie nodded quickly, wiping away a couple of stray tears that had leaked from her eyes. “I love you too.”

“I’m going to take a shower. Wait for me in my room?” Rafe didn’t wait for a response, immediately moving to go into the house. Ellie wasn’t far behind him. 

All she could think about was getting high. She needed something to distract her from everything. The fact that she and JJ had kissed. The fact that she enjoyed it. The realization that she was scared of her boyfriend, who she knew she had no true feelings for, and that she couldn’t stop thinking about JJ. 

Ellie knew exactly where Rafe kept his coke, but she was shocked to see way more than she was used to in the drawer. Immediately, she ripped open the bag, preparing a line and wasting no time snorting it.

A few lines later, Rafe emerged from the bathroom, a towel draped low on his waist and his hair still dripping wet. “Oh fuck Ellie what are you doing? That’s the shit I was supposed to sell for barry.” He ran a finger through his hair, clearly stressed, his gaze locked on Ellie, and the abundance of powder in front of her.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow, Rafe. I’ll pay you back. Just c’ mere. I got a line here for you.”

Rafe would never turn down coke, and soon, the two of them were laughing and giggling together, the night finally going right. Everything from before was forgotten, and all Ellie could focus on was that moment. The kiss, the fight, all forgotten as she did line after line after line. --- JJ was stressed and none of the pogues could calm him down. “I should call her.” He stood up suddenly from his spot on the couch, looking towards where his phone was charging in the kitchen of the chateau. It was late now, nearing 1 AM, and nearing 7 hours since Rafe had dragged Ellie away, causing her to miss her shift.

“You can’t call her man. She’s with Rafe. It’ll make things worse.” Pope spoke from where he was sat next to JJ. The four of them, Pope, John B, Kiara, and Sarah, had immediately left The Wreck and came back to the chateau after finding JJ stood in shock alone with his head in his hands outside.

“She’s doing fucking drugs, Pope! And now she’s gone home with Rafe. You didn’t see the way he grabbed her. He’s gonna hurt her, I know it. And I didn’t do shit! I should have done something. He’s gonna hurt her because of me. It’s all my fucking fault!” JJ rambled on, yelling and clenching his fists. 

John B rushed across the room and grabbed him, trying to calm him down. “JJ. You gotta stop. If you would have touched Rafe it wouldn’t have helped and you know that. She’s okay. Rafe’s not gonna hurt her.”

JJ sat back down, defeated. He was exhausted, his head spinning. All he could think about was confessing to Ellie, kissing Ellie, Rafe grabbing Ellie. Ellie doing coke. So many things Ellie didn’t deserve. He searched, searched his brain so hard for reasons Ellie would turn to Rafe, and give in to doing drugs. He found nothing.

“I texted her, JJ. She messaged back. She said she’s good. And there’s a smiley face. You can relax now,” Kiara said. She turned her phone screen towards JJ, allowing him to read the texts.

“We still caught her snorting coke,” JJ reminded her. He was stressed, terrified for Ellie, he wanted nothing more than to rush over to figure 8 and help her.

“We’ll help her in the morning, JJ. We’re not gonna let this go any farther, but there’s nothing more we can do tonight. Not while she’s with the brother.” Sarah told JJ. “Right now we should just try to get some sleep. She works tomorrow, right Kie?” Kiara nodded, and Sarah continued, standing up from where she was sat. “Exactly, so let’s get some sleep now, and we’ll talk to her in the morning. We can meet her at the wreck, first thing.”

Reluctantly, JJ agreed and made his way to the spare bedroom. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, he finally fell asleep, but not before setting an alarm for 8:30, a half-hour before the start of Ellie’s shift. --- One minute, Ellie was feeling great. All her stress was gone, her mind free of any negativity. Euphoria rushed over her, her body lazily leaned up against Rafe’s as she gazed at the ceiling.

The next minute, she was anxious. She had no idea what changed, or what she was anxious over. Suddenly, it felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her throat was tight, her heart thumping so hard she could feel it. Ellie was so aware of everything, her body touching Rafe’s, his hair tickling her face. The way her shirt stuck to her body. 

Her hands slightly trembled, and she tried her best to stop them before Rafe noticed, but she felt as if she couldn’t focus on anything. Rafe felt her shaking, which was quickly getting worst, and pulled away to look at her. “Ellie? What’s wrong?”

Ellie opened her mouth but she couldn’t speak, instead beginning to gag as a wave of nausea rushed over her so quick she hardly noticed. Sweat pooled on her forehead, down her back, and god, why was her shirt sticking to her so fucking bad? She tried to pull it away but her body was trembling, she couldn’t get a grip on the fabric.

“Gonna throw up,” She mumbled as she continued to gag, her vision blurring as excessive heat came over her. She was so hot. So fucking hot. What was going on? Her heart, beating, beating so quick, it was gonna come out of her chest. Her heart was gonna beat out of her chest.

Ellie’s breathing quickened, she tried to focus on her heart, trying to slow it down so it wouldn’t beat right out of her chest, but everything was swirling, why was everything swirling?

Rafe picked her up quickly, rushing to the bathroom. he placed her gently on the floor but realized shortly after that she couldn’t hold herself up. He held her up to the toilet, and it didn’t take her long to empty the contents of her stomach- the alcohol she had drunk earlier that night. She had forgotten about that.

Rafe cursed, this was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight. Ellie had never gotten hungover this bad before, so why now? They hardly had any, and It wasn’t even the next morning. He swore again as he felt her go limp in his arms, she had fallen asleep, he assumed.

He picked her up once again, carrying her to the bed. The heat radiating from her body scared Rafe. He placed her in his bed, before going back to the bathroom to get a cold cloth for her forehead.

What the fuck was wrong with her? He had never experienced something like this before. He was used to dealing with hangovers, he got them al the time, and Topper was a lightweight. He had dealt with comedowns from coke, dealt with Ellie’s comedowns specifically, and it had never been like this. 

How much had she done tonight anyway? Rafe realized he didn’t know. He glanced at the multiple bags sitting on his desk from where he was sitting next to Ellie’s still trembling body, and finally noticed how many of them were empty. Was she overdosing? He couldn’t call an ambulance. That would get him, and Ellie probably, in trouble, and she wouldn’t want that. She would probably wake up in a few hours, perfectly fine. Yeah, Rafe thought, she’ll wake up perfectly fine.

Her phone lit up from where she had thrown it on the bed earlier. A text from Kiara, asking how she was. Rafe frowned, enraged at the reminder that his girlfriend was friends with the pogues, but the last thing he needed was them showing up here, so he sent a text back.

Ellie’s body jerked roughly. And then again. Rafe turned to look at her and his heart immediately dropped, her body jerking and twitching much more than before. Was this a seizure? There was drool, slightly dripping from her mouth, and Rafe officially panicked. This was bad. This was really fucking bad.

He turned Ellie on her side, he managed to remember that. Then he rushed across the room, quickly chucking the plastic bags with remnants of white powder into the back of his quite cluttered drawer.

Finally, after one last look at Ellie’s twitching body, he called an ambulance, gave them directions and instructions, and left. --- 8:45 the next morning, the pogues were at The Wreck. The five of them were sat at a corner table, silent. JJ twiddled with his fingers nervously, looking up every couple of minutes to check the door.

Kiara’s eyes didn’t move, they were fixated on the front door, waiting for Ellie to walk in perfectly okay. None of them would admit it, in fear of making JJ’s anxiety worse, but they were all worried about Ellie’s wellbeing.

Pope glanced at his watch. “It’s 9,” He muttered, leaning to peer out to the parking lot for any sign of Ellie’s truck.

“She’s never late,” JJ spoke quietly, his jaw clenched as he gazed around the room.

“JJ, I’m sure she’s fine, just give her 10 minutes.” But Kiara’s voice wavered, she was unsure as well, constantly checking her phone for the time. “She’s never late,” JJ repeated.

5 minutes passed, then 15. 20. Still, no sign of Ellie and the morning rush was about to begin. Mr. Carrera came out of the kitchen, a deep frown etched into his face as he made his way to the teens in the corner.

“Kiara? Eleanor’s meant to be here. Do you know where she is?” His voice was stern, it was obvious that he was disappointed.

“We don’t know dad, we’re worried about her. We were waiting for her to show up.” At Kiara’s words, his face softened, and he gestured towards the kitchen.

“Come back. We’ll make some phone calls. I’m sure she’s okay.” He placed his hand gently on his daughter's shoulder as she bit her lip nervously.

Kiara followed her dad to the back, leaving her four friends. Pope’s stare was fixated on nothing, he was staring ahead blankly, not knowing what to think. John B ran his hand through his hair, over and over again, it was getting greasy but that was the last thing he cared about. Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes, the thought of her brother hurting her new friend tearing her apart. JJ’s lip quivered, he was trying his best not to cry but wasn’t doing a good job. No one mentioned it, the fact that JJ was openly crying just showed how serious the situation really was.

No one spoke, no one had anything to say. They all cared about Ellie, she had weaseled her way into their hearts and they all considered her a good friend.

Kiara burst out of the kitchen, the door banging loudly against the wall as she ran causing multiple customers to look up. Her movements were frantic as she darted across the room, her eyes wide with shock. JJ jumped up, knowing something was wrong.

“Come on guys we have to go.” Kiara didn’t stop, instead just motioned for her friends to follow her to the van. “Ellie’s in the hospital.” --- The five of them rushed into the hospital, earning many glares from nurses and doctors as they did. Pope was the first to spot Travis Adair sitting on the other side of the waiting room, and they made their way over to him quickly.

Travis stood up, his face furious as he faced the three pogue boys. “You,” He snarled. “Was this your fault?”

It was obvious that it was only directed at the three pogues, the two kook girls not included in his discriminatory accusations. Sarah but in, using her kook status to her advantage. “Travis, none of us know what happened. We love Ellie and we’ve been worried all morning. This isn’t any of our faults, she was with my brother last night.”

Travis’s expression turned to confusion. “Rafe?” Sarah simply nodded, and Travis sat down, sighing deeply. “I suppose I should tell you what happened, then.” He paused. “I’m sorry for blaming you.”

JJ nodded curtly, normally he would be offended but at this moment, he just needed to know what happened to Ellie.

“She overdosed on cocaine. The doctors said the levels in her body were extreme, and there were also traces of alcohol. An ambulance was called to the Cameron residence, but there was no one to be found there, besides her.” He nodded towards Sarah. “I assumed she was with you guys, but now I know I was wrong.”

JJ rubbed his jaw, he needed to know if Ellie was okay. He didn’t doubt that the levels of cocaine in her body were high, Rafe often had lots and he was an idiot when it came to drugs. It angered him even more that she had been left alone, Rafe didn’t even have the decency to stay with her and make sure she was okay. His hands balled into fists by his side, if he wasn’t so desperate to see Ellie he would have already left to beat the shit out of Rafe.

Travis continued. “They found her seizing, unconscious. She had vomited multiple times. I was told the seizure could have been avoided if the ambulance would have been called earlier. But, Rafe, I guess, didn’t call when he should have.”

“How is she now?” John B asked.

“Stable, but still unconscious. They have no idea when she’ll wake up, so we’re just waiting it out. She’s allowed one visitor at a time, Annette is in with her now, but one of you can go in next.”

They all looked at JJ. Of course, he should be the one to see her first, they all agreed on that. He simply nodded, accepting that he would be the first one to see her.

“We know about her mom,” Kiara spoke softly, looking up from the tiled floor to meet Travis’s eyes.

He nodded. “That’s another factor in this. I was unsure if she would have told you guys or not, she was pretty set on keeping it secret. I guess that shows she really does trust you guys.”

‘Will she have to go to rehab?” Pope inquired.

“We haven’t decided yet.” 

At that moment, Annette appeared from down the hallway, smiling softly at the teenagers surrounding her husband. “I’m assuming one of you want to be the next to see her?” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“JJ,” Kiara exclaimed, pushing him forward. “JJ’s going first.”

Everything was a blur to him as he walked down the hallway. “117, 117, 117,” He mumbled to himself, not wanting to forget it. He bumped into someone, he wasn’t sure who, and mumbled an apology but didn’t stop. All he was fixated on was the numbers on the doors.

117. He found it and pushed the door open slowly. At first glance, the room seemed empty, there was no sign of any movement. But it didn’t take long for the steady beeps to reach JJ’s ears, and he walked over towards the bed, a tear falling from his eye once again as he finally took in Ellie’s appearance.

She was pale, paler than he had ever seen her. Her lips were chapped, aching for the lip balm she usually applied religiously. An IV was in her hand, which was rested on the bed behind her. The makeup she had been wearing the night before was smudged under her eyes, no one must have had a chance to take it off. He made a mental note to tell Kiara to bring makeup wipes and lip balm later. 

JJ sat in the chair next to her and gently took her hand into his. It was limp, which worried him, but the heart monitor next to the bed assured him she was alive. 

“El,” He whispered, even though she couldn’t hear him. “El I’m sorry I didn’t help you in time. I shouldn’t have let you leave with Rafe.” His voice shook as he started to cry. “I know I said this yesterday but I have to say it again. You’re doing things to me El, I’m fucking crazy about you. And-” He choked back a sob. “It’s scaring me. I’ve never felt like this before, and it’s really scaring me. And now, seeing you here like this, it’s, it’s tearing me apart.

“You gotta wake up soon, El. I need to see your beautiful eyes again. I want to see you smile and hear your voice.” JJ let out a light chuckle through his cries. “Oh, El, if you could see me now you’d tease me, I know it. All sappy and sad, crying. I never used to cry, not in front of anyone, anyways. I think the pogues have seen me cry more today then they have since they've known me.”

JJ squeezed her hand gently. “Last night I told you I was falling in love with you, but I take that back. The falling is already done. I’m in love with you, El, and I’m terrified. I don’t know what to do, or how to do this. I never knew what I wanted in life, but now I do. It’s you, Eleanor. All I want is you.”

JJ waited quietly, knowing it was far fetched yet praying anyway for some type of response, but instead was just left with the beep, beep, beep of the machine by the bed.

[alocalband]

Duct Tape and Wishful Thinking Sterek, 1.3k, Teen For the prompt: things you interrupted me to say Also on AO3

“You’re doing it again.”

Derek frowns. “Doing what?”

“Staring.”

Without meaning to, Derek’s eyes immediately glance back over to Stiles, and then quickly away.

Scott smirks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Derek.”

Derek’s gaze drifts helplessly once more back to where Stiles is fully bent over the engine of the Jeep, intently toying with whatever duct tape and wishful thinking are holding the whole thing together.

Those jeans are doing amazing things for his ass.

Scott’s elbow hits Derek hard in the side. “Quit ogling my best friend and help me keep watch.”

They’ve been out here in the dark of the preserve for a couple hours now. It started as a meandering search for the source of whatever’s been leaving headless carcasses at the Nemeton all week, Stiles roaming the edges of the forest in the Jeep while Scott and Derek did runs through the trees alongside.

Then, of course, the hunk of junk died, and now the agenda for the evening is basically just to make sure nothing attacks Stiles before he’s had a chance to make the thing start running again.

“I am not ogling.”

“I can literally smell how much that’s a lie.”

Look, it is not Derek’s fault Stiles got back from his second year of college looking like that, okay? Maybe if someone had warned him that Stiles suddenly figured out what to do with his hair and how to dress himself and had apparently been hitting the gym pretty regularly, Derek might have been able to prepare for this.

As it is, it’s all a little too much. Derek might have already been having certain... feelings about the guy before, but this is ratcheting those feelings up to a level he’s not sure how to handle.

“Please just ask him out already and put us all out of our misery.”

Derek is definitely not doing that.

For a lot of reasons, really, but mainly because he’s not exactly interested in getting his heart broken. And he knows Stiles doesn’t feel that way about him, that the most Stiles feels for him is reluctant camaraderie. Which is fine. He can deal. He’s obviously weathered worse romantic situations in his life.

Derek’s eyes betray him once again as they fall onto the hard lines of Stiles’ back. He’s wearing a shirt that actually fits him, which means the corded muscles are clearly visible beneath the fabric as he works.

But if Derek’s honest with himself, the problem here isn’t just that he wants to take Stiles back to the loft and lick every inch of him. It’s that he also wants to, like, bring him breakfast in bed afterwards and then discuss the merits of a June wedding.

He really needs to get this under control.

“Oh my god, can you at least turn the pining down a couple of notches?” Scott whines.

Derek huffs and turns to scowl at him. “Listen, I’m dealing with it, alright? It’s just harder to move on when-- when he’s right there. But I’m keeping it in check, and when he heads back to school in the fall, I’ll find a way to get over it. I’m not going to let my feelings get in the way of--”

“Hey, you guys know I can hear you, right?”

Derek’s mouth snaps shut, and both he and Scott turn to where Stiles is now just sitting on the closed hood of the Jeep watching them. “Also the Jeep’s been fixed for about ten minutes now, I just really wanted to see where this conversation was gonna go.” He smirks, the little shit. “I was not disappointed.”

Scott chokes on a barely held back laugh.

Derek draws in a deep breath, holds it for a silent count of ten, and then turns around and starts walking.

He’d run, but he has slightly more dignity than that.

Slightly.

From behind him he can hear Scott and Stiles arguing with each other, but he tunes it out and keeps going. He doesn’t need to hear it.

Half an hour later, back in the loft and dressed down for bed, very pointedly not letting his thoughts linger anywhere near the events of the evening, Derek’s front door opens and Stiles strides in.

Derek sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please leave.”

“Hey, if you didn’t want me dropping by unannounced you shouldn’t have given me a key.”

“I didn’t give you a key. You stole mine and made a copy while I was unconscious after the troll incident.”

Stiles waves this off with one hand and a roll of his eyes, as if to say po-tay-to po-tah-to, and then throws himself onto Derek’s couch. “So. About what you said.”

“We don’t need to talk about this.” Derek crosses his arms over his chest and starts contemplating how well picking Stiles up and tossing him back out the door would go over.

“I think we should anyway.”

“It’s not an issue.”

“It could be.”

“Stiles...” Derek sighs again. “Please don’t make me do this.”

Stiles bites his lip and looks down at the hands he now has clasped together in his lap. “Yeah, so the thing is I kinda love you too.”

Derek freezes.

He’s certain he heard the wrong.

Stiles jumps back up from his seat and starts pacing nervously, completely ignoring Derek’s current mental breakdown. “So obviously I’ve been attracted to you since day one, you know that. Anyone with eyeballs knows that. But then there was Mexico, and I thought-- But I mean, why the hell would you ever reciprocate? I’m me and you’re... Whatever. But I caught a bad case of what I thought was unrequited feelings, and I was just gonna suffer in silence, right? That seemed like the mature response--adulthood freaking sucks by the way--but apparently... you like me back?”

He stops short and finally looks at Derek head on. “You do, right? I didn’t hallucinate the last couple hours?”

At that, Derek does the only thing his still offline brain can come up with. He closes the distance between them and kisses him.

It’s a good kiss. Something Derek’s going to remember years later, no matter how the aftermath of it shakes out. Stiles immediately goes pliant in Derek’s arms, and then, after a moment, starts taking over in that way he has of throwing himself into a project with the enthusiasm of someone who’s not just willing but eager to pull multiple all-nighters for it.

Panting, they break apart, though Stiles keeps pulling at Derek’s shirt with both hands like he’s afraid Derek will move away any farther that those couple inches.

Derek squeezes Stiles’ hips with his own hands in reassurance, and then ducks his head down and to the side to press his nose into the hair at Stiles’ temple.

“’Love?’” he whispers, trying not to sound as hesitant as his heart definitely is.

Stiles swallows, then turns his head a little so that he can place a kiss at the juncture between Derek’s neck and shoulder. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” Derek breathes.

And then they’re kissing again.

It takes them a little while, but eventually they make it to the bed. Derek does, in fact, get to lick an awful lot of mole-dotted skin, and does, in fact, make Stiles breakfast in bed the next morning.

He’s smart enough to save the June wedding talk for a little later.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Five Times Thor Held Your Hand, and the One Time He Didn’t

Thor always loved you, and didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t hold your hand - until he couldn’t anymore. (contains slight Endgame Spoilers)

1. 

“Are you going to go back home?” You asked him, arms crossed as you wiped your hands clean of the remnants of shawarma you had eaten, glancing at the God of Thunder.

Thor ran a hand through his hair, “I must return my brother and the tesseract to Asgard, so yes. I will be leaving tonight.”

You gave a slow nod, watching him stare up at the sky, “Do you miss your home?”

“As opposed to fighting an alien invasion my brother caused? Sure,” and you had to bite back a smile. You never thought a god could have such a good sense of humor, “but I will miss our conversations. You have a way of making things…not seem as terrible as they are.”

You felt your cheeks burn in spite of yourself, not able to meet his eyes, “And I thought you were leaving because you were getting tired of me,” and it was his turn to smile, fingers coming delicately to turn your head, his gaze locking with yours.

“I could never tire of your company, Y/N.” he said, before turning to face the stars again, and his hand dropped to your side, but not before you felt his fingers brush yours, asking for permission, and you welcomed it, spreading your fingers wide and interlocking your hand with his. It was softer than you expected, and he held tighter than you expected, palms pressed together. His warmth encompassed you, his hand sending warmth from your head to your toes. Even as you stood apart – too far – it felt almost farther than the distance of light years that would soon be between you.

But soon enough, his hand fell away, as he turned to you, a bittersweet smile on his lips, “Goodbye Thor,” you smiled, “have a safe trip back.”

“It isn’t goodbye. It’s like you midgardians say,” he held up his hand calling forth his hammer, “it’s ‘see you later.’”

2. 

“It’s been a long time,” Your voice made the God of Thunder turn his back with a grin, “’See you later’ really meant a lot later.”

“Y/N!” he walked over, hesitating, unable to decide whether he wanted to hug you, or shake your hand, and the awkwardness washed over the room, as he carefully clapped his hand on your shoulder, “it’s good to see you.”

You seemed to brush off his awkward greeting, only smiling, “And you too, Thor. We have a lot to catch up on, but I have a meeting with Fury to get to first. Make sure you catch him up on all he’s missed.”

And you left without another word, leaving Thor staring at your retreating back. And he heard someone clear his throat, finding the other Avengers staring at him with knowing smiles, “What?”

“Nothing,” Tony said with a shrug, “but I’m wondering when you’re planning on asking out Y/N, just so we know to avoid your rooms.”

Steve coughed, clearing his throat, “Tony,” he warned, before Tony held up his hands.

“Hey, they were the ones acting like they were the only ones in the room,” Tony approached Thor, clapping him on the shoulder, “A tip for next time, Sparky. If there’s a girl you like, don’t do this.”

Thor glared at him, “Are you one to give romantic advice, Stark? I may not have inhibited Earth very long, but it didn’t take very long to hear of your reputation.”

“Okay, guys,” Natasha clapped her hands together, “enough with the testosterone contest. Let’s get down to business.”

But even as they began their meeting, Thor couldn’t help but glance at the door you had left out of, and mope at the thought of you. What a fool he was.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked, finding him on the roof, offering him a penny before frowning, “I suppose a penny isn’t much for a god’s thoughts.”

“Our thoughts are not that valuable,” Thor chuckled, taking the penny, “especially mine.”

“Thor,” you chided, “your thoughts are important, at least to me they are.”

“Well, you would be one of the first to think that,” he sighed, walking towards the edge of the roof, “My father believes I should be the leader of Asgard. The new King. My people believe the same.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think,” he said slowly, the words slipping past his lips without another thought, a truth, one that he hadn’t admitted, not even to himself, “that I miss my mother.”

“Your mother?” your footsteps echoed against the concrete ceiling, “What happened to her?”

And Thor sighed, shaking his head, “She died, after I went back to Asgard. I couldn’t save her. I failed her.”

“Thor-“

“I should have been there. I should have saved her,” he whispered, holding his head, “I should have stayed with them. It should have been me.”

“Thor, stop,” you pried from gently from his ramblings, pulling him to your side, “you did everything you possibly could. You don’t have the powers of multiplication. You’re still one man. You can’t save everyone.”

“This was my mother, Y/N,” he said quietly, “if I couldn’t save her, what good am I to anyone else?” and you sighed, and he was unable to meet your gaze, “you’ll find that I am quite stubborn, and very difficult to beat in the art of an argument.”

“With that magic hammer of yours, I’d imagine that,” but you shook your head, gesturing outward, “what about these people? All the ones you saved, all the ones you came here to save, your people on Asgard who you protected from an attack. Your mother would be proud of you, and she wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for things you can’t control.”

Thor sniffed, feeling his eyes water, as he turned his back to you, “I don’t remember the last time I cried, it has been a while.”

“Well, even the ‘mighty’ Thor needs to cry every once in a while,” and he chuckled, as you stepped beside him, your gaze fixed ahead, “No more guilt, okay?”

His hand brushed yours again, without a thought. He was drawn to you, was the simplest way he could explain it. No other gave him such comfort, it was ease, it was warmth, it was…something else, and as you fingers interlaced with his, he smiled, he looked forward to figuring what that something is.

3.

“I needed this,” you admitted, sitting across the bar from Thor, “all the Ultron stuff,” you shook your head, “I miss when the weirdest thing in my life was your existence.”

Thor rose a brow, “I was the weirdest thing? As opposed to the super suits, assassins, and super soldier?”

“You’re a god of thunder from a different planet, with a magic hammer,” you took another swig, before setting down your drink, “I think you win the weirdness contest, at least you did before.”

“I don’t know whether to be insulted that I held the title or that I lost it,” and you laughed, covering your mouth when you attracted the gaze of several patrons for your volume.

“For that, I’m going to buy you a drink,” you slide off your chair, fingers brushing his shoulder before you left, and he watched you over his shoulder with a smile. He let out a heavy sigh, knocking back the rest of his drink, hoping it would provide him with the courage he needed to tell you his feelings. He set down his glass, was it useless to feel these things? Would be simpler to ignore them? He had never felt so hesitant with himself. He had always been so sure, but when it came to you, he couldn’t help but hesitate.

“Can you back off?” He heard your voice behind him, and he looked to see a man with his hand around your wrist, face too close to yours, as you glared back at the man. He didn’t think. He was by your side in a moment, ripping the man’s hand off you, standing in between you and him.

Arms crossed, he towered over the man, who blinked twice at him, “Hey buddy, I didn’t realize she was with you. I just wanted to buy her a drink.”

“You didn’t realize that this woman would tear you half and then some,” Thor growled, stepping forward, feeling you pull on his sleeve, before he spared a glance at you, shaking your head, “you were spared today. But let this be a lesson,” He held out his hand, summoning his hammer to his side, flying in through the propped open door, and right past the man’s face, who blanched at the glowing hammer less than an inch from his face, “lay another unwanted hand on anyone, and you will have me to answer to.”

Without another word, Thor took your hand, pulling you out of the bar, as you pulled crumpled bills from your pocket, paying off the tab, “Thor, Thor!” he didn’t stop until you both were a good distance from the bar, “Thor, stop, please.”

He released your hand, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest, “What it took not to throw that man across the bar, I don’t know how you held back.”

“I know,” you said gently, a soft hand on his shoulder, making him face you, “but I’m okay, because of you. And I think he’ll think twice with his two brain cells before he pulls that shit again.”

“Two? I think you give him too much credit,” and you laughed, contagious, as he laughed too, before he realized two of you were so close – only a breath away, and as your laughter died down, he found you staring at him, blinking, “Y/N.”

And you almost seemed to shiver, feeling his breath against your lips, “Thor, I-“ your eyes fluttered shut as he leaned closer.

“May I kiss you?” he asked, hesitant, as his hand reached for your own, and you took it, giving a silent nod, as his other hand came to rest on your cheek, tilting your head upwards to meet his. Your lips met, broke away, met again, broke away, until finally you wrapped your arms around his neck. He felt your lips move against his, and even when you both broke apart, his hand never left yours that night.

4.

“Finally sealed the deal huh?” Tony winked at Thor, looking between the two of you, sat outside Stark Tower, the sun hanging high, “don’t play dumb. I saw the two of you holding hands earlier, walking around like some Andy Hardy movie.” Again the two of you only looked stricken, as you finally folded up the newspaper you were looking at.

You gave a heavy sigh, “Tony, he was holding my hand because my aunt passed.”

Tony gave you both a onceover, raising a brow, “You’re messing with me, right?”

“No, Tony, would you like to see the death announcement?” you slammed your hands on the table, “I thought you’ve gotten better, but apparently you’re still a jackass.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry!” Tony rose, as Thor waved him off, following after you, only sparing Tony a glance.

“I truly thought you were only tiny, not petty,” shaking his head, he walked around a corner to see you grinning, holding out your hand for him.

“Do you think he’s going to have a stroke because of us one day?” you asked, as Thor took your hand, leading you down the hall to his room.

“Perhaps, but there is no way they can blame us.”

5.

“You should have went for the head,” Thanos had taunted him, before disappearing in front of him, and Thor turned to see you crumpling to the ground, on your knees. He ran. Ran amidst the chaos. Amidst the quiet before the screams. Amidst the dust that began to litter the ground instead of people, and he reached you.

“Y/N,” you gave a small smile, “Y/N, you’re going to be okay.”

You shook your head, a tear slipping from your eye, “No, I can feel it, Thor. I don’t know how to explain it. You have to let me go, Thor.”

“I-I-” No words came, only anger and frustration, but he couldn’t show you that. He needed to be strong - he needed to be stronger, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t.

“It’s not your fault,” your hand hesitantly reached to touch his cheek, and still Thor couldn’t say a thing. Words bubbled to the surface. So much he wanted to say. That he never had met another soul like yours. That he didn’t want you to go. That he wished it was him instead of you. That he loved you, and he never had loved someone as much as he had loved you. And it as if you could hear him say these things, as you shook your head again, hand falling to your side, “you don’t need to say anything, just hold my hand.”  

And so he did, taking your hand and weaving your fingers together as he had done so many times before. That night after Loki’s invasion. When you comforted him about his family. Their first kiss. First date. First morning waking beside each other. It all slipped through his fingers in that moment.

Just as you had. And now, he was left holding nothing but air.

1.

“Is it really you?” That was the first question Thor had asked upon seeing you. Five years, and it had only felt like a moment to you. You had left him for five years, and you saw what grief had done to him, untrusting and scared.

“It’s me, Thor,” you said, stepping forward, and his arms were around you in moment, “I missed you, so much.” and when he touched you, it was almost like your body realized it had been since he had held you, starved for his affection, and unable to get close enough, “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I don’t know how I would have spent five years without you.”

“I fell into a deep depression, in which I did nothing but drink and play a surprisingly addictive game called Fortnite. Then, Stark figured out how to time travel and we reassembled the gauntlet to undo the snap.” he shrugged, leaning away to meet your gaze, “You didn’t miss much.”

“I can tell,” you said, as you pressed a kiss to his lips, breaking away for a moment to press your foreheads together. He flinched as your fingers ran over one of his injuries by accident, “are you okay?”

“As you never leave me again,”

“Never,” you agreed, “It’s shit being dead without you there. Plus, now after we get rid of Thanos, you can teach me how to play Fortnite.”

“Oh, no, you don’t want to. Noobmaster brings out a particularly...ugly side of me,” he broke away from your embrace, summoning his hammers to his side, “I am sure we will find better things to preoccupy our time with.”

You smiled, “and what things are these?”

And instead of taking your hand, he pressed a kiss to your lips, a promise for your future, one that would be shared with him, “You’ll see.”

[bubble-tea-bunny]

an exercise in teamwork 

[freddy freeman x reader]

author’s note: painted my nails a cute spring shade and i am v happy  

word count: 2,882

Ever since you and Freddy had agreed to split the price of the new video game coming out at the end of the month, you have seen its name popping up everywhere—a commercial on television, plastered upon billboards you spot in passing down the freeway, the front page article with the biggest coverage on gaming news sites. This release was going to be huge. Of course the two of you had to get your hands on what many are beginning to argue may be game of the year.

People talk about it at school, in the hallways between periods. In the chaos of those five minutes, you catch snippets of conversations, finding out who’s already pre-ordered, who is going to, who’s going to be there for midnight release, and so on and so forth. At this point, from how much you’ve heard, half the student body must be buying this game.

Freddy laughs when you say that. He says you’re exaggerating and you don’t correct him because maybe you are, maybe you haven’t actually heard as many people talking about it as you think you have. And he tells you about a phenomenon called the Baader-Meinhof effect: It’s a frequency illusion. When you become aware of something, you start to notice it all over the place.

Huh, so that’s what that is! You’ve always wondered, and Freddy’s finally given it a name. You consider it for a moment, all the other times in your life you’ve experienced it, and you turn to him and say Wow, you’re so smart and he playfully tells you to shut up because he thinks you’re teasing and he’s embarrassed but you’re not teasing. He’s smart and he knows a lot of things and that’s only one reason you’re glad he is your best friend. You learn a little bit more from him each day.

Neither of you looks forward to the school lunches. Well, no one does. They certainly leave a lot to be desired but you eat it because you know you’ll regret it when you get hungry in a couple of hours and you’re still stuck in class. Today, however, Freddy is unable to get himself to follow your lead. He steps out of line to search for a table, and once you take the chair next to him and ask if he’s just going to buy chips from the vending machine, he shakes his head. He’d been running late this morning and failed to grab his wallet on his way out the door.

“But I’ll live,” he promises you, grinning lopsidedly.

You smile back but it’s not a satisfactory assurance. You’re about to offer to lend him a dollar, but you remember you’d spent it this morning when you bought a can of soda at the convenience store around the corner. So you begin scanning the other students in the cafeteria, and Freddy’s brows furrow and he asks what you’re doing, but you don’t answer.

“Be back in a sec,” you declare suddenly, standing up and rounding the table. Freddy watches, still thoroughly confused, as you walk across the room.

Delilah is at a corner table with who you assume to be her partner for the project in history, for they sit side-by-side with the rubric and a piece of paper scrawled in what you assume to be their ideas for how to tackle the assignment. She spots you before you speak up to announce your presence, and you smile widely when she does.

Freddy can’t read your lips from this far away, but he can see your smile clearly. It remains on your face for the duration of your conversation with Delilah, who reaches into her backpack. Her body blocks whatever she digs through it for, but then she’s produced a dollar bill that she holds out to you. If it were even possible, your grin widens even more, and with the dollar now in your grasp, you return to the table.

“Now you can get your chips.” You sound quite smug as you hand it off to him, plopping down in the hard chair (these cafeteria seats suck).

“What’d you say to her?” Freddy inquires, taking the dollar.

“That I’d pay her back tomorrow.” You shrug. “She trusts me.”

Freddy chuckles and shakes his head at your antics, but this is nothing new. In the time he’s known you he has found out just how easily you can get your way with that smile. You’ve gotten deadline extensions, an extra chocolate chip cookie from the lunch lady (it’s the only cafeteria food that’s actually good), and by now, he swears you could ask someone to do a backflip and they’d do it. It’s almost like your own superpower.

As he feeds the dollar into the vending machine and presses the buttons for the chips he wants, he’s thanking you silently in the back of his head (and Delilah too, to some extent). Once he has his snack, he turns back around, and you still wear the ghost of a grin as you watch him, like you heard him anyway.

One week before the game is set to be released, an announcement goes out that there will be a collectible handed out on a first-come, first-serve basis. Upon discovering this last piece of information, you and Freddy deflate. The line will be long at midnight, and the likelihood of their being anymore remaining figurines by three o’clock in the afternoon that Friday are incredibly low. Standing in line with everyone else, waiting for 12 AM to hit, is out of the question. You wouldn’t be allowed to go so late, and on a school night to boot.

“Hey, Anthony is working that night, isn’t he?”

Freddy nods and glances over at you where you sit on his bed, homework spread out on the sheets. “Yeah, he should be. Why?”

“I’m sure I could convince him to keep one for us.”

While Freddy is aware of the power of persuasion your grins hold, this is a case where he is very skeptical that it would be effective. Anthony hardly seems like a person who could be swayed. “A pretty smile can’t get you everything.” And though he is the one saying it, a part of him almost doesn’t believe that statement. Perhaps he’s wrong about Anthony (it’d be nice if he was and Anthony was indeed willing to hold onto an extra figurine).

But this remark is no blow to your confidence. Instead, you flash that aforementioned pretty smile in his direction. “We’ll see about that, Freeman.” Then you proceed to dive into your first assignment of the evening, flipping through a hard cover textbook with glossy pages and that took up almost half the space in your backpack.

Freddy laughs and, at least for now, concedes, murmuring Okay, [Name] and returning his attention to the computer.

On Thursday, you go straight to the game store after class. The bell atop the door jingles quietly and Anthony twists around. He lifts a hand to give a wave when he notices both of you walking farther in, towards where he is by the register.

“Oh, hey, guys,” he greets.

There are multiple boxes stacked on the table behind the register which no doubt hold multiple copies of the new game. Freddy’s almost inclined to ask for a peek, for the anticipation is nearly unbearable this close to release. He thinks if sees the cover art in person, even for just a second, he’d last until tomorrow. But he doesn't get the chance to bring this up, for you start speaking, and it reminds him to stay on track.

“Hey, Anthony,” you respond brightly, walking up to the counter and resting your arms on it. “So listen… you’re handing out those figurines tonight right?”

Anthony nods. “Yeah…” His eyes narrow and his brows furrow, signs that the cogs in his head are starting to spin, trying to figure out what you’re going to say next. You’re already continuing before he’s able to do so.

“Well we can’t pick up the game until tomorrow, and I was wondering if you could maybe hold onto one for us?”

At hearing this, Anthony sighs and shakes his head. “You know I can’t do that. It’s first-come, first-serve.”

“Pretty please?” You lay it on thick, smiling your familiar smile and you give the Cheshire cat a run for its money. Freddy’s gaze briefly slides from Anthony to you and if he had anything to say about it, if you aimed that smile at him, he’s not entirely sure he’d be able to refuse.

Anthony doesn’t reply right away, and there’s a moment where Freddy thinks you have managed to get your way. And if that is what’s happening right now, he doesn’t even care that he’s been proven wrong. You’d probably gloat, telling him in a sing-song tone I told you so, and he’d be a good sport and accept it and he’d promise not to underestimate you again.

Unfortunately, it appears as though there are still those out in the world who are impervious to your charm, for Anthony shakes his head again. (Freddy notices that he does look considerably more apologetic as he does, which means your grin had had some effect, at least.) “Sorry, [Name].”

Your smile drops, replaced by a slight frown, and your shoulders slouch—a picture of defeat. It occurs to Freddy he’s never seen you legitimately bummed about anything. Whether your dejection comes from the fact this means there will be no collectible figurine to be had, or from the fact your honey-dipped grin hadn’t worked, he’s not certain. Suddenly he hates that he had been right about the limitations of what he had always coined as your little superpower.

But he’s not going to let you flounder, disoriented in the face of loss. He’s your friend, your best friend, and what kind of friend would he be if he did that? So he wracks his brain—Think, Freddy, think!—for anything he could say to come to your aid.

“I’ll give you my lunch money for the next few weeks,” he proposes.

Anthony’s nose scrunches up like he’s smelled something bad. “I’m not taking your lunch money, Freeman. That makes me sound like a bully.”

It’s quiet again for a few seconds, and Freddy’s scrambling to come up with something else. Money was supposed to work! If Anthony didn’t want that, what else could there be to bribe him with? In the midst of his flurried thoughts he catches the small grin you aim his way from over your shoulder, appreciative of his attempts to assist you, and it’s the eye of the storm. And then you’ve turned back around, and your mouth opens and he knows you’re going to concede and tell Anthony it’s fine but before you can do that, Freddy beats you to the punch.

“I can get you a date with Mary.”

This stops you short, and your mouth closes and you look at him again, but this time your eyes are widened a fraction in surprise. Anthony’s shock matches yours, and Freddy’s gaze flickers from Anthony over to you briefly, and in that short instance he can tell you’re silently asking what he’s doing.

“You’d do that?” Anthony’s question, voiced with skepticism and complemented by a raised brow, steals back Freddy’s attention.

Freddy shrugs. “Yeah, man.”

Mary had accompanied him to this shop in the past, giving him a ride so he didn’t have to take extra time using public transport. And whenever she’d been here, Anthony had been positively enamored. If one were to point it out, he’d vehemently deny it, but to Freddy, it had been glaringly obvious, almost embarrassingly so. He wonders if Mary noticed it too, and concludes she probably had. From what he can remember, their interactions had been fairly amicable, so perhaps this seemingly insane suggestion isn’t actually that insane.

Anthony braces his hands on the edge of the counter, staring down at both of you and seriously considering the offer. You wait with bated breath for his decision, at the end of your rope now and if this didn’t work, well, nothing would and then, then, it would be time to throw in the towel.

The bell jingles again as a customer enters and it startles you, causing you to flinch slightly, and Freddy catches the jolt in his peripherals. He chuckles at your jumpiness, and the melting away of the tension of the last several seconds prompts Anthony to finally come to a decision.

“Okay,” he states.

Your eyes light up and the smile Freddy likes seeing so much is back on your face. He forces himself to look away before he’s caught staring, and he looks at Anthony and joins you in thanking him profusely, interspersing the string of gratitude with phrases like You’re awesome, dude and You’re the best employee we know. Anthony waves it off and says I’m the only employee you know but he’s grinning a little so you know he’s not annoyed.

Other people are beginning to come into the store, some of them your age, for they had all made their way here as well after school was dismissed, and Anthony moves the conversation along, the bell continuing to chime in the background. “Was that all you guys needed? I got a full shop and still have to take inventory for tonight.”

“Yes, totally.” Freddy nods.

“We’ll get out of your hair now,” you add.

And as the two of you make your leave, in high spirits and practically buzzing with excitement because the day you’d been waiting months for (though it had felt much longer) is just around the bend, Freddy tosses over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow!”

On the walk to the subway station, you ask if Mary would be okay with what Freddy had done. That’s when Freddy realizes he never did recount to you those times she had come to the store with him and how much Anthony had taken a liking to her. He fills you in during the trip to his house, and at the end of it, remarks that he thinks Mary will be just fine.

The next day at 4:19 PM, the two of you are sitting on the floor in Freddy’s bedroom, eyes glued to the screen and fingers flying over the controllers. The sound effects floating out from the speakers is forced to compete with the loud clacking of buttons, and it would be for a while yet, for it’s Friday, and as far as either of you is concerned, this is how your Friday afternoon and evening will be spent.

Between levels, you hit pause to take a few minutes’ break, stretching your backs and clenching and unclenching your hands, for they had begun to strain with how hard you gripped the controllers. The house is steadily filling with noise as the others return, and it reminds Freddy to ask if you’re staying for dinner. You say sure, and he says he thinks he might be able to convince Rosa and Victor to order pizza. It’s the perfect gaming food, after all he reasons.

A breeze wafts in from the open window and it prompts you to take a deep breath, chest expanding and then shrinking with your exhale. The exclusive collectible figurine, a PVC recreation of the game’s main character, sits between you both, next to the sodas you had picked up on the walk here. You lean over to pick it up and hold it out to Freddy.

He knows what you’re implying by doing so and merely shakes his head, gently pushing your hand, and thus the figurine, back in your direction. “No, keep it.”

“But you’re the one who convinced Anthony to get it for us.”

“Hey, you softened him up though,” he shoots back, and then, with a grin, he continues, “It was… a team effort.”

At this comment, you mirror his grin, lowering your arm and setting the figurine back down. “Well, we make a great team.” You don’t say anything after this, but Freddy, still surveying you closely, can tell you want to, so he calls attention to it himself. He has a sneaking suspicion he knows exactly what you want to ask.

“Did you want to flip a coin?”

Immediately you nod, a smile creeping onto your face and it’s contagious. Freddy’s smiling too and he chuckles and says Let me just find one and he rifles through his pocket for some spare change. You’d feel more comfortable if you ended up keeping the figurine after a coin toss, to keep it fair, and Freddy is willing to indulge this because even if you call it wrong and by the rules of the game, the figurine comes into his possession instead, he’ll just sneak it into your backpack before you go home.

“All right…” Having produced a quarter, he curls his hand into a loose fist, then rests it atop his thumbnail. He flicks his thumb and the coin clinks quietly, and both your gazes follow as it flies straight up, spinning over and over—heads, tails, heads, tails… “Call it.”

[holylangdon]

Bedroom Hymns (Michael Langdon x Reader)

Request: N/A

Warnings: NSFW, fem!reader, Hawthorne!Michael, very very dom!Michael, orgasm punishment but not too much, unprotected sex/coming inside, daddy/sir, praise kink, slight verbal degradation (whore/slut/bitch/etc), sex toys, choking with a dildo, restraints, very dirty talk, another classic case of me not knowing how to write the ending (which is actually garbage, I no longer have two brain cells to rub together so you just gotta take it as it is), I think that’s it??

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: okay i’m actually scared to post this bc of how outta my usual zone it is but honestly fuck it, i worked hard on this so (@ the coven, please don’t click read more, just keep scrolling)

Friday night meant date night in your own little world. Michael would sneak out from the warlock school, or sneak you in, but that was rare, and take you out for dinner and a movie of your choosing. Then, the two of you would go back to your apartment and fuck until the sun came up. Tradition.

But you were... Well, you were bored of it, for lack of a better term. Entirely bored of how domestic and regular it had become. How normal.

You found yourself wanting more as you looked down at the fork that rested between your fingers. it wasn’t that the food or the movie or the sex wasn’t good. Hell, Michael was able to blow your mind every time. He was a pro at what he was now comfortable with, what he knew would do the trick. But lately, since he’d gone to live at the Hawthorne School For Exceptional Young Men, it seemed as if he’d gotten more gentle with you.

No longer did he shove your face into the mattress to muffle your screams as he took you from behind, your ass pink and blue from the fierce smacks he’d placed there before. He didn’t make you beg for his cock anymore. he didn’t tug you around by your hair with your pretty little lips around him. He hadn’t bothered with the toys or the restraints in what felt like forever, nor did he even care to play with you in public like he once did.

Instead, Michael would start running his hands over your body in the car when the two of you got done eating. First your thigh, moving upwards to your chin to kiss you at the next red light. Oddly romantic. Then, he’d hurriedly park the car and fumble with the keys to your apartment, nervous with anticipation for what came next. As soon as he got you in the house, it would move quicker. The two of you would get tangled up in each other, a mess as you started stripping him of the white and black uniform and him steadily unzipping your dress, already starting to push the sleeves down your shoulders. He would take the lead, but barely, to move the two of you back to the bedroom, where he’d get you even more hot and bothered with more foreplay before finally fucking you. 

You pressed your thighs together at just the thought of what you wanted him to do to you, the idea going straight to your core. 

“Y/N?” He asked, a curious look on his face. Your head shot up to look at him.  “Are you alright?”

You nodded, sighing lightly. “Just ready to get home, baby.”

It was the truth. You found yourself wanting to just get back home since the middle of the movie, but you didn’t tell him that. A quizzical look crossed his face, but he didn’t say anything more/ You began humming lightly to yourself as your foot brushed against the leg of his slacks, a silent way of telling him exactly what you wanted. Luckily Michael took the hint and waived down the waitress for the check.

The silence in the car was nerve wracking as you prepared for what you were about to tell him. How would he take it? Would he be offended? Angry? Upset? Your mind raced with the negatives but it didn’t sway your decision. Michael would reach for your thigh soon enough. That’s when you’d tell him.

And soon enough, he did. His large hand came to rest on your leg, and you took a deep breath in.

“Michael, I want to tell you something.”

“Hmm?” He hummed in response, glancing over at you. The colorful Los Angeles traffic was visible in his crystal blue eyes, which somehow remained completely unworried.

“I want us to be like we used to be. Before Hawthorne.” Your words were much quieter than before, this time filled with a certain deafening anxiety.

“What do you mean?” Now he looked... Well, you couldn’t quite tell. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, but his eyes remained soft.

“You used to fuck me so hard I’d have bruises for days after. You didn’t hold back. Hell, you remember when I almost got evicted because you kept me screaming all night!” You grew more and more excited as you spoke, but he remained still. “I like when you’re soft on me, Mikey, I really do. But there’s only so much of that I can take.”

He pulled his hand away from you, placing it on the steering wheel instead. Speechless. That’s how you knew you fucked up.

When the two of you got home, he was still dead silent. You followed him upstairs to your apartment, which he unlocked with a quickness. He wore a blank, emotionless look on his face as the two of you entered into the living room.

“Michael, I’m sor-” 

“Don’t speak unless I tell you to, slut.” He demanded, interrupting you. You were taken aback by the suddenness of his words but you sure as hell weren’t against them. “Go to your room. I want you naked and on the bed when I come back.”

You eagerly obeyed him, already slipping your heels off on your way down the hall. You scrambled to find your phone in your purse, quickly putting on some random Spotify playlist to fill the empty silence in the room while you followed his orders, struggling with your zipper with your other hand. Eventually, you were able to slide the dress off, leaving it a dark blue puddle on the floor. Underneath, you wore a silky black lingerie set. His favorite. You decided to keep that on, save for your panties.

You sat on your knees on the neatly made bed, running your hands over the soft pantyhose on your legs idly for what felt like an eternity. Your mind started to wander to what he might do to you, a dull ache growing more powerful by the minute between your legs. Finally, you heard his heavy footsteps coming down the hall. You almost died a little inside when the doorknob began to turn and the door clicked open. But what really killed you was seeing the dusty black box he carried in his hands.

That’s where he kept his toys.

He laid it down on the bed as he shrugged his suit jacket off, letting it fall the the floor next to your dress. He cleared his throat lightly as he looked over your form.

“You know, I can’t say I’m surprised.” He began, now starting to unbutton his white dress shirt. “I’ve given you the great privilege that many people, men and women all over this country, desire, You, Y/N, get to have by cock inside you whenever you want it, but that still isn’t good enough for you. Is it, Y/N? My very own little whore, hm?”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry daddy.”

“Sir.” He looked up at you sharply. “You’ll call me sir tonight.”

“Sir.” You quietly repeated.

“So, what is it that you want?” He opened the box, pulling out a small vibrator that laid on top. “A fake cock? A piece of metal or plastic to make you come? Tell me. and perhaps I’ll be kind enough to let you have it.”

“No, sir. I want your cock. Nothing feels better than-”

“Oh, save the theatrics. You won’t be needing them this time, princess.” He placed the vibe back in the box, moving it off of the edge of the bed. He then pulled out a tightly wrapped bundle of black silken ties. “Lay down.”

You followed his command, laying back on the bed comfortably. He smirked as he headed towards you, already working to unravel the many ties. Michael tugged your foot slightly, neatly tying the silk around it before securing it to the footboard of the bed. He did the same for your other foot before leaning onto the bed. You remained still as his hands crept behind you, under you, to unclip your bra and slide it off of your arms. Then, he tied both hands to the headboard. You glared at him slightly with a devilish smirk, pulling on your restraints slightly.

“I was under the impression that this is what you wanted.” He asked. “Sir’s cock, a rough fuck. Restraints and toys, multiple orgasms. Is it not?” You nodded your head silently, waiting for his next move. He sighed lightly, going back over to his box. He shuffled around for a moment. just out of sight, before returning with the silver bullet. “I think I forgot something. If this moves, even just a centimeter, you will regret it. Am I understood?”

You gulped, nodding your head as the silver machine whirred to life, already shivering with arousal as he placed it carefully onto your clit. He then turned his back, heading out the door, but stopped abruptly. A sick smile crossed his lips as he looked over your almost-naked body.

“Oh, and princess... You’re free to come as many times as you’d like. In fact, I want you to come as many times as you can for me tonight. Savor it, because I might not be so nice next time.”

You let out a disgruntled moan as he left, pulling the door shut behind him, his footsteps floating farther and farther away.

Michael thought he was being sneaky with this “reward,” you were sure. He always did. He had a tendency to hide horrible punishments as beautiful rewards in the bedroom, knowing how much it annoyed you, having to follow his rules no matter how much you disliked them or didn’t quite want to. But to be completely honest? You loved it.

It didn’t take long for you to get close to your first orgasm, your legs shaking slightly as your hands clawed for something, anything to grip onto. Something to help you steady yourself, but you found no luck in that. Instead, you let out a light whine as Michael entered the room once more, a smirk on his lips as he watched you squirm, your body begging for his touch. 

He walked closer and closer to the bed, leaning over the edge. His eyes roamed over your body, his eyes curious as his hand met your foot, starting to run his thumb over the soft skin. His touch trailed up your ankle, then your shin. Just light enough for you to know he was there. Finally, your eyes fluttered shut as you came, your body tense with pleasure as you released. Various little light noises fell from your lips as you already found yourself coming down from the intense high.

“Such a pretty sight. You took that so well.” He remarked, his hand creeping up your thigh. A light pink blush was dusted over your cheeks by now from his praise, you were sure. Your legs instinctively began to close as he brushed over the sensitive flesh, which he made a little ‘tsk’ sound at, giving you a knowing look. “I’m trying to help you, Y/N.”

You nodded, relaxing once more, the pulsing sensation between your legs growing stronger now that he was in front of you. You weren’t sure if that was a figment of your imagination or simply real, but you didn’t care either way. He took in a shaky breath as his hand neared your heat, gently sliding his fingers through the wetness you’d created before removing the vibe. He laid it on the bed next to you, switched to the off position, before he settled himself between your thighs. 

With a sudden surge of boldness, he licked a plain stripe up your core, letting a sharp gasp escape you. Another one, then another, and another until his actions were so sweet and passionate that you found yourself unable to properly think, too focused on chasing your second orgasm. His fingers swirled lightly around your cunt for a moment before sliding in, a fluid motion, carefully curling inside of you to hit that sensitive spot that he knew so well. With another cry, you released over his digits, his heavenly tongue carrying you through it.

When you’d finally gathered your thoughts, you noticed he’d come to stand over you once more, his arms crossed. His icy blue eyes simply stared over you, silently. You tried to reach for him, for his arm, for any part of him. He laughed lightly, another one of those sick smiles crossing his lips. 

“Is this what you want?” His hand trailed down his bare stomach before coming to a still over his cock, squeezing the bulge lightly. He was hard, straining against the black slacks in an obvious way. “Oh, no. You won’t be having Sir’s cock inside you until you learn to appreciate it, princess. And from what I can tell, that will be a very, very long time."

He turned his back on you before you could even register what he’d said, a hazy mess. Back to the damn box he went. You heard him shuffle through the objects for a moment before the noise stopped, having found what he wanted. Slowly, he crept back into your sight. You immediately noticed the vibrantly colored cock in his hand. You sent a silent prayer up to heaven, or hell, rather, as he sat back down on the edge of the mattress, tearing open a condom. He let the foil wrapper fall to the floor without a second thought as he rolled it over the toy, focused on his singular task at hand. 

Finally, he stood up again, coming to rest just above your head. 

“Open your mouth.” 

You did as he said, parting your pink lips just enough for him to slip the toy into your perfect little mouth. He let out a pleasureful sigh as he watched you take it in, your fierce eyes struggling to stay open and on him. He pushed it deeper and deeper into you before it hit your throat, your eyes watering as he thrusted it in and out of your mouth. With a slight laugh, he let it slide down your throat, a gargled gasp barely audible from you. How sweet. 

He held it there for a moment, his other hand falling to your throat. His thumb brushed over the taut skin before he pulled away suddenly, pulling the toy and his hand from you. 

“You always seem to get what you want. Don’t you, bitch?” You nodded, a moan falling from your lips as he began to unbuckle his slacks. He let them fall to the floor, his boxer shorts following shortly after. With a low growl, he pulled the ties on both of your feet loose. You shivered as his cold fingertips trailed up your thigh, parting your legs once more to allow him access to you.  “You’re gonna take it all. Every single inch of my cock, every last drop of my cum. Am I understood?”

You nodded feverishly, mumbling a small and halfhearted “yes, sir.” Michael’s hand laced into yours as his cock pushed into you, an obscene moan falling from your lips at the sensation. He let out a shaky breath after giving you a moment to adjust, slowly beginning to move. His hand fell to your clit, rubbing gentle circles as his thrusts picked up speed. 

“Mm, your pretty little pussy is so fucking wet, princess. And it’s all for me.” He growled, through shallow breaths and rough thrusts into you. You couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge him, instead bringing your legs to wrap around his torso loosely. He laughed lightly at the weakened gesture.

Michael’s hands worked to bring you over the edge once more, and with quick success. That familiar feeling of warmth began to spread throughout you once more, your body tense and legs holding your boyfriend into you with a tightness that you didn’t even realize. 

“Princess,” He groaned, his eyes softening as he looked at you. You could feel his thrusts growing messier and quicker, so completely fucked by the way you came around him so delicately. With a few more hard thrusts into your aching heat, a sweet cry of your name fell from his lips as he found his own release, spilling deep inside you.

“You always seem to get what you want.”

[cbraxs]

Warped [Time Warp Trio Fanfiction] - Chapter 11

Joe would’ve appreciated the chance to admire the glittering deep blue surface of the water before he and his friends got dumped in like a sack of bricks.

Jolts shot through Joe’s veins; his heart went into hyperdrive. He surfaced, hacking up water and probably a lung. The roar of blood in his ears was louder than the waves. He pushed back the hair stuck to his forehead. “Fred! Izzy! Sam!”

Joe looked around for his friends, his heart sinking to the ocean floor when he didn’t see them. “No...”

He was ready to dive and find them when the surface of the river rippled, and his friends all resurfaced, gasping for breath.

Joe let out a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness you guys are alright!”

“Alright.” Fred combed his fingers through soaked curls and righted the skewed crown on his head (seriously, how did that stupid thing manage to stay on his head through the warp?). “Yup, that’s us.”

Sam coughed up a small fish; the look on his face as salty as the sea. “Where are we? Did we warp to the middle of the ocean again?”

Izzy wiped away the hair plastered to her face, green eyes scanning their surroundings in a confused haze. “We’re near Egypt.”

“Egypt?!” Sam looked around like a hyperactive squirrel searching for nuts. “Are we back in ancient Egypt?” He grabbed Joe by the collar. “Tell me this isn’t ancient Egypt!”

Joe surveyed their location, expecting to see pyramids, lush foliage, or some shirtless dudes in white skirts milling around. Instead, there was a muddy shore walled off from the sea, with sparse palm trees wedged between terracotta-roofed buildings. About a half-mile away, ships of various sizes of sailed in and out of a harbor; beside the docks was a rectangular palace atop a crescent-shaped isle.

But the most notable thing was the massive lighthouse sitting on an island, a beacon to the sea the size of the Statue of Liberty. It reminded Joe of the Chrysler building, except blockier.

“The lighthouse at Alexandria,” Sam breathed.

“Sorry, Sam,” Joe said. “Looks like Izzy’s right.”

“What’s so bad about Egypt anyway?” Fred asked.

“You can't be serious?”

Fred couldn’t look more oblivious unless he tried.

Sam’s eye twitched. “‘What’s so bad about Egypt?’ Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because the last time we warped to ancient Egypt we got framed for theft, almost executed, eaten by crocodiles, and our brains nearly sucked out our noses by the high priest Booger!”

Izzy crinkled her nose. “Ew.”

“Oh yeeeaaah,” Fred said. “Forgot about that.”

“How the heck do you forget about that?” Joe asked.

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Clearly.” Sam slammed his fist in the water in frustration. “This is perfect!”

“Relax, Sam,” Joe said, then immediately regretted it.

Sam turned his glare on him. “Relax?! We wouldn’t even be in this mess if it weren’t for your Book. Why did you even have it with you?”

“I didn’t, I swear! I left it in the box at home. Something or someone must have brought us here.”

“You think it was Anna again?” Fred asked.

Joe shook his head. “She’s on a date with Matthew.”

Izzy rubbed the goosebumps on her arms, but Joe didn’t think it was from the chilly water. “You think it was Mad Jack?”

“No. I’ve been warped by Mad Jack before and it’s a lot… rougher. We were definitely brought here by The Book.”

“Maybe it was the girls,” Sam mused.

“What girls?” Izzy asked.

Something in the distance caught Joe’s eye and saved him from having to explain what Sam meant. A boat sailed towards them, fancier and larger than the others farther back, with a crisp white sail and red hull. Its gold accents glinted blindingly in the sun.

“Later,” Joe said. “Right now, we should get out of the water before any crocodiles and hippos get hungry.”

“Good call,” Fred said.

They shouted and waved to get the attention of whoever was on the boat. Joe was afraid even if the boat noticed them it’d be too late for it to stop, but luckily, well, luck was on their side.

A dark-haired girl spotted them and shouted something he couldn’t make out. A moment later, the bow of the ship steered closer in their direction.

The girl leaned over the boat and cupped her mouth to her hands. “Hold on! The current is too strong for us to stop, but we’re dropping down a ladder for you all!”

The boat slowed as it approached them, and the four of them bobbed in the water like buoys in the aftermath of the wave the ship created. A moment later a reed ladder tumbled down and the four of them scrambled up one by one, the girl helping each of them aboard.

“Are you four alright?” She asked as she assisted Sam over the side of the ship.

The four of them were sopping wet. Their clothes clung to them as they shivered, puddles collecting under their feet. Joe was sure they looked like strays caught in the rain.

“Yeah. Totally,” Fred said. “You got any towels on this thing?”

She knitted her brows. “Tau...oles? No. I am afraid not.”

“It’s fine,” Joe said. “Thanks for saving us back there.”

“Think nothing of it,” the girl said. “How did you all end up in the middle of the Great Green?”

“Great Green?” Fred asked.

Sam leaned to him and whispered, “What ancient Egyptians called the Mediterranean.”

Joe scratched the back of his head. “Um, it’s… a long story.”

She covered her mouth and chuckled. “I do not doubt it.”

A seriously jacked man in a white linen kilt approached the five of them. He eyed Joe and his friends suspiciously then said to the girl, “Your Highness. If I may have a moment of your time...”

The two of them walked away, speaking with each other in hushed tones where Joe couldn’t hear. He was able to take in how strange the girl was. For starters, her clothes didn’t scream “ancient Egypt”. Her robe stopped at her ankles, accessorized with a violet shawl and thin gold belt. More gold was in her curly chocolate hair, fitted in a hairband. She reminded him of a Roman statue.

“Did you hear that?” Sam asked Joe as he tried, to no avail, to dry his glasses with his damp shirt.

“I can’t hear a thing they’re saying.”

“No, I meant earlier. He called her ‘Your Highness.’ Do you think she might be–”

“Green Fish!” the girl called as she strolled her way back over to them. “If you all could do me a favor and face us. I have something I need to convince Ahmose of.”

They looked at each other in confusion. Joe shrugged and turned, the others following suit. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Ahmose scrutinized them one at a time as if he was trying to place something in their faces. When he seemed satisfied he moved on to the next.

But he stopped at Izzy, eyes narrowed as he looked her over. She averted her eyes and let out a nervous chuckle.

After a moment, he turned back to the girl, apparently satisfied. “I apologize, Your Highness. It seems you are correct. The Green Fish do bear an… uncanny resemblance.”

The girls! Joe thought. He had to be talking about them.

“That’s alright, Ahmose.” the girl said. “Please tell the Helmsman to head back to Antirhodos.”

Ahmose bowed and headed off.

When he was out of sight, Joe turned to the girl. “Green Fish?”

She smiled shyly and rubbed her cheek. “I apologize. I should not make fun.” A soft chuckle. “My guests warned you’d arrive in the most, uh, ‘boneheaded fashion’ were their words.”

“Yup,” Joe muttered. “That sounds like our girls.”

The girl clasped her hand as the boat made its way around the lighthouse. “It is a good thing you arrived when you did. You’re just in time for the celebration.”

Fred’s eyes lit up. “A party? You know I’m there.”

“Excellent. However, I will need to provide you all with more appropriate garments since the four of you are... thoroughly drenched.”

Joe was about to decline until he saw Izzy wring a cup of water from her pigtails. “Thank you.”

“So I know it was a ‘no’ on towels,” Fred said, shaking water off his stupid crown. “But what about napkins? I’ll even take tissues.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re still wearing that thing?”

“I spent six bucks in quarters to get enough tickets to win this thing. Of course I’m still wearing it.”

Sam shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Is there a mirror on board so I can show King Fred how ridiculous he looks?” Joe asked the girl, half-jokingly.

She gasped. He didn’t think his joke was that bad.

“King Fred?” she said. “I know that name. Are you, by chance, a descendant of King Fred of Flatbush?”

Sam facepalmed. “You cannot be serious...”

“Please don’t...” Joe begged, but Fred’s ego was already inflated. He placed the crown back on his head and smirked. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

The girl bowed. “Forgive me. I had no idea I was in the presence of someone so important.”

Joe didn’t know who snorted louder, him or Sam.

“Nearly a millennium and a half country of Fred dynastic rule,” she said, clearly impressed. “Truly incredible.”

Sam turned to Joe. “Do me a favor? Go ahead and toss me back in the ocean.”

“I’ve always wanted to know more about the nation of Flatbush.” The girl hugged his arm, which Fred was enjoying. “The library carried very little information on your country. Tell me, what language do you speak?”

“Uh, we speak English.”

She furrowed her brow trying to sound out the word. “Aang-glitch? I haven’t heard of Aang-glitch before and I speak multiple languages. I’ll have to study it.”

Izzy frowned. Sam leaned over and whispered. “Auto translator,” and she nodded. “Ooooooooh.”

“She might want to wait a couple hundred years,” Joe muttered, eliciting laughs from the other two.

“I am very sorry!” The girl exclaimed and faced Joe, Sam, and Izzy. “I never did ask for your names.”

Before Joe could introduce himself, Fred said, “This is Sam, our resident Geek and that,” he waved his hand at Joe, “is our After-Dinner-Entertainment, Joe. And Izzy here is our, uh, erm...”

“She’s a priestess!” Joe blurted. He wasn’t sure where he got that idea from but it sounded good. “Isadora is here to keep King Fred out of trouble.”

Joe ignored the look Fred shot him as the girl nodded. “I see. A priestess of Isis.”

Joe shifted on his feet.“Um, why Isis specifically?”

“My name means ‘gift of Isis,’" Izzy whispered.

Huh. Made more sense than what Joe first thought...

“I’m impressed,” Sam said. “Thutmose ruled over a thousand years ago, and I can’t imagine King Fred would be more than a footnote of a footnote–”

“Hey!” Fred protested.

“–of a footnote. You really must’ve done your research.”

She stood taller, pride in her smile. “Why, thank you, Geek. If I am to rule Egypt alongside my father, I should know her language, her customs, her history.”

“You’re a princess?” Joe asked.

“Of course. I am Cleopatra the Seventh, daughter of Ptolemy the Twelfth Auletes, Pharaoh of Egypt.”

~*~

Cleopatra…

Whenever Joe thought of her, he envisioned a powerful, drop-dead gorgeous woman effortlessly wrapping powerful men around her finger. A woman so unarguably beautiful and charismatic it caused war between nations. He never pictured her as a girl no older than fourteen or fifteen. A girl who looked so normal.

The ship docked at the harbor of the crescent-shaped island next to some smaller similar vessels. Most were vacant, but a few had workers loading and unloading cargo.

They followed Cleopatra off the boat and into a palace lined with columns, reminding him of the fancy banks he’s seen on Wall Street. The sparse amounts of red and blue paint contrasted well with the stark white of the rest of the palace.

The inside was even more stunning. The marble floors were so smooth and gleamy they reflected the colors of the vibrant mosaics that lined every inch of the walls and ceiling.  The air was fresh and scented like roses.

Joe expected there to be more servants in a big palace. The few he did see shot daggers their way when they noticed the four damp teens tracking water on the clean floors.

Cleopatra instructed a servant to gather some new clothes for them as she led them through a maze of halls to a guest room.

“Room” was an understatement. It was the size of four of Joe’s room put together. A bed sat in every corner of the room with a large window overlooking the sparkling bay and the rest of Alexandria.

Fred whistled. “Nice digs you got here.”

“No kidding,” Sam mumbled, eyes drinking in every detail.

Cleopatra beamed. “I’m glad the room is to your liking.”

The servant from before returned and handed them each a fresh set of clothes.

“I’ll let my company know you’ve all arrived.” She grabbed Izzy by the hand and led her out of the room. “Follow me, priestess. I’ll escort you to a more private chamber to change.”

Izzy’s cheeks turned pink. “Yeah, I’d appreciate that…”

Once they left, the boys each picked a corner to change in; the room was spacious enough for each of them to get enough privacy. Joe inspected his new clothes. He got a light red tunic with a brown shawl and sandals. He tried to remember how to wear a chiton. In eighth grade English, their class had an entire unit where they got to study ancient Greek myths and had a dress-up day where their teacher, Mrs. Brown, taught them how to put one on. After fumbling around for a moment he was able to get it right.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Joe said, “but what’s with all the Greek stuff?”

He faced his friends. Sam wore an outfit similar to him, except it was pale and orange instead of red and brown. Fred’s was more elaborate. His chiton was purple striped with gold designs along the hem.

“The Ptolemaic dynasty was Macedonian Greek,” Sam explained. “They ruled Egypt but didn’t really adopt many of their customs. In fact, Cleopatra was the only one in her family who learn to speak Egyptian.”

“Greek, eh?” Fred said, placing his dumb crown over his hat. “Explains why Cleo’s so… pale?”

“Someone should’ve told the Greeks about pants,” Joe said adjusting his clothes.

“I kind of like the extra breathing room,” Sam said.

Joe and Fred just looked at him.

Sam frowned. “What?”

Before they could retort there was a barrage of footsteps in the hall, heading towards their room. Jodie, Samantha, and Freddi barged in. Like them, the girls wore chitons, maroon, yellow, and blue respectively.

“Finally!” Freddi cried. “You guys made it.”

Samantha chuckled and covered her mouth. “We heard you almost drowned in the Great Harbor.”

“What took you so long?” Jodie put her hands on her hip and looked at them like she was impatiently waiting for an explanation.

Joe’s eyes twitched. “Took us so– finally– so it was you guys that brought us here! Wanna explain why?”

“We wouldn’t have needed to warp you guys here if you three didn’t do something stupid with The Book!”

Fred rolled eyes. “How come every time The Book messes up you assume it’s us?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because every time The Book messes up it’s your fault?”

“Also,” Freddi said, pulling The Book from the satchel at Jodie’s side. “It glitches out in your timeline.”

She flipped it open to a flickering green page. The words and letters glitched and flipping all over the page making it completely unreadable. Images bugged and morphed together, creating bizarro collages of people and places. “We haven’t been able to get it to work for a few days.”

Fred shrunk back. “Oh.”

“Whatever happened made it impossible for us to warp back home,” Samantha explained. “I was able to bring you guys here so we could ask you what you did so we can try and fix it, but that’s all we’ve been able to do.”

“Ancient Egypt…” Sam muttered, fingers running through his already unruly hair. “Why does it always break in ancient Egypt?”

“Two times isn’t exactly a trend,” Joe said. “But I think I know what went wrong. Our friend–”

Izzy walked in and Joe lost his train of thought. Her long chiton was the color of her eyes, with a white hem and a golden broach that completed her get up. He’d never seen her hair out of her trademark pigtails before. Instead it was in a messy braid draped over her shoulder.

Izzy froze when she noticed the girls in the room, then smiled shyly. “Hello.”

“Girls, this is Izzy,” Joe said, motioning between them. “Izzy, these are–”

“Can you excuse us a moment?” Jodie said, her mouth forming a tight smile. Before Izzy could respond, the girls pushed them out of the room and down the hall.

“What on earth is she doing here?!” Jodie demanded through gritted teeth.

Joe held his hands up defensively. “Relax, Jodie. Izzy is a friend of ours. This isn't even the first time she's warped with us–”

“Hold on. You two are hanging out now? And she’s warped before? Where did you guys even meet?”

“At school during history class.” Joe shook his head. “What does that matter? Look, Iz is trustworthy. She hasn’t told anyone about time travel or The Book. You can trust her.”

The girls looked at each other and a silent conversation passed between them Joe couldn’t catch.

Jodie sighed dramatically. “Maybe you’re right. We’re overreacting.”

“Pfft, yeah,” Samantha said, forcing the fakest laugh. “It's no big deal.”

“Uh, guys?” Freddi whispered. “This is kinda a huge d–”

Jodie shot her a look and Freddi swallowed the rest of her sentence. “Right. Sorry. No big deal. Not at all!”

Joe looked at his friends and they had their own silent conversation. Something was definitely up.

“Just don’t go bringing anyone else on a warp, okay?” Jodie said.

“We’re not that dumb,” Fred said.

“That’s debatable.” She put the book back in her bag and ushered them to follow. “Come on, let’s get back to the room. We don't want to be rude to your… friend.”

“What about The Book?” Sam asked. “You said it was broken? How are we supposed to get back home?!”

“Relax, Gramps.” Samantha slung an arm around Sam’s shoulder and steered him back to the room. “We’ll deal with The Book later. Cleopatra wanted us to meet up before the party tonight!”

Eventually, with enough convincing, Sam conceded. Joe was cool with staying, and he knew Fred was more than cool with it. So often on warps, something or someone was trying to kill them; being treated like honored guests, getting new clothes, and being invited to a royal party was a nice change of pace. Jodie had The Book on her and as long as she didn’t lose it they could find a way to fix it and get home no problem.

Back in the room, Izzy leaned against the wall, a dark cloud across her face. She noticed them enter the room and perked up. “Hello again. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Joe said. “Girls, this is Izzy. Izzy, girls.”

“Nice to meet you, girls.”

Jodie scoffed. “We have actual names.”

“Sorry. I know. I mean I know you have names but I don’t know your names, I didn’t mean to… can you go outside and walk through the door again?”

“Ignore her,” Samantha brush past Jodie to shake Izzy’s hand. “Jodie’s just cranky. I’m Samantha, and she’s Freddi.”

Izzy’s eyes lit up. “Oooh. So you’re Jodie! Nice to finally meet you.”

“You’ve heard of me?” Jodie looked surprised but quickly recovered her standoffish demeanor and crossed her arms. “Were they talking about me behind my back.”

“No. Well, yes. But not in a bad way!”

Joe laughed. “Anyway, the girls are our–”

“Cousins!” Jodie blurted, “We're their cousins.”

Before Joe could correct her, Cleopatra walked in the room and fixed them all with a bright smile. “You are all together. Wonderful. Are you ready to leave?”

Fred winked. “You know it, Cleo.”

“Excellent!” She laced her arm around Fred’s. “This way, King Fred.”

The girls looked confused at the exchanged, with Jodie being the most disgusted. “What just happened?”

“It’s better if you ignore it,” Joe said, following Cleopatra and the crowned Duke of Dorks. “C’mon.”

~*~

Usually on a warp, they didn’t get to travel in style. When they weren’t walking (mostly running, they did a lot of running) they got plenty of rides on warships, livestock wagons, and even a tumbrel during a rough trip in revolutionary France. A ride on a horse-drawn carriage as civilians cheers you on was a rarity, to say the least.

They all climbed in, the guys plus Ahmos on one side, and Izzy the girls with Cleopatra on the other. Ahmos had his arms crossed and his eyes on all of them like they were going to snap and kidnap her any second now. Cleopatra and the girls talked as the rest of them gawked through the window at the people and buildings they passed.

“This is so cool!” Izzy beamed like a kid at the top of a Ferris wheel. “How come we don’t do this more often?”

Because more often than not, someone wants us dead, Joe thought, though he didn’t have the heart to kill her buzz.

Cleopatra smiled. “I’m glad you are enjoying the city.”

“Way nicer than the last two times.”

Jodie shot a dubious look Izzy’s way. “What happened the last two times?”

Izzy blushed. “I ran into some unpleasantness with someone… unpleasant. It was nothing big.”

Jodie didn’t look satisfied with that answer.

Cleopatra put a hand over her heart. “I’m sorry to hear that. I promise you nothing like that will happen on this trip.”

Sam knocked on the wooden side of the carriage.

“So where’s your Needle?” Fred asked Cleopatra.

She frowned. “Pardon?”

“You know, that big pointy thing, looks like the Washington Monument.”

Sam leaned over to Fred as Izzy distracted Cleopatra from his hair-brained question. “Actually Fred–”

Fred facepalmed. “Please don’t–”

“Cleopatra’s Needle is three different obelisks; one in Paris, one in London, and–”

“There one in New York,” Joe said. “You know? Where we live.”

“I know that,” Fred snapped. “I’ve been to Central Park. But it was here originally, right?”

“The original Obelisks were in Heliopolis,” Samantha explained. “Well, the London and New York ones were, the one in Paris used to be at the entrance of Luxor’s Temple.”

“It’s funny,” Freddi said. “I almost forgot there used to be a needle in New York.”

“Freddi!” Jodie hissed, a nervous glance shot Izzy’s way.

Freddi slapped her hands over her mouth. “Sorry! I meant... York! In England. There’s no needle there, no siree. Nope”

Jodie sighed and palmed her face.

Okay, Joe needed to ask what the heck happened to the needle in New York in the future, but he didn’t want to draw Izzy’s attention to Freddi’s slip up. Jodie wanted Izzy to believe they were cousins for a reason. He trusted her judgment, even though he didn’t see the big deal in Izzy knowing the girls are their great-granddaughters. Izzy’s seen enough weird stuff to take any news in stride.

“I wish I could show you all more of Egypt today,” Cleopatra lamented. “I recently returned, and I wanted to show you all one of my favorite places: the Library of Alexandria.”

“You wanted to take us to some library?” Fred asked in disbelief.

“Not just any library, King Fred. The Library of Alexandria: the largest collection of knowledge in the entire world. Anything you could possibly want to know is there.”

“Oh, wow. Bummer.” Fred noticed Cleopatra’s sullen look and cleared his throat. “I mean, there’s always next time. It’s not like the Library is going anywhere.”

Cleopatra smiled at him. The girls and Sam exchanged looks.

“Who wants to be the one to tell him?” Samantha asked.

~*~

The Ptolemies knew how to throw a party. People in greek robes and Ancient Egyptian clothes filled the room, mingling and laughing and eating delicious smelling food. The alluring scent of meats, veggies, and fruit drifted through the air as soft music soundtracked the evening.

Like the rest of the party, Joe and the others laid on personal beds with tables in front of them. Cleopatra set the seven of them up in their own section, making sure to sit Izzy next to Fred. “It’s proper for a priestess to sit by her king.” Afterwards, Cleopatra had to join her family but promised to check in on them later in the evening.

Servants came by, making sure to serve Fred and Izzy first. Their plates were filled with bread, cheese, fish, roasted duck, dried fruits, and boiled vegetables. Joe, Sam, and Fred wasted no time chowing down. The girls (namely Jodie) shot them disgusted looks, but it wasn’t their fault the last meal they had was two thousand years ago.

“Sooo, you’re the priestess?” Freddi asked Izzy.

“The same way Fred’s a king,” Jodie muttered under her breath.

Izzy scratched her cheek, embarrassed. “That’s the story. But I honestly doubt I’m actually worthy to be a priestess.”

“Yeah, right,” Fred flashed a grin at Izzy. And nudged her shoulder. “I don’t know anyone more priestess-y than this one.”

“There’s a list of forty-two sins you have to swear you’ve never done in order to be a priest and I feel like I’ve done at least six of them…”

Joe smirked. “Is one ‘Thou shalt not swipe candy bars from vending machines’?’”

Izzy’s cheeks flushed as she mumbled for him to hush. Everyone chuckled and they spent dinner talking and laughing. It’s been too long since they’ve seen each other and it was nice to catch up. The girls got along well with Izzy; she was shy and a little awkward like Freddi and liked nerding out with Samantha over historical facts.

Well, all but one of them got along with her. Jodie didn’t engage with her and jumped to another conversation went Izzy joined in. Joe tried not to read into it, Jodie and Fred used to argue all the time and Joe thought they hated each other, but that was just their version of friendly banter. Their Ice Queen just has to warm up to her.

Freddi was finishing the story of the last time the girls had been to Ancient Egypt when Izzy asked, “So how do you guys time travel?”

“We use this beauty.” Samantha pulled out her golden pocket watch and dangled it from the chain.

Izzy ooohed and ahhed. “How does it work?”

“Occasionally. I modified this one from a normal pocket watch without the use of magic. But most time machines work via magic or a combination of magic and technology–”

“Samantha,” Jodie chastised. “Don’t bore Isadora.”

“She’s not,” Izzy said.

“Trust me. You’re bored.”

Izzy twisted an earring, suddenly very interested in her plate.

“What’s your problem?” Fred asked.

Jodie blinked innocently. “What makes you think I have a problem?”

Fred was about to retort when his attention was pulled away by Cleopatra, who smiled and winked at him from across the room. He waved back like a lovestruck dope.

Jodie rolled her eyes. “Could you not drool all over Cleopatra at the dinner table. We’re trying to eat.”

Fred waggled his eyebrows and put his cup to his lips. “Why? You jealous?”

“Uh, Fred,” Sam said. “I wouldn’t–”

But he was too late. Fred’s face contorted in disgust and he gagged, coughing so loud he drew in looks from people at other tables.

“Ug!” Fred wiped his mouth with the back of his fist. “It’s wine? I thought it was grape juice.”

Freddi laughed and handed him a cloth napkin. “You’re not entirely wrong.”

“Not that this party isn’t great,” Joe said, “but what are we supposed to be celebrating?”

“We’re commemorating Ptolemy’s return to Egypt and overthrowing of Berenice, Cleopatra’s older sister.”

Izzy’s knife splattered on the floor with a loud KLAK! Her lip curled, like she had a stomach ache. “Oh...”

“You okay, Iz?” Joe asked.

“Y-yeah. Sorry… I should’ve figured it out. After the Pharaoh returned from Rome, he had his daughter… executed.”

The warm and lively atmosphere was suddenly cold and stale. Sam pushed his plate away as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite. “She’s right. When Berenice took over, Ptolemy took Cleopatra and fled to Rome to get help retaking the throne. Remember how she said she missed Egypt earlier? I don’t know how I didn’t realize earlier.”

“Why are you guys hanging around this?” Fred asked.

Jodie huffed. “We would’ve left by now if you dorkbots didn’t wreck–” A nervous glance at Izzy. “I mean, we were supposed to be gone already.”

“That’s how the Ptolemies were,” Samantha explained. “They got rid of whoever was in the way of the throne. Berenice herself had her mother poisoned and her husband strangled.”

“That’s… messed up,” Joe said. “But at least Cleopatra was better, right?”

The look on his friends’ faces told him otherwise.

“We can’t judge too harshly,” Freddi said, breaking the solemn silence. “We’re in the first century, B.C. The people here have a whole different set of morals than us. And if you grow up in a family like that, well...”

“Enjoying the party?”

Cleopatra approached them and looked them over, gracing them with that charming smile of hers.

“Great party Cleo,” Fred said. “Even if the reason behind it was horribly gruesome.”

She giggled. “I’m glad all is to your liking, my Majesty.”

Fred’s ego grew three times its size. Samantha leaned over to Jodie and asked, “Why is she still hitting on him?”

A glance Izzy’s way. “Better than the alternative.”

Izzy spun her earring. “Not to challenge the Pharaoh's decisions, but is… you know, really the way to deal with this? Can’t Berenice get probation or house arrest?”

Cleopatra frowned at Izzy, her bright eyes now dark and unreadable. “Thank you for your concern, priestess, but we must do what is befitting of her crimes. When I rule with my father, we’ll have to undo all the damage Berenice did. And what my family has done to Egypt for years...”

She shook her head and clasped her hands. “But enough of that! I am very interested in seeing the After-Dinner-Entertainment.”

Joe jumped at being suddenly called out. Everyone was staring at him expectantly. He momentarily felt nervous under their gazes but them he steeled his nerves. Joe was never one to disappoint (despite what his friends said about his tricks). An important rule of show business: never let them see you sweat.  

He stood tall and cleared his throat. “Certainly, your Highness. Ladies! Gentlemen! False Kings. I, Joe the Magnificent, am proud to present to you this display of my incredible powers! For this trick, I will need a piece of paper.”

The others patted themselves down and came up empty, except for Sam, who pulled something from his robe and hands it to Joe. “I have a dollar.”

“That’ll do.” Joe smoothed out the dollar and ripped it in half.

“Hey!” Sam protested.

Izzy frowned. “Wait, that’s illegal.”

Joe winked at her and ripped the dollar in half again. “Just watch.”

He grabbed the nearest candle and paused for a dramatic flair– really though, he was trying to remember how to do this without singeing his fingers. Again. He would swipe his mom’s candles and practice this in his room at night, getting it right only once. So many sacrificed dollars… His stomached churned at the thought of failing in front of expectant royalty and his skeptical friends.

Joe caught Izzy eyes for a second, alight with excitement. Her smile made him forget his previous doubts, and he took a deep breath.

He burned the corners of the destroyed dollar, the edges turning a sooty black. He ignored Sam’s whines as he flicked the flames and ashes away and rubbed the burned pieces with his fingers. Once the smoke was gone, Joe pinched the corner of the dollar and shook it open, the bill intact once more. He brushed off the soot and pulled it taut as proof of his trick, a big grin spreading across his face.

“Ta-da!”

Jaws dropped and eyes bulged. Izzy was the first to clap and the others followed suit. Even people from other tables (who Joe didn’t notice) applauded him. He couldn’t help but puff his chest in pride.

“Thank you, thank you,” Joe said. “I’ll be here all night, make sure to tip your waitresses.”

There were some snorts and eye rolls mixed in with the laughter.

“Astounding,” Cleopatra breathed. She took the dollar from him and stared at it in wonder. “I wish to study this further.”

Sam stared wistfully at his dollar. “But that’s my…”

Joe put his hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get you another one when we get back.”

A grumbled, “If we get back...”

A deep voice cut through the atmosphere. “A mighty fine show, After-Dinner-Entertainment.”

A tall man wearing a golden headdress with robes to match stalked over to them. Gold rings and necklace fitted with red and blue stones adorned his hands and neck. He exuded an aura, not necessarily powerful and commanding, but something like, “I’m the one in charge here. Don’t like it? Tough.”

The Pharaoh’s smile didn’t tough his eyes. “A truly impressive act from our foreign friends.”

“Uh, thanks,” Joe said.

The Pharaoh nodded and turned his attention back to his daughter, his stone-cold look softening greatly. “Are you enjoying your time with your guests, louloúdi mou?”

“Very much, father.”

“Thank you once again, Pharaoh, for inviting us and our friends to this party,” Jodie said in that saccharine tone when she was trying to impress others.

Another nod. Joe got the impression the Pharaoh wasn’t all that thrilled to have them there. They’d (read: Fred) have to be extra careful to be on their best behavior.

Just then, one of the guards hurried over to them, sweating like he’d lost something deadly important. It was Ahmose, Cleopatra’s guard from earlier.

“My Pharaoh,” he huffed. “I have some terrible news–”

“Can’t it wait until after the celebration,” the Pharaoh said with a barely held back sigh.

“I’m afraid not. It’s about Berenice. She escaped captivity.”