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queenimmadolla · 2 years ago

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CRUEL SUMMER - '85, PII

summary: . . . the year Eddie Munson doesn’t give a fuck about not having graduated when he’s gotta save the girl so he can get the girl. (in which Eddie is in ST3 and reader is basically Heather Holloway) ┊ Eddie Munson x Flayed!Reader┊ Main Masterlist - Series Masterlist - PI - PIII

chapter summary: . . . when you didn’t show up to meet him at your spot after your shift at Hawkins’ Community Pool, Eddie takes your sudden disappearance into his own hands and discovers he’s not the only one in town who has.

chapter warning: pining, billy hargrove, ‘unrequited’ love, angst, fluff, insecurity, jealousy, mind control I guess, and Eddie trying not to get arrested

Eddie wasn't in the best of moods.

When you hadn’t shown, he had thought maybe you were still mad at him for having to cancel the previous day, but when he’d went by your place, he hadn’t seen your bike leaning up against the side of your house. Nor had you been in your room when he scaled your roof to get to your bedroom window.

If he hadn’t gotten arrested last week, he would have camped out in his van in front of your house. But seeing as how he’d manage to. . . step away from the situation before he’d actually been booked, he couldn’t risk someone reporting a creepy van just parked on your street.

He’d tried calling, but caught your mother just as they were preparing to go out of town to visit a relative and she had told him you called from a friend’s house to let her know you’d be spending the night, and that drove him even crazier. You’d ditched him to hang out with someone else? He’d definitely fucked up. Why couldn’t you just talk to him? Yell at him? Why’d you have to go and make him feel ten times guiltier? And who the fuck was this friend? You hadn’t told him about anyone else you hung out with, hadn’t even mentioned any names other than those of your co-workers, but you weren’t friends with any of them.

Fuck, he had to find you. You could be mad at him in person, that’d be fine, because then you’d be mad at boyfriend Eddie. Not friend Eddie.

To become your boyfriend, Eddie first had to tell you how he felt, and you were making it plenty difficult to do so. He mused it was karma for having waited so long to acknowledge his feelings for you in the first place while you were nothing but patient, kind, goofy, and seemingly ready to wait for him forever.

Yeah, this had to be karma.

He could’t even sleep, having tossed and turned all night.

Something didn’t feel right about any of this and the sooner he saw your pretty face, the better.

Instead of driving past your house again, Eddie made his way to the community pool. You’d mentioned earlier on in the week you’d probably be covering for Heather Holloway today, and you couldn’t ignore him on the job. Well, you could, but Eddie wasn’t above pretending to drown to get your attention. In fact, he was pretty sure you’d find a public declaration of his love pretty endearing, too romantic to whack him with a floaty. He ran a hand through his drenched hair—courtesy of a little summer rain—as he approached the open counter. Joey Mitchell, Hawkins graduate of ’83 and overall jerk, and Zoe Reynolds looked to be doing anything but their jobs. He’d asked them if they’d seen you and got absolutely nowhere with them. “She flaked, man. Why don’t you do the same?” Joey didn’t even bother glancing up at him as he flipped through whatever the fuck he was reading. Zoe was doing her best to look attractive while she drank a soda, her gaze openly trailing over Eddie.He did his best to keep from rolling his eyes. He and Zoe had hooked up one day after he’d stopped by to pay you a visit, but she proved to be another girl who wanted him in private—not public. He hadn’t really wanted her either way, but he was a man with an itch he had to scratch.

“Thanks for being absolutely fucking useless, Joey. Glad to see you haven’t changed.” Joey flipped him off and Zoe laughed as he stepped aside, leaning against the building beside a vending machine while he pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Alright. So, you weren’t at home and you weren’t at work, so you must have still been with that friend you told your mom about. Who the fuck was that? Eddie was so lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed the two girls approach the counter he had previously been occupying, he was only pulled from his head when he heard Joey say your name. “I’ll get it back to her.” He managed to hear Joey say as Eddie shifted closer to eavesdrop. “We could give it back to her.” The girl with the short hair had something in her hand. Eddie recognized it as the lifeguard fanny pack you carried around. What was she doing with it? “You could. ‘Cept she’s not here. Bailed on me today.” When they didn’t leave fast enough for his liking, Joey added, “What is this? You girls want a reward or something?” Definitely still an asshole. Eddie was about to step in, but the redhead had it covered. “Nope. We’re just good samaritans.”

The one with the short hair approached the community board and he could see her staring intensely at a photo of you coming out of the pool. It was a photo he, too, stared at when he dropped by. “Hey—where’d you get that?” Eddie pushed himself off the wall, revealing his hiding place as he stared down at your fanny pack in her hand.

She glanced down at it then back at him, eyebrows pinched together. “I found it. Billy—’’ “—is off today. Billy is off today.” The redhead interrupted as she made her way to the other girl’s side. Eddie squinted down at them, tongue pressing against his cheek. The redhead looked familiar.

“You’re Hargrove’s little sister, right?” Red didn’t seem super excited with the title. “What’s it to you?” “You’ve got my best friend’s property in your possession. And unlike our little concierge over there,” Eddie gestured to where the counter was. “I care. A lot. Start talking.” The girls exchanged a look that Eddie knew meant he wasn’t going to get the whole story. “She, uh, left it at my house. Must have forgot it.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up so far they almost got caught in his hairline, shock nearly stopping his heart. “I see. And what was she doing at your house?” Red crossed her arms, looking entirely unimpressed with being questioned. “She and Billy must have been hanging out or something after work.” Eddie didn’t like that ‘or something’. He actually didn’t like any of it. “Pack. Now, please.” The timid looking one reluctantly handed the object to him, hushing Red’s protests. “Thanks.” Eddie stormed out of the entrance turning to look over his shoulder just in time to see them yank your photo from its place. He placed your pack on his passenger seat as soon as he got back in the van, absolutely fuming. He was trying to keep it together, but this was all wrong. Everything was wrong. Eddie needed a distraction. The van roared to life before he pulled out onto the road, ready to drive around for a couple of hours until he had his head together. You were supposed to meet him yesterday, you hadn’t. Your mom had told him you slept over at a friend’s house, and now Eddie was hearing you’d been with Billy Hargrove. Billy fucking Hargrove. He knew the history between you two. Eddie hadn’t known you all that well then, back when Billy first moved to Hawkins the previous Fall. That’s when it all started between you and Eddie. The grounds for your whole friendship. You couldn’t believe it. The hot, new guy in school was interested in you. He’d made quite the impression on everyone his first few weeks, girls were infatuated and boys wanted to be him. He’d even dethroned Steve, who was now just Steve instead of King Steve. You hadn’t had a whole lot of run-ins with Steve Harrington, but the few times you had, he treated you just like your whole ‘friend’ group did. So it had pleased you to know he’d been knocked from that high shelf he sat himself on.

Then the man who’d done it approached you after school to ask if you wanted to go to the game with him. You hated most sports, but you couldn’t miss out on that opportunity. It had been freezing, he had even offered you his jacket, and everyone treated you so much nicer that night. Then he’d driven you home, kissed you goodnight on your porch and sent you on your way. That was how he’d ensnared you in his web, from then on he’d just lead you on. Occasionally taking you out but usually cancelling extremely last minute—which made Eddie feel worse to think about since he’d done the same just the other day—he also made numerous attempts to gaslight you. You could see through it all of course, but you went along with it anyways. Because that’s how high school went for you. It was right after a pep rally, you’d scrubbed yourself raw to remove any sweat—technically, and boy was it a technicality because your mom was the cheer coach and she’d be embarrassed if her daughter wasn’t on the team, you were part of the cheer squad but seeing as how you were on the bottom of the totem pole, you were often forced into the school mascot costume—and done your makeup exceptionally well so you looked beautiful when you approached Billy and his friends by his locker to confirm your plans for the night. “Hey, Billy!” Your arms tightened around the binder you held just under the bust of your chest. Billy was a boobs type of guy, so anything you did to draw attention to them or enhance them guaranteed you a little bit of his attention. Pathetic, but seeing as how there were plenty of other girls you knew he was also quietly taking out with bra sizes larger than yours, it’s what you had to do. “Are we still good for tonight? Dinner and a movie?” Billy made an obviously fake wince, sucking in some air.

“Sorry, babe, I totally forgot Richy’s throwing a party tonight. Can’t leave my best man hanging, right?”

You knew he was talking to you, but his statement seemed to be directed to his friends. Richy, the gangly boy who had once asked you if you wanted to give him a handjob on the bus, freshman year—completely out of the blue and you had said no—highfived Billy.

“Yeah, no that’s totally fine. You should have fun with your friends.” You shrugged, as if you weren’t going to verbally abuse them all and yourself in your head in just a few minutes.

“Knew you’d understand.” Billy pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, stroking just under it before he and his friends headed towards the doors leading to the parking lot despite the classes they still had.

You made your way to your locker, unfortunately somewhat close to Billy’s, making fun of yourself the whole time as you muttered, “Hey, Billy! Ready to blow me off again? Yeah, not a problem. Saw it coming. Do you want to ask me on a makeup date so you can do it again, or are you bored of wasting my time yet?”

You quickly entered the combination of your lock, aggressively shaking it when it refused to budge the first couple of times and threw your binder in.

Just as you were about to reach into your backpack, Beverly Winston and the rest of your clique came around the corner, actually stopping to greet you instead of waiting for you to chase after them.

“You coming to Richy’s party with Billy tonight?” The girls behind her giggled and you recognized they were aware of something you didn’t know.

“He told me about it.” Is all you could say, because you knew Billy had actively avoided inviting you. Which made sense, other than that brief kiss on your porch last month, he hadn’t been all that affectionate with you. Not in public, at least.

Beverly smirked, glancing behind her to exchange looks with the other girls. “See you around.”

They didn’t wait for your reply before they abruptly left, and you found yourself shouting out, “Maybe I’ll go and meet you guys there…?”

They didn’t acknowledge it, actually you thought they started walking faster.

“So you guys can just spend the whole party trying to lose me in crowds.” You sighed, feeling frustrated and fed up with the whole situation. “Bunch of fucking—"

You inhaled sharply as you slammed your locker door shut only to see Eddie Munson leaning up against his, four lockers down from you.

“Oh, shit. You scared me, Eddie.”

“I have that affect on people.” He shrugged, eyes roaming over the students filling the hall. It looked like he was searching for someone.

“Yeah, well, not in that way. I’m not afraid of you.” You were, however, afraid of being late to Click’s class. God, that lady was a nightmare. “Bye, Eddie.”

You had just managed to walk past him when he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“You know he’s fucking around with you, right?”

You flushed with embarrassment, trying not to let your posture fall.

“Who’d you see him with?”

“Kathy Cosgrove.”

Fuck. She definitely had a bigger bra size. “That bitch.” No wonder she looked extra smug when she’d bumped into you at the rally. Eddie snorted, pulling his arm back to cross them over his chest as he leaned back into the locker. “What did you expect? Did you think Hargrove actually liked you?”

Well, that definitely hurt your feelings. It was probably obvious to Eddie, too, because his eyes immediately softened and his posture relaxed. “Shit, I didn’t mean it like that.” “No, it’s okay. I get it. They’re running in fast times, and I’m not as fast, I guess.” You blinked a couple of times, frowning as you willed the wetness on your waterline away by sheer force. You were not about to cry during school hours. Crying was reserved for after school hours, only. “It’s not like I haven’t noticed that.” “Then why do you try to keep up?” His question seemed entirely curious, and you licked your lower lip, pulling it between your teeth as you thought of an answer. “I dunno.” Except you did. “Wait, no I’m lying. I know you hate conformity, forced conformity, whatever, but look at them.” You both looked over the sea of high school students, the hall all a buzz with chatter. “They all look so happy. Sure, not all of them are actually happy below the surface, but the ones that are. . . I’m jealous of them. They come to school feeling accepted. They fit in, they have friends who like them, they go to class, hang out with those friends at lunch, then they leave school; still feeling accepted. And they get to hang out with their friends afterwards, and have a good time being young, stupid teenagers. I don’t know. I guess I just want to be one.”

You liked to imagine yourself at a lunch table filled with laughter and faceless friends, everyone at the table is having a good time, they’re joking with each other—you included—talking about the latest thing that happened in the group. You’d be sat in a chair, or maybe on someone special’s lap, an arm slipped around broad shoulders; happy amongst friends. But no. You didn’t have that.

You sat on the outskirts of the table, always trying to chime in but never heard. “They’re all ignorant, Sunshine.” Eddie dismissed, though he was eyeing you carefully. “Ignorance is bliss.” You spotted Kathy coming out of the girls restroom with her friends, her head thrown back in laughter. “At this point, I’d kill for some bliss.” “I don’t know about murder, but I think I might have a temporary solution for your problem.” That’s how you ended up smoking with Eddie in his van. He’d been on a bit of a tolerance break, so the joint even had him giggly. “She didn’t want me smoking too much, didn’t want her friends or family to smell it on her.” Since Eddie was aware of your terrible love life, you deemed it only fair that he tell you about his, so he’d told you about the latest girl to catch his fancy. Only, he’d been playing coy about telling you her name.

“Who, Eddie, who? C’mon you already know I’m letting Billy drag me around. It can’t get any more pathetic than that.”

“Chrissy.” He blurted out and you gasped. You weren’t expecting her. “Chrissy Cunningham??” Your mind trailed through every interaction you’d ever had with her. She was a sweet girl. She’d been a little mean freshman year, but it must have been something she grew out of because Chrissy had been an absolute doll since, not a mean or rude bone in her body. “As in, recently started dating Jason Carver, Chrissy Cunningham?” His eyes squeezed shut, fingers reaching up to rub his lids. “That’s the one. It ended like three weeks ago, we weren’t public or anything but we were . . . I thought we were something. Until, well, yeah.” Until Jason finally put an end to his and Chrissy’s will they-wont they thing they had going on since the sixth grade by showing up on her doorstep—apparently he had been waiting for her the entire day, according to Chrissy when she’d described the event in the locker room—one day after she’d been out with a friend. You recognized that it was most likely a cover for having been with Eddie. Jason had poured his heart out to her, informed her that he didn’t expect anything back, just needed her to know if she ever felt alone, he’d be there waiting for her, regardless of how long it may take her to be able to approach him about anything. She’d let Eddie down gently the next day. Didn’t stop him from hurting, though. “Well, Eddie,” He lifted his arm to peak over at you as you crawled closer. “I think you and I just became best friends.” And you had. From that moment on your friendship began to develop quickly. You’d stopped talking to Billy, he hadn’t put much effort into trying and you also started noticing things you definitely didn’t like about him. Like how he was the personification of garbage. You still tried your hardest to fit in, but your efforts were wasted, even more so now that you were friends with Eddie.

You didn’t care about that last part though, not when you got to spend so much time hanging out and joking with Eddie. You’d even helped him with some of his girl troubles, though he had to pry things about your romantic life out of you. Eddie enjoyed the hell out of having you around, he hadn’t realized how much until you mentioned that Patrick McKinney had asked you out before summer break and you told Patrick you’d think it over. Then you confided in Eddie that you didn’t see a reason to say no to Patrick; he was the sweetest of the jocks, very respectful towards women, surprisingly funny and you were attracted to him, too. Eddie did not enjoy the hell out of that. In fact, shortly after you had left, he’d had a breakdown over it, which he didn’t think was all that fair given his track record with women during the duration of your friendship compared to your history with other people. He didn’t know exactly when you developed feelings for him, but he knew you had them. And you’d still helped him out with his dates when he needed it. Part of him mused that it was because all his dates were flings. He never really saw them more than twice, and he knew they weren’t permanent. But with Patrick, you were right. Dude was the most decent out of the jocks and he wasn’t entirely sure you two wouldn’t be compatible. You could end up with him forever, get married, have cute little babies, a white picket fence and that scared the shit out of Eddie because it was him you were supposed to end up with forever. Him you were supposed to marry. His cute little babies you were supposed to have. He’d been dealing to a new customer (and a surprising one at that) when the epiphany hit him. Or rather, Chrissy managed to point out how he was obviously in love with you during their drug deal and he knew she was entirely right. You belonged with him. Not Patrick McKinney and certainly not Billy knock-off George Michaels Hargrove. Maybe Eddie had waited too long. Hargrove was a dick, but he wasn’t stupid. Probably used this opportunity as your co-worker to weasel his way back into your life.

When you told him who you’d be working with, Eddie tried valiantly and victoriously to not drive to his house and beat the shit out of him. Anything to get him to stay away from you. He never trusted him, especially because Billy got to see you in that tight, red swimsuit that occupied Eddie’s fantasies while he didn’t. “Fuck!” He yelled, fist coming down on the steering wheel hard. He’d been driving around for hours, the grey sky had darkened significantly and he needed answers. To hell with it.

Eddie’s tires screeched as he flipped a bitch—a U-turn—and sped into your neighborhood, tired of just circling it.

He hastily pulled up against the curb outside of your house, casting a bewildered look outside of the driver’s window at the girls in red and orange staring at him from your driveway. “What the hell—are you her fan club or something?” He yelled, hopping out of the van and slamming the door shut as he squinted in an effort to keep the raindrops out of his eyes. It was a rhetorical question, if you had a fan club, he’d be the President. “Is this her house?” Red asked, stiff and uncertain. Eddie stopped in front of them, mouth pressed into a thin line as he felt that feeling return again; the one that told him something was seriously wrong with the events taking place. Like you were in trouble. His Sunshine senses were tingling off the fucking radar.

“Yeah, why?”

They didn’t tell him anything, just exchanged those not so secretive looks with each other as they hurried in front of him. The little shits didn’t even bother knocking, just walked right in. Eddie wasn’t about to be shown up, nor did he like the sense of foreboding that seemed to waft from the house the moment they opened the door and he hurried in after them, hissing, “I know your class is probably in the middle of reading Goldilocks and the Three Bears, but breaking and entering is a crime.” One he had done several times. They shushed him as they made their way to the main hall, looking at your family photos as they went. Eddie tried not to let his eyes linger too much, his heart was starting to ache with longing. God, it had been too long since he’d last seen you. Three days, still much too long for his liking, and he’d make sure, if—by the grace of god at this point—you’d have him, he’ll never go that long without seeing your beautiful face in person again.

All three of them jumped when they heard music begin playing from the dinning room. It had to be you.

Eddie moved around the girls, bursting through the doorway.

Billy paused in his movements, fork hovering just a couple of centimeters away from where he was about to place it as he set the table. “Munson. Hey,” That had to be the most fake welcoming voice Eddie had ever heard.

Every single atom composing his body became stiff and, maybe it was the macho showdown thing, Eddie’s chest puffed out. His fists were clenched at his sides. “Hargrove. What a surprise.” Yeah, he was positive something was wrong. First sign, Billy was dressed like he was about to go to church. Second sign, Eddie didn’t know the guy all that well, personally, but he knew the guy was an asshole. Problem with that is that Billy wasn’t giving off his normal asshole vibes. He was giving off some really creepy vibes. The kind that gave even Eddie goosebumps.

What the hell was Billy doing in your house? Red and her friend hurried behind him once they’d heard Billy’s voice. “Max.” Eddie could tell Billy was gritting his teeth. “Maxine, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?” Billy abandoned the utensils, walking around the table until he was approaching them, but his focus was on Red—Max. Max shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “We just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” “Okay? Why wouldn’t it be okay?” “Where is she?” The timid one didn’t look so timid now and Eddie’s worry for you began to boil over. They knew something he didn’t and if it had them brave enough to practically break into your house, it must have been about your safety. “I’m sorry, where is who?”

“The one who actually lives here, Hargrove.” Eddie glanced past Billy, into your kitchen doorway where light seemed to be coming from. He didn’t even think twice before he swiped by him, stopping short only when you made yourself known. “Dinner will be ready soon, they should be home by—Hello.” You stopped in the doorway, glancing from Eddie, though you didn’t meet his eyes, to the girls then to Billy. Eddie didn’t like how you kept your gaze on Billy.

“Sweetheart,” Oh, fuck no. That was another one of Eddie’s nicknames for you. “This is my sister Maxine. Don’t think you guys met last time. And I’m sorry, I did not quite catch your name.” “El.” “El.” Billy repeated before turning his attention to Eddie who hadn’t taken his eyes off of you from the moment you came into sight. “And of course, we all know Munson. What brings you, here?” “Her,” He didn’t even bother glancing back at Billy, trying to use mind powers he didn’t have to will you to look up at him. C’mon, baby, give me a sign. Anything. You wanna be with him? Fine. I can wait for you. I’ll fight tooth and nail later, but I’ll leave you in peace, for now, the second you look up at me and I know you’re okay.

“I saw—’’ El began, but Max cut her off. “—Your manager. At the pool. He said you guys didn’t come in to work today, so we got worried.” Billy seemed to already have an excuse made up, “She got sick after work yesterday, and I took care of her.” Eddie felt the sting just as Billy meant him to.

“I didn’t think it was the best idea to just send her back out, especially in this weather, and she didn’t want to be alone, so we decided to hang out here all day and nurse her back to health. But you’re feeling just fine right now, aren’t you, babe?”

“I’m feeling so much better,” You agreed immediately, sending the girls a reassuring smile. You still refused to look at Eddie. “The rain messes with my sinuses and gives me headaches. It comes and goes!” Eddie knew at that point that he’d be freeing up his schedule for the rest of the week, until he could find out what had happened to you because there was no way the girl before him was you. You’d take a job at Camp Crystal Lake before you’d let Billy Hargrove speak for you anymore. And the way you were dressed, he’d still pop a woody under normal circumstances, but it definitely was not something he’d ever seen in your wardrobe. In fact, he’d never seen those articles of clothing in your closet or your dresser drawers. Finally, you made eye contact with him, and Eddie was positive it wasn’t you. He had no idea how to explain it, but it wasn’t. Your eyes lacked that sparkle that always took his breath away. He pursed his lips as he stared at you before nodding slowly, the corners of his lips twitching. “So you decided to hang out and make an elaborate dinner?” Eddie leaned back against the almost perfectly set table. “For her parents.”

“Mhm, for my parents.” His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. “Ah, I see. And this dinner, will it be warm by the time they come back into town?”

That seemed to catch both you and Billy off guard. You pouted, perfectly plucked brows pulling together. God, if you weren’t a total Stepford Wife, Eddie wouldn’t be able to resist kissing you.

“P-Pardon?”

“Your parents. I called this morning and they said they’d be back on Monday. It’s funny, I thought you would have known that if you were hanging out here all day. Didn’t run into them?” He mused, watching your face shift through expressions before your attention focused again on Billy. Eddie was positive they’d call tonight, once they arrived at their destination, to let you know of their return and where they had left you money to survive on. Because you hadn’t seen them before they left.

Because you hadn’t been home all day. “They didn’t want to intrude on us.” Billy supplied with ease, and Eddie finally forced his gaze away from you to glare at Billy. Eddie knew he was trying to get under his skin, but that was good. It meant Billy knew he was a threat.

“I’m sure they didn’t.” In the mythical world where your mom wouldn’t kill you for having Billy Hargrove—yes, she wanted you to date someone with a reputation but not that kind of reputation—in your room. The only reason Eddie was allowed in there during the day was because your mom still assumed you were a virgin despite the hoards of teenage boys around the high school campus and she didn’t think Eddie would be your type. Eddie pushed himself off the table, sensing the younger girls’ discomfort. “My mistake. Just wanted to return something.” He walked right up to you, watching your eyes harden the closer he got and pulled your pack from his pocket. “You dropped this.” Eddie could feel the temperature in the room dip as both you and Billy realized what it was he was returning. Your fanny pack, which Billy had discarded in his bathroom trash after attacking and abducting you, though this was unbeknownst to Eddie. A needle could drop and it’d be heard by all the occupants in the room. “Guess, we’ll be going now. C’mon girls. Maxine. El.” Despite how badly he didn’t want you out of his sight, he was pretty sure whatever was going on happened to be dangerous. Definitely not the place for kids.

He ushered the girls out of the house and back into the rain, completely aware of Billy watching them as they crossed the yard. El and Max retrieved their bikes and moved to hurry alongside him as he crossed the street to his van. “C’mon, we gotta go.” Max pulled on El’s raincoat, but she was staring up Eddie, looking almost scared. “Are you her friend?” She had to nearly shout to be heard over the heavy rain. “Yeah, I am.” He nodded, blinking away the tears of frustration as he swiped his wet bangs out of his face. How the fuck was he gonna figure this out? “But I don’t know who that was. She wasn’t acting like herself.” They did that thing again, shared a secretive look before they deemed him worthy. “She’s not safe.” El continued. Max gave her a sympathetic look. “El—’’ “I know what I saw, Max! And he knows, too. You have to trust me.” Max nodded before yanking up her hood. “Give us a ride. We’ll tell you everything.”

Eddie stared down at them like they were crazy. His head was hurting just trying to figure out how he was gonna get you away from Billy and sure, he felt bad that they’d have to ride their bikes in the rain, but letting two little girls into his van felt like a set up. Then again, they seemed to be the only other two people in this town worried about you and they didn’t even know you. He knew something was wrong with you. You were in trouble. And fuck if Eddie wasn’t gonna be the one to save you.

“Jesus H. Christ, get in the van—and I swear to god you better not tell anyone about this without context. In fact don’t tell anyone.” They climbed into the van as Eddie loaded their bikes into the back. “Start talking.” Eddie demanded as he started the van and pulled off onto the road. He was pretty confident he had an idea of what was going on, given the interactions between you and Billy, but he was missing some stuff. He was positive of that. And he’d need to know everything if he was going to try to be your hero. ─ TAG LIST: @merlieve @elitesanjisimp

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson x reader angst #Eddie Munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #Joseph quinn #Joseph Quinn x reader #max mayfield #maxine mayfield #eleven hopper #jane hopper

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dragonmuse · 2 years ago

Note

Lucius seems to have a thing for older men. In the main universe he mentions coming to terms with the fact that he’ll likely outlive both Pete and Izzy.

In the universe where all three are together, Izzy seems to handle it by being practical and making sure that Lucius will be taken care of financially.

How does Pete, in either universe, deal with Lucius being so much younger?

(How have I never discussed this? I am constantly surprised that I can cover so much ground and then look back and just see huge swaths of unexplored territory. It is a joy to create this map with all of you, just so you know!

To your question anon! This started as an answer, but got a bit ficlet on me so let's call it that)

Initially, Pete mostly worries that Lucius will just wake up one day and be like "who is this old dude in my bed? Gross." The longer that goes on with not happening, Pete graduates more into just being proud that he's managed to get this very hot young stud. He's not entirely sure how he managed it, but he's not going to let that stop him from fluffing his plumage abut it. (Lucky for him Lucius finds his pride about this very cute, especially as the years go by and it never dims.) What else is there to say about it? Pete is older, but aside from looks, Pete knows everyone would guess from the way they talk and act that Lucius had years on him.

Sometimes things will come up. Small things. Cartoons that were of the air before Lucius could watch them as a kid. Lucius will say things like, "Oh yeah, that election. It was the year before I could start voting, I was furious." And Pete will think Shit, I was 33. But that stuff comes up because they grew up in radically different places and ways too. They're not similar in a lot of ways, what's one more really?

And then Pete turned 46. Their relationship was six years old and they'd been married for two of those years. Lucius at thirty is even more beautiful, more solid and clever and kind. Pete still says 'my husband' with the kind of reverence reserved for angels and small gods.

It was a good birthday too. A group of them had gone bowling and Frenchie had made Pete a crown out of sparkly tulle and a boning meant for a corset that he wore all night. They drank enough to be merry, but not plastered. Izzy had even shown up, with a wrapped box of lures for their next fishing expedition. It was pretty great.

Yet, Pete woke up in the morning, and a tide of dread swept over him. Lucius was still sleeping, so Pete let him be, wandering into the living room. He didn't start coffee. He didn't go out to the get the paper. He didn't even take the couch. Instead, he claimed John's usual chair and looked out the window.

"Babe?" Lucius found him sometime later. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah." Pete shook himself, dredged up a smile. "You sleep okay?"

"Yeah," Lucius frowned at him. "Hey, c'mon, what's up?"

"Dunno," Pete admitted. "Just woke up with a bad feeling."

"Something happen last night?"

"No, it was great. I had a good time," Pete assured him. He rubbed a hand over his head, the faint scratch of stubble around the edges reminding him it was almost time for a clean up. "I don't know. Maybe it was a weird dream I can't remember or something. You want coffee?"

"How about I make it?"

"Thanks."

The coffee got Pete to move. He sat down beside Lucius on the couch. Lucius was still just in boxers. There was a little hair on his belly these days as if it had just figured out it was supposed to arrive. Pete like that hair, had run his hand over it many times.

"I could take some time this afternoon," Lucius offered, rousing Pete's attention back to his face. "We could hang out, if you want."

"No, it's okay. I've got to finish up the seaming on that pant suit or Frenchie is going to murder me," he sighed. "It's fine, babe, really."

They wound up working side by side anyway. Lucius usually preferred to draw at his desk in the bedroom, but he declared the light in the living room was better today and Pete wasn't going to argue him out of it. Frenchie and John were on a buying expedition, picking fabrics for one of their choosier clients. It was nice to have company in their absence.

Without them, Pete put on his own music, pleased that he could do so uncontested for once. Lucius didn't care, too deep in his work to register much at all. On a whim, he chose an older playlist and hummed along to the music his father had always loved. Old fashioned folk and country things.

It was only halfway through the "Sixteen Tons" that Pete's foot fell off the pedal, stopping the hem midway through. The song fell into the depths, forgotten.

He looked to Lucius, who was tapping his lips with one knuckle on his left hand as he drew a careful arc with his left. The late afternoon sun caught in his dark hair and he looked entirely peaceful and beautiful. His skin was still flawless, broken up only by a five o'clock shadow.

Pete paused the music. It's absence registered more with Lucius than it's presence had and he looked up immediately.

"Are we taking a break?" he asked, rolling his shoulders back.

"I figured it out."

"What'd you figure?"

"I know why I woke up weird today."

"Yeah?" Lucius set aside the tablet and stylus. Still the same one Pete had fixed for him years ago. "Why's that?"

"My dad...he didn't make it to 46."

"I never did the math on that. Fuck, that's so young."

"Right?" Pete scooted over to bump his hip into Lucius' and was rewarded with an arm around his shoulders. "I have days, I guess. But I still feel really good. Happy. Healthy. But he was too, you know? Until that last year or so. What if that happened to me too?"

"You said he never went to a doctor though," Lucius reminded him. "And he didn't take very good care of himself."

"It was the job," Pete agreed. "I think it killed him, in the end. But...I don't know. How can I not think about that?"

"Guess you have to, at least a little."

"I don't have a will."

"....okay, so?"

"So," Pete closed his eyes. "I should have one. My Dad didn't and it was such a mess. I don't want that for you."

"Hey...hey we don't have to talk like that," Lucius said quickly.

"No, I think maybe we do. Just for a few minutes, okay?"

Lucius' mouth pinched up, but he nodded once, accepting.

"I'll ask Stede about a lawyer, he knows a bunch," Pete decided. "It's not like there's a lot of stuff, but I've got a little money saved up. There's the IRA. I want to make sure you get all that."

"Pete-" Lucius started then stopped. "Okay, babe. But only if I get one too."

"Why?"

"I'm not immortal either," he said softly. "And shit happens. You want to take care of me, I want to take care of you. Okay?"

"...yeah, okay."

And he'd go along with it. They'd both get wills written up, simple things to cover their few assets and belongings. They told John and Frenchie where they were were stored just in case which inspired them to do the same. It was fine. Just paperwork.

"You've got a will, right?" Pete asked Izzy. They were sitting out on a rented rowboat, lines cast and the day so beautiful, it was hard to believe death was real in it's golden light.

"Yeah. Changed it a year or two ago so Read can keep her place if something happens," Izzy didn't seem bothered by the topic, eyes mostly on the water.

"Oh yeah, she gets everything then?"

"No. Good chunk, but the agency goes to Jim. Few things to a few other people. My place and the rest of the money goes to Lucius. I figure he can sell it if he wants, but it's as much his as it is mine by now."

"I keep thinking abut that. I never really thought what it would mean in the long run," Pete admitted. Who else could he say this to, really? "I never realized that from the word go, I was setting myself up to leave him."

"Not like you're getting a divorce," Izzy was looking at Pete now, not the water. "We can't do shit about it."

"I could've found someone my own age like a fucking normal person. No offense."

"Fuck off," Izzy said without heat. "Anyone can die on anyone. That's just how it is."

"But-"

"No fucking buts. He's a grown ass man, he made his choices. All you and I can do is try our fucking best for him. Like everything else."

"Yeah, yeah you're right," Pete subsided. He turned his attention back to the fishing line.

A few minutes later, Izzy turned back to him, eyes flashing,

"But you better fucking outlive me, Black."

"Uh...why?"

"Because I am not dealing with him on my own. I can barely do this as a team. You die on me and I will dig you the fuck up and kill you again myself. Got it?"

Pete paused than burst out laughing. "Yeah, I got it."

He didn't really make it a habit of doing what Izzy wanted, mostly because the man was very easy to rile up in predictably hilarious ways, but he thought just this one time he might do his best to rise to the occasion.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #marry me about it #pete black #lucius black

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swbumblebee · 3 years ago

Text

What if Qui-Gon Jinn was not particularly special in his post-mortem abilities?

AKA “Old Ben” and his many Force parents.

They had all watched, their collective Force aura swamped in sadness, grief and longing, as Qui-Gon finally introduced himself to Obi-Wan.

They’d never call him ‘Old Ben’. The fact that he was only 40 years old notwithstanding, this was the boy they’d raised, grown up with, idolised. They remembered him toddling about the gardens, fascinated by the brightly coloured flowers; Getting shy around pretty people and developing awkward crushes. They remembered him standing alone at the head of an army, quietly confident and immeasurably capable. They had vivid memories of him carrying them back to the creche, so steady and strong; of his measured wisdom, and the confidence that Obi-Wan Kenobi would always triumph.

They remembered the mullet.

Nobody named “Old Ben” ever had a mullet.

The man they now, as they always had really, looked to for a light when everything else went dark.

They didn’t catch the murmured words. They were Jedi after all, (even if they were now technically one big Jedi rather than a temple full of Jedi) and eavesdropping was rude. Nobody listened to the sulky mutterings of the presence that was Quinlan Vos.

Their boy was nodding, sitting quietly on the floor whilst he finally, finally after weeks of careful and gentle persuasion, of them all keeping a tight rein on the order’s maverick (“Do not, we repeat do not, come out of the water tank. You’ll give him a cardiac arrest or something”) believed in the presence he saw before him.

They watched once more, pleased, as their missing piece allowed himself to be bullied to his feet, and guided over to the pile of blankets he called a bed.

They could feel Qui-Gon’s bitter relief as he perched next to his former student, his longing to pull the blankets up around his boy and smooth back his hair.

But words were all they had.

Still, as Obi-Wan Kenobi had shown the Galaxy; you could do a lot with words.

---

They’d argued (as much as an incorporeal fusion of spirits could argue) at length over who got to go next.

“I knew him longest, he’ll trust me!”

“He needs someone calm, measured. I will go”

“No offence Master Plo but you’ll make him cry. He needs cheering up, I’ll go!”

“Vos so help me Force-“

“I was the Master of the Order, I should do it”

“Master, we’re dead. I’m not sure seniority applies.”

In the end it was narrowed down to two options; Bant Erin, Obi-Wan’s oldest friend. Sweet natured and kind, she would be the perfect choice.

And Mace Windu.

It turns out seniority does still apply beyond the grave.

---

A small part of Obi-Wan’s subconscious was telling him that it was starting to get a bit awkward.

The transparent blue form of Mace Windu was looking down at him, the welcoming smile quickly turning into a grimace.

“…Obi-Wan?”

No. no no no this was not happening. He didn’t have time to go round the bend he had a child to protect!

He wasn’t sure if it was reasonable to measure sanity on the volume of dead loved ones he was hallucinating, but somehow one seemed saner than two.

Though it turns out he’s insane, and so not a good barometer of these things.

He knew his stare was starting to get very unnerving as his hysterical inner-ramblings reached a fever pitch.

“…Obi-Wan, are you alright?” Imaginary Mace Windu asked, concern and a tiny bit of nervousness showing on his face.

“I’m fine, how are you?” Obi-Wan asked, remembering a solid piece of advice from his formative years; Always fall back upon good manners when in unfamiliar territory Padawan mine.

Well, this was about as unfamiliar as it got.

Imaginary Mace looked at him, utterly baffled for a moment.

“Well…I’m dead, I suppose, is how I am” he answered awkwardly.

“Right. Obviously.” Obi-Wan nodded politely. “My condolences”

There was another awkward silence.

Imaginary Mace tilted his head for a moment, listening for something.

“Well…here I am” he said, spreading his arms a little.

“…yes.”

The other Jedi frowned at Obi-Wan’s strained reply and his act of scrubbing his hands down his face as if to wipe away the image in front of him.

“Qui-Gon didn’t…didn’t mention we were coming?” he asked tentatively.

Obi-Wan shook his head, wordlessly.

The frown on Imaginary Mace turned into a complete scowl as the pieces seemed to fall into place.

“JINN” he bellowed, and Obi-Wan felt it echo in the Force like nothing before.

“He can’t hear you, he’s with Yoda”

Another figure popped into existence next to Mace, and Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes once again as Depa Billaba bowed to him.

“Obi-Wan” she greeted with a grin.

“…hi” He took a deep breath, mentally cursing his absent-minded Master.

“Are you alright?” Depa didn’t stop for a reply as she looked down with him and gestured at him, gently instructing him to get up from the floor. “Oh look you’ve scraped your knee there! Master I knew you’d startle him!” she scolded her former Master.

It felt like he was having an out of body experience as Depa ushered him into a chair (the only chair in the hut), Mace looking on anxiously.

“There we go” Depa soothed as she got him settled “I wish we could make you some tea my friend.” She said disappointedly.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“You ah…you can’t?” he asked, something permeating the haze. Of this whole situation, that seemed by far the most unfair thing.

Mace smiled encouragingly, seemingly happier to be on more binary ground.

“I’m afraid not, we are beings of the Force, like your Master.” He explained, before scowling again. “Who, I would kill if he weren’t already dead,” he growled.

“I’m so sorry Obi-Wan” Depa said, dismayed “We all wanted to come and be with you, but we though Qui-Gon might be best to start with, so as not to overwhelm you”

“Sorry about that” Mace said apologetically.

They sat in silence a moment, Depa and Mace watching him process.

For the first time ever, Obi-Wan had exactly zero thoughts in his head.

He was starting to feel the pressure.

“All?” he tried.

Depa and Mace looked at each other.

“You ah…you said ‘all wanted to come’” he clarified.

Depa nodded happily.

“Yes yes, we’re all there Obi-Wan” she smiled at him

“Any Jedi slain by a Sith, or the machinations of the Sith, is there” Mace explained.

Obi-Wan was having the slightest bit of trouble taking deep breaths. Neither of his companions seemed to have noticed.

“Where?” he asked, only mildly aware that his voice was getting just a little pitchy.

“In the Force, we’re all one in the Force” Depa started again, and then paused a little lost for words.

“We’re all together and we kind of…share our presences” Mace picked up, with difficulty “Everyone who was killed by Palpatine’s evil, everyone from us right down to the littlest initiate, we share one consciousness in the Force.”

Obi-Wan was none the wiser.

Mace waved a hand frustratedly.

“Sorry, Plo explains it better”

“Plo?” Obi-Wan loved Master Plo. He loved all of them. And they were gone.

“Hello Obi-Wan”

“Well, if Plo and Depa get to see him I’m bloody well here too!”

“Hi Obi”

“Obes!”

He could only watch, speechless, as the faces of old friends, comrades, mentors and carers crammed into his hut, all looking at him with unadulterated, unfiltered pleasure and love was the last thing he saw before his scrambled brain decided it’d had enough, and he knew nothing but darkness.

---

It turns out, living with the forms of all your dead teachers, carers and friends was actually rather trying, after a while.

“Oh thank goodness you’re not still drinking that awful caff”

“I like caff – Master Plo please don’t try and lift that”

“Relax Obi dear, we’re incorporeal”

“Can still see things though”

“Vos get out of my fresher!”

“What does this do?”

“Never you mind. No don’t – Ugh. Why don’t some nice, well behaved padawans ever come to see me?”

“They’re not allowed, only those who knew you personally can visit. We thought it might get a bit stressful otherwise.”

“…I can’t imagine.”

Aside from having to adapt his busy routine to accommodate half a dozen fidgety and curious…ghosts (?) poking around his small hut at any one time, another unexpected addition to his (attempted) isolation on Tatooine was the nagging. And Force could they nag! The concentrated worry of many, many, beings with nowhere else to direct their extra energies was powerful.

“Obi-Wan you haven’t drank enough today. Go and check the vaporators”

“Padawan aren’t you going to eat?”

“Listen, that plie of cloth can’t be good for your spine”

“Force! Get some sun block Kenobi or you’re going to look like an old shoe in three months”

“No right, I saw a sunhat he can buy at the market”

It was…weird. He’d always been very self-sufficient, not to mention being the centre of everyone’s attention was difficult, to say the least. But as the months went on, he found himself transitioning from awkward acquiescence to see-sawing between mulishness and good-natured obedience. The stubbornness rising usually when the despair did. But those days were few and far between.

And now, when they did occur (for one can only avoid one’s demons for so long) and he felt like he was drowning in the weight of existence, he could rely on his friends for encouragement, care, and the motivation to carry on.

“If you join us before your time I will KILL you Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now kriffing well eat something!”

---

Of course, when their brother, friend, son, comrade, teacher and last hope did at last join them, there was no nagging or disappointment (or violence). The ultimate Jedi was back in the fold and they were once again complete.

#And they're fussing #Obi-Wan Kenobi #mace windu #I See Dead Jedi #depa billaba #jedi order #fluff?#snippet of nothing

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toomanyrobins2 · 4 years ago

Text

Those Four Words Pt. 1

Summary: an escalating fight between Jason and his girlfriend leads to a tense two weeks in Wayne Manor

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex and excessive drinking, mentions of character death

masterlist // next part

Jason Todd was in a terrible mood, having just got into an argument with Bruce. He decided to go up to his girlfriend’s studio to get away. She had been hard at work the past couple of days and he was getting needy. He came up behind her on the floor and pulled her into his lap. She tried to wiggle out of his arms. “Jay, I'm trying to do something right now.

He tried to snuggle closer to his girlfriend, “I deserve some of your time too.

“Deserve? You’re especially demanding today. What did you do?” Jason scoffed and pulled away. “What has crawled up your ass?”

“You did.”

She managed to escape and turned to look at her boyfriend, “I did? Huh, I think I would’ve remembered such a disgusting journey into your body.

“Dammit, Y/N! Enough with the sarcasm! You know what I’m saying.”

She sighed at Jason’s attitude, “I don’t understand what you’re doing right now, but you are starting a fight just for the sake of an argument. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you want right now.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Jason was standing over his girlfriend, his whole body tense, “From any of you.”

“Why are you being like this? What happened?”

“What? You thought the minute we started dating all of our problems would magically disappear? Are you really that naive?”

Y/N put her brushes down and stood. She tried to walk closer, but he matched each step, moving away from her. “Jason, where the hell is this coming from? I thought we had got past this. Even you and Bruce are in a better place.”

“You think I'll ever forget you abandoned me. You all did!”

“Abandon you! What have you been smoking? We thought you died!”

“You replaced me!”

Now, Y/N was angry too and it was rare that anyone saw her this way. She was deadly calm, but the fire was roaring in her eyes, “I did not replace you.”

“That’s right, you were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham to even think about me.”

“That is not fair and you know it. I mourned you. We all mourned your arrogant ass. I never stopped missing you.”

“I saw the articles, Y/N! Don’t pretend you were mourning me. You were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham.”

Her mind went back to three years ago. Jason had died in an explosion set up by the Joker. She was sixteen and her best friend had died, and she hadn’t handled it well. What started as a way to get out of the house with friends, had led to this wild, secret life. Y/N had snuck out at night and used Bruce’s name to get into clubs. She drank anything she could get her hands on and had gone home with multiple men, trying to forget her pain. Once, Bruce had found out, her world had imploded. He sent her away and finally got her the help she should have received when her parents had passed. The only reason Y/N had moved back to the manor was that Jason had been found. She couldn’t believe that he was trying to use her moments of weakness against her, “How dare you throw that back on me. I was just trying to numb the pain. It wasn’t like I was celebrating the fact that you were gone.”

“Yeah, it really looked like you missed me.”

“God Dammit, Jay!” she stamped her foot, knowing it was childish, “If you would just listen to me!”

“Oh fuck off, Y/N! If I had known I was ever going to be stuck with you and your nagging, I wouldn’t have come back.”

“I wish you hadn’t!” The minute the words left Y/N’s mouth, she gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Jason’s emotionless mask slammed into place, and suddenly he was as blank as the day Bruce had found him. He turned to walk out and Y/N chased after him, “Jay, wait! I’m sorry!” He jumped onto his motorcycle and was out the door before she could stop him. She slammed her fist into the wall and cursed in frustration and pain. No one would see either of them for the rest of the day. Y/N stayed in her studio, wondering how they got to the point of shouting such hurtful things at each other.

The next day, they had both shown up for Friday night dinner, as was expected of them. Neither spoke, and the tension was too thick to be cut with a knife. Y/N had tried to pull him aside and apologize after dinner, but he had shot her with a cutting glare and stalked away. The other could tell that something had happened, but no one had the details. Tim wandered into the library after patrol that night, to find her in a chair tucked into the corner. “What are you doing here (Y/N/N)? Isn’t it a movie night with Todd?” He noted the tear tracks down her face but knew she hated showing weakness, so he said nothing about them.

“I wasn’t feeling up to it, so I canceled. I think I’ll head to bed now. Night, Timmy.” Y/N went to her room and cried herself to sleep, the guilt overwhelming her as she played the argument over in her head. If only she had just taken a break, maybe the whole situation could have been avoided. She woke up multiple times in the night, crying out Jason’s name after seeing him and the Joker over and over again. Finally, around 3 in the morning, she gave up on sleep and went to the kitchen to pour herself coffee. She decided to keep busy and started making breakfast for the family.

Alfred was the first to appear in the morning, as usual. Y/N tried to pretend that everything was normal, but nothing could be hidden from the family’s butler. He noted the dark circles under her eyes and the tremors in her hands from over-caffeination. The boys slowly started to emerge, and Alfred started to bring out all the food she had made. She made two plates out of habit and headed for the dining room. Y/N started to hand Jason his breakfast as she had every morning for a year, but suddenly she remembered and pulled her hand away. Jason didn’t even bother to look at her, and her heart clenched. She placed the plate on the table and walked back into the kitchen. “Sorry, Alfred, I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go paint.” She placed the plate she had made for herself on the counter and left.

Y/N’s studio had been a safe space since she had first moved into the manor. She had hidden away when she first arrived at Wayne Manor, unused to such an active family. Bruce had called workers to the manor and redid the room when she had told him she liked art. Now, after years of work, canvasses filled the room on all sides. Some paintings, others photos, she had accumulated in the three years. They hung on the walls and were laid across the floor. She flooded the room with Swan Lake, her sad music, and started to mix her colors. The music she played had become an easy way for the others to discern her moods since she hadn’t spoken to anyone except Fallon, Bruce’s wife, when she first came. Bruce and Dick had installed a speaker system in her studio to drown out the noise when she was overwhelmed, and everyone in the Manor could hear it if she turned it on loud enough. When the first notes hit their ears, all eyes in the dining room turned to Jason. He refused to look up and make eye contact, instead, he stared at the breakfast that had been abandoned on the table. Once everyone had averted their gaze, he pushed away from the table and disappeared.

This led to one of the most uncomfortable weeks in the Manor ever. Y/N barely left her studio and no one saw Jason for three days before he returned. When he did, he started to act as if nothing had happened. The music had eventually stopped playing altogether, so they had no idea what kind of mood she was in. Finally, Damian was the one to gather everyone else together, “Y/N/N has not come out of her studio in a week. Since Buckethead has just decided to pretend nothing has happened. We need to fix this.”

Bruce spoke up first, “Jason and Y/N are both adults. They are both being immature, and it will eventually work itself out.

“How can we fix this when we don’t even know what happened?” Tim looked up from his laptop, “I’ve been checking in on Y/N on the cameras. All she does is paint, and the most she’s slept in days is when she falls asleep accidentally. That never lasts long, and she cries. A lot.”

“Why did Fallon have to leave! We need to fix this, or the family vacation is going to be the worst!” Dick collapsed on the couch. Fallon had finally convinced Bruce that the family needed a vacation, but two weeks before they were supposed to leave, her sister had had a baby. She decided to go help her out and just meet them at the resort. They now had a week left, and it was not looking good. No one wanted to bother their mother since she very rarely took time for herself and was enjoying time with her family. They decided Alfred would be the one to try and convince Y/N to leave the studio at least and eat something.

He appeared in the doorway and watched silently as Y/N worked on a large canvas. He walked over and saw that it was a portrait of the family. “This is beautiful, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her voice was hoarse from disuse.

“What is the plan for this one?” Alfred sat down next to her on the floor.

“Everyone hates photos, but Fallon wanted a family portrait for the sitting room. Since no one can sit still long enough I decided to paint one and give it to her for her birthday,” she slowly sucked in a breath, “Plus they only have the old one, and J--some people-- are missing from it.” Tears started to well up again in her eyes. Alfred wrapped an arm around Y/N and just sat with her for a moment.

“I’ve kicked the boys out of the kitchen. Do you think you could come down and eat something? For me?” She only nodded and they both stood. Y/N sat on a stool and silently ate the soup Alfred had laid out for her. She barely tasted anything, and she was starting to feel dizzy. Her vision started to blur, and the next thing she knew, she was waking up on the floor and had five heads floating above her.

“Hi, guys. Thought the floor looked lonely.” She tried to sit up but was cut off.

“That is it,” Bruce spoke firmly, “You are going to bed, and you are sleeping. I thought you were mature enough to deal with this but I see I was wrong.” He picked Y/N up and noticed she had lost weight. He carried her up the stairs and before he had reached her bedroom, she was already asleep again. Bruce turned to the boys. “At least one of you is staying in here with her and making sure she sleeps.”

Tim volunteered for the first shift and settled into her desk with his laptop. Y/N had barely been asleep an hour before she woke up from a nightmare of Jason dying. She shot up and shouted out his name, before bursting into tears. Tim -- being the awkward person he is -- was ill-prepared to deal with the crying Y/N. The only solution he could think of was to climb into bed with her and pull up a movie. She slowly fell asleep again and clung to Tim like a starfish. When Dick came to relieve Tim and saw that he was unable to leave, he climbed into bed with the duo. Anytime Y/N would start to become distressed, they would calm her down. Eventually, Damian and Titus joined the cuddle pile, the former somewhat reluctantly, grumbling about how he was only doing this for Y/N. Little did the Bat-Family know, Alfred had called Fallon and told her about the situation and she had rushed home.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #tim drake imagine #dick grayson imagine #bruce wayne imagine #damian wayne imagine #batfamily #toomanyrobins #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader

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sepia-mahogany · 3 years ago

Text

Platonic Hanahaki

The stories are just as widely known, of loving and losing, of yearning and forgetting, common in present time as they were years ago, of loving someone so deeply, without desire but not without passion, of kings and warriors, of lovers and brothers, of people not kin not lovers, growing in their lungs the flowers with thorns that cut deep, and drank away their blood without leaving any survivors.

Of course the tales are many, as tragic as they are, of how a man who killed his beloved for making him feel what he deemed unnecessary, his beloved who offered him a little white carnation, covered red in blood, but he held up his sword and cut through flesh, only to follow few days later in his grief.

Or of how a woman travelled across seas, in search of her soulmate, for the agony of her blood kept her comfort, for the heartbeat that echoed along with the garden she grew inside her lungs, because it meant her beloved was well, until one day, she coughed up a black rose and sank to her knees, disappearing from the world.

Of course, there were the ones who lived and got their happy ends, filled with their beloved ones caress or tears of guilt, and so was recorded, the flowers turning to dust and fading away, for their love had been acknowledged, so why the need for the reminder in their veins? Only marks appear on their skin, the place where they first made contact, sometimes the cheek, sometimes the hand, sometimes unseen under the clothes from when they rough-housed as kids.

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

Jiang Fengmian closed the book that he read, the pain blossoming sharp in his lungs, since that night when he sat, staring at the lotuses under the moonlight, his mind drifting to moments of the past, of longing of what once was, Lotus Pier once his home, felt more like a shackle around his wrists, yet this was his responsibility and he would bear the weight.

He thought to the day he waved away his dearest friend, the one by his side since they were young and grown into the men they were today, and as life went on, it was natural and it was expected, so Fengmian had not been forlorn but rather joyfully wished them well with sincerity and hoped they could visit some time in the future.

He was happy for Changze, for he had found his One, he’d seen the way he looked at her and she at him, he may have held affections for one of them but his love for their friendship outweighed it, and he would be content if they were healthy and successful in the path they chose, but even he knew with their own busy lives, it would be difficult to meet for a long time, so he bid them farewell and cherished their memories.

He didn’t feel as disappointed over his marriage as he originally did, it might have been arranged because of Meishan Yu Sect’s pressuring and his mother’s continuous desire for wanting one of theirs to be his bride, ‘to be the stern hand to his mellowness’ she had said, and what kind of a filial son would he be if he broke the betrothal off now?

And it was not as if he knew the Third Lady of Meishan Yu personally, seeing his brother-in arm’s relationship, his heart could not help but swell with hope, perhaps they could come to understand one another? He looked at his flowers, the ones he had grown with them, and the purple lotuses blooming near the entrance and thought, would she notice how the the colour reflected her eyes? Maybe a boat ride would help? Making future plans with anticipation, he felt a smile blooming on his face.

The day of the wedding came and went, except the chambers of the first night of the married couple remained empty, for his wife had requested for separate quarters in the privacy of their room, he agreed, perhaps she was nervous? Knowing each other better was better than consummation with a stranger, he nodded to himself, he should probably help make her comfortable as her husband.

He approached her room after he finished dressing and knocked lightly, and hesitantly called out “Third-lady?” The door opened, by one of the two girl’s Yu Ziyuan had brought over, and he saw his heart skip a beat when he saw her sitting clothed in Yunmeng Jiang’s purple, her violet eyes staring at him, her lips pursed in a line.

“What is it?” she asked, annoyance clear by her expression, he hesitated yet again, perhaps he had come too early? Yesterday had been a busy banquet. “Would you like to come to the pavilion with me today?” her eyes narrowed and he thought he saw a brief anger flash on her face, was she misunderstanding his intentions?? “The flowers are quite beautiful and the weather is quite good today, tea outside seems a calming time, doesn’t it?” he added, trying to make sure his tone did not seem too hurried, except she became even more angry.

Just when he expected her to refuse, she nodded curtly, “What time?” He let out a breath he did not even realise that he was holding, “Whatever seems comfortable.” He smiled at her gently, her eyes roamed over his face once again before she looked away, knowing full well she meant for him to leave, he got up.

He was happy throughout the day and it must have shown on his face, because his right-hand man told him to leave the Sect work to him for today and ‘just go Sect Leader!”, he had prepared the afternoon snacks himself, the place polished and ready for a wonderful evening, despite that, he still could not help but anxiously look over everything as he waited for her arrival, and she arrived, wearing the same robes as she was in the morning.

He got up to extend her seat. “Good Evening, Third-Lady” She had been looking around the garden since she had entered, he thought it out of appreciation, since these were the flowers they cultivated for years, until her eyes landed on him, which held the same anger as they did earlier in the morning. He served her the tea which she held tightly in her hands, and he found himself worrying, “Is something wrong?”

He expected her to say that the tea was not up to her taste at best, he expected her to criticise the garden’s decor at worse, what he had not expected were the words that left her mouth. “So this is the garden you cultivated with that woman? And you dared to bring me, your wife, here on the first day after our marriage?” She hissed, her words crisp and cutting, he felt confusion, followed by horrified upon realisation of the implications.

“Third-Lady! What are you saying??”

“What am I saying?! Do you deny it? Do you take me for a fool? You married me once you were rejected by her, everyone knows that and you think that I will sit here calmly while being disrespected!? What do you take me for??” She yelled at him, slamming the cup down, he was truly shocked and frozen in his spot looking at her in bewilderment, had that really been what everyone was saying?

However, she took his shocked silence for agreement and got up to leave, “Third-Lady wait! It isn’t as you think, at all! Let me explain, we were friends and nothing else” He saw her pause, her back towards him so he hurried to explain.

“Changze brought her over once, to show her the garden we had cultivated since we were kids.” He paused to take a breath, “The only thing that was planted upon her suggestion were the purple lotuses-” He saw her head tilt as she looked the flowers, with a hopeful heart he thought, ‘maybe..?’ But before he could finish, Yu Ziyuan had turned around, a sneer upon her lips as she trampled upon the flowers next to her.

‘...to be the first thing you see, when you enter the garden.’

She left him staring at the trampled flowers, the tea cup tipped all over the table from when she smashed it in anger, and he sat there, processing what had happened, until a disciple knocked at the door, “Sect Leader?” The disciple peeked inside to catch his eye and stammered, “The meeting is about to begin, some urgent things came up and-” he smiled and replied “Of course, I’ll be on my way.” He sent the disciple off, grabbed a few napkins to clean up the table, and picked up the trampled flowers from the ground.

The days that followed went on without much words spoken between them, he did not dare to make the first move, because if she could misunderstand him in ways to such high extents, he was not sure what she would think if her sent over gifts, even if the thought of sending some crossed his mind, her scowling face and the violet of her eyes reminded him of that day, leading him to stay away.

He entered the garden, as months went by, the flowers that were once blooming wilted, just like everything in life had its end, some more sooner than the others, some caused by another, he thought as his eyes lingered on the place where once the purple lotus flowers stood.

--------

“She’ll love them!” Cangse Sanren had said with that confident smile of hers, giving him thumbs up with both hands covered in dirt from where she planted her side of the lotuses with Changze, who nodded as well when he looked at him. “The ones on the right are from us, the ones to left were planted by her were own future-husband.” She grinned as he could feel flush creeping up his cheeks, he cleared his throat accompanied by Changze’s fond sigh.

“She’ll probably melt, Sect Leader Jiang, down on his hands and knees in dirt, planting flowers in her-” Jiang Fengmian cut her off “Okay, enough! Enough!” he muttered, wiping his hands clean and looking at Changze, who only looked the other way as his wife cackled, the traitor. “Besides I plant flowers anyway, so does Changze, it’s not anything special like that.” He said defensively, Cangse Sanren had the audacity to roll her eyes, at Sect Leader, and his own home at that. “Sureee, Fengmian, sure.”

---------

When he began to plant new fresh seeds, it took him much longer without Changze doing the other half, now, the thought of even considering Yu Ziyuan to plant the other half seemed laughable, he had been wrong in thinking they could come to understand one another, but now what was done was done, he could not exactly with separate her just within a few months of marriage, so he took a deep breath and decided upon a peace offering.

She was the Violet Spider, with a harsh temper and equally cutting words, what would be a gift that would be to her liking? He did not need to ponder over it for long, because to his surprise, he was approached by her during the evening, when he was alone. “I want to handle the training of the disciples.” She stated more than asked, Jiang Fengmian hesitated, that was a mistake, “What? Don’t think I’m good enough to train Yunmeng Jiangs disciples? Not good enough as your-” he cut her off,

“No! That’s not what I was thinking-” the original instructor had been hand picked and carried the legacy of his forefathers, how could he alter what was passed down for generations- “Did you speak over me!? Trying to silence me, are you? With how you married me as a substitute for her? Is that not it?? Is that why you’re so hesitant?? Or perhaps is it that I’m a woman and you’re scared-” what?? “My Lady! That’s not it at all! I-”

“Then prove it, or else it's not believable at all, what other reason would you have then, to think that I am somehow inferior in your mind?” Her words dripped with poison, her eyes locking onto him, eyes of a venomous spider, he raised up his hand to massage his forehead. “Its not that simple! The instructing handlers have been passed down through generations, I cannot just change it on a whim.”

And she leaned back, smug as if she had won the argument, “Then perhaps it is not I who is lacking.” He felt cold all over, the anger he felt giving him no warmth, insulting his friends, insulting him, and now his sect. “Third-Lady, please be careful of what you speak, careless words aren’t able to be taken back easily.” Her smile remained, “Who says these are careless words? I mean every one of them, your Sect teachings haven’t produced any excelling disciple for the past years, while other Sect’s flourish, give me the reigns and I’ll show you how its done.”

Not only accepting all her words as intentional, but also implying she could do better than the Jiang Sect’s teachings over hundreds of years, he realised more and more what sort of a person he had been tied down to, would it not be better to just end the marriage? He instead looked over her smug expression and took a deep breath, “Fine, but give me time.” She nodded and left at that, a means to an end, giving her the benefit of the doubt, he did not know at the time, would turn out to be one of his worst mistakes.

It took him months but he managed to get some disciples under Yu Ziyuan, but his concerns were not simply over the teachings, if Yu Ziyuan could act the way she did with him, well with disciples? So he supervised the training lessons, but again to his surprise, other than some curt words, she did not verbally attack them the way she had attacked him, so it wasn’t her behaviour in general, just with him.

Of course he had called over one of the disciples randomly, although nervous and stuttering, the boy had answered that the training was going quite well, and with no reports or complaints in the following months, he could not do anything but let the matter drop, with this however, the matter of their distance remained as it was.

Soon he found that she relocated the aides he had, he had been angry of course, and immediately gone to her. “Where did you send Li Feng and the rest? And with what authority, you have no right-” she cut him off slamming her hands on top of the table. “With authority as your wife!? Or have you forgotten who your wife is?? So what? Can’t I move around servants here??” the anger churned his insides more so than anything else.

“Those people aren’t servants, Li Feng is my right-hand man, please refer to them respectfully.” He tried to speak as calmly as possible, she glared at him “As the Madam of this house, I can do however I want.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, looked at her, her violet eyes, and exhaled. “Every action I do is met with anger, scorn or contempt,” He began, voice devoid of previous anger, “Then perhaps we should part ways.” He finished and her expression changed.

Out went the anger from her glare, instead for the first time she looked at him with shock instead of rage, and it was the first time he heard her stutter. “F-Fengmian, you can’t…” He looked at her, much relaxed with his mind made up, “Third-Lady, we clearly aren’t meant to be, we are completely different.” He turned his back and made to leave, with his hand on the door handle, “How dare you do this to me?”

Still the same, he closed his eyes, “How dare you, when I work day and night to train your disciples, how dare you, when you agreed to marry me in the first place, if anything, it's all your fault these things happen!” She yelled and he turned to look at her in disbelief, she cried “Why did you marry me if you were going to abandon me later?? How dare you!” she grabbed the nearest object, a cup and threw it at him, but he caught it before it broke.

‘Your fault’ she said, how was it his fault with any of it?? With how she behaved- “Have I caused problems in your Sect?? Have I gone out of my way to harm your people? All I did was rearrange the schedule setting but you seem to think I have committed treason?!”

She looked at him with anger “Did you not approach me first on that day? I was fine in my own quarters but you had to approach me.” He did but it was for purpose of getting to know each other better!

“Then all I asked was to train your disciples, only to get your suspicion” She huffed angrily “Do you think think me blind? That I would not if you called them to check if I was abusing them?? What do you take me for exactly!?” She saw him staring wide-eyed and nodded “You don’t get to ask for separation when I’m one who has suffered, after I’ve worked so hard, you could make some efforts too, if you weren’t so obsessed with that woman, and hate me unreasonably for not being her, then perhaps you would know!” She left, slamming the door behind her.

Her words repeated over and over in his head, ‘your fault’, true he had approached her first that day...but..and again the thing with disciples, he felt guilt creeping up in his heart, he should have tried harder if she misunderstood him, he should have explained it better, in a few days he saw his aides once again under him, but instead of greeting him like they usually did, they looked at him as if a stranger.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, Li Feng answered “Of course, Sect Leader.” He nodded, not noticing anything odd, except over the next month, he realised they were treating him distantly, he couldn’t share with them what was on his mind, nor any of his opinions, being met with “As Sect Leader wishes.” Was Yu Ziyuan right? Was he the one lacking in communication? But he never had Changze misunderstand him...

In his state, he did not notice rumours spreading about how Jiang Fengmian did not like Yu Ziyuan because he was ‘still in love with another woman’.

Most of time was spent busy with his work, not knowing how to face her again, days became months, he would sometimes reminisce over his past times, feeling guilt weighing him down and pain in his chest, there no reason for him to feel anything out of the ordinary, until one day, when he was sitting in his room while looking down at his garden, the flowers did not bloom, he thought, and he felt a wave of coldness wash over him

Thinking how the once lively Lotus Pier turned into a place of coldness for him, his wife refused to talk to him, his aides and friends looked at him with judgement in their eyes, and then the pain increased unnaturally, until he couldn’t help but take in deep breaths helping to no avail, and then he coughed.

He coughed and coughed until he could feel his lungs bleed and he tasted metal on his tongue, until he could feel thorns scratching his throat as he choked with panic overtaking him, barely able to breath he vomited, instead of feeling his blanket get wet from what he thought was bile, he opened his eyes to be greeted by flowers, lots of carnations, stargazer lilies and purple hyacinths mixed together, covered in blood and vines.

He laughed, he had not laughed since the day he got married to Yu Ziyuan, he laughed and laughed bitterly, tears forming in his eyes, he felt so alone, he thought ‘how good would it be if I could just leave?’, at least, he thought between breaths, at least they are alright, it had been a long time since he had heard from his friends.

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

A year had passed just like that, Yu Ziyuan’s angry scornful comments continued any time he so much as tried to speak to her that he gave up trying, his aides while weren’t exactly the same with him anymore, he did catch them staring at him with concern sometimes, few reassurances had them going back to work.

Hearing knocking at the door, with Yu Ziyuan’s “It’s me”, exhaustion filled him, and his heart skipped a beat with fear, of course it wasn’t that he was afraid of her, but her reaction, her words if she knew, he glanced once at the hiding place of the book and got up to open the door, tired as he did not want to face more of her tirades or whatever she wanted from him.

She walked in, eyes roaming over his room and sat on the edge of his bed, “Fengmian” she began, and he took a deep breath, she wanted to ask for something when she spoke like that, “What is it Third-Lady?” he asked, a bit resigned.

“The people have been talking.” She said a bit curtly, that phrase always sent his thoughts back to when they first talked, and since whenever she uttered it, it was almost always followed by anger, he did not like it at all.

Though reluctant, he still asked weakly “About what, Third-Lady?” she looked away. “Heirs” With that one word, he felt a surge of that unpleasant coldness forming in the pit of his stomach. “‘Heirs?’” he repeated, he had known that one day he would have to consummate their relationship, and he had foolishly avoided it being brought up, with what reason could he deny this?

“Make up your mind, people have been talking, how Fengmian has not touched his wife since her arrival.” She said, turning to look at her, the violet of her eyes made him sick, his thoughts filled with the purple hyacinths covered in blood, he felt breath come short to his lungs. “Give me time, Third-Lady.” He whispered weakly, and winced when he realised it was the wrong thing to say as her expression twisted.

“Do you hear yourself? Always ‘give me time’ whenever I ask you for something, haven’t I given you enough time to come to yourself? Always dazed nowadays!” She snapped and he flinched, “Third-Lady no! I-” She interrupted “Don’t speak over me!” She got up, and walked closer to him, prompting him to take a step back.

“You, always yearning for your beloved it it?” She sniffed and he felt his heart drop, she couldn’t possibly have known, he went alone and- “You...you had people following me??” He whispered, angered, afraid, he did not know what he was feeling, except that he wanted to be far far away from her. Were it the people he once called his aides?

“Does it matter? Who knows when you’d meet up with that wh-” He slammed his hand on the door “Third-Lady, please leave.” He said taking in deep breaths to keep the pain at bay, “Just go” He added when a look of anger overcame her yet again “Fengmian you-” he didn’t let her speak. “You want heirs? Heirs right? Let's talk about that later, out” He pointed to the door, she bit her lips but ultimately left, knowing her words wouldn’t be needed any more having accomplished what she came for.

He closed the door and tried to move to the inside of the room, where he coughed, coughed until blood poured down his mouth, blood until the purple flowers fell from his mouth, it was getting worse than before, he huffed and washed clean the blood, washed cleaned the flowers, a drawer he opened, entirely filled with violet flowers, a reminder of the fool he had been.

He sat on his knees as he stared them, despair heavy on his face, “Ah Changze, what am I supposed to do?”

So, they shared the moment of what should have been their wedding night, he left as soon as morning came, with the urge to vomit yet again at his throat, and it was not entirely due to the diseases spike, he would hope that was the one and only moment time they would ever have to take part in matrimonial duties, for her cutting words didn’t ever seem to hold back, no matter the occasion.

Months passed and confirmation came that she was with child, it was a relief to him, less about acquiring an heir and more not having to deal with the woman, except in her state she was more unbearable than ever but he couldn’t say anything, for he would be met with her rant of “You did this to me!” From her, he fulfilled her every wish, but he couldn’t think to be with her in the same room for more than a few minutes, without bile rising to his throat.

But when the day of the birth came, he sat as she held his arm, as she screamed in pain, that was the least he could do as her husband, suppressing all moments of disgust he felt upon her touch, and after hours and hours, he got to hold his daughter while her mother took rest, and his heart filled with love, his little one, she was his dearest child, Jiang Yanli.

For a few days, things seemed better, Yu Ziyuan seemed to hold back on her anger, he assumed she had been happy as well, how wrong he had been, when she came to him and spoke about betrothal with her Sworn Sister, Madam Jin of Jin Sect, and he felt disbelief coursing his veins and it was the first time he truly raised his voice at her. “No.” he said firmly, no matter how much she yelled or screamed, he refused.

He had said, “Her marriage will done with her own choice, no matter what.” he thought later that had been a mistake, because Yu Ziyuan started to arrange play-dates between Yanli and the Jin heirs son, he still refused, until Jiang Yanli herself came to him, claiming she loved the boy she saw but barely knew anything of, if she did, she would have seen the disdain the boy held for prospect of marriage, the same disdain he saw in Yu Ziyuan.

The woman came to him again, “A-Li likes him, or are you going to deny what you had said?” He wanted to argue, Yanli was barely old enough to understand but knowing Yu Ziyuan, he knew there was no way she would give up, so he agreed, hoping to break it off later in the future, when Yanli was old enough to understand, his daughter would know that there was no love lost between her and the boy.

Until her 3rd birthday, when it became more and more obvious that Yanli could not form a core, and Yu Ziyuan’s anger burned again, he tried to keep Yanli around him more than her, but when she came asking to talk to her daughter, as her mother, he could not refuse, his daughter usually looked down instead of looking at her.

One of those days, when Yu Ziyuan had come to ask, Jiang Yanli held tightly on his clothes and looked at him with her light coloured eyes, Ziyuan’s purple reminded him of poison, of those hyacinths in his lungs, and Yanli’s reminded him of those purple lotuses, that he had grown with love, he made an excuse, and the woman huffed away, “Fine, send her over later then.” He did not, “She was tired.” He said calmly, when Yu Ziyuan later yelled at him.

They had to share the bed once more when the question of heirs was brought up, and he had spent the rest of the day in his room, vomiting, sick to his stomach, both the blood and the food, for the first time since Yanli’s birth. As usual, he cleaned up without letting anyone know.

Nearing the evening, he heard a light knock at his door. “Father?” He heard, Yanli call out, he got up to open the door, and invited his little daughter in, “Father’s not well?” she questioned as she climbed up onto his lap, he patted her head lovingly. “Father is okay. A-Li does not have to worry, but he wonders what has she been doing? I saw her go to the kitchen earlier today.” He pretended to be puzzled.

“A-Li learnt how to make soup from Old Fa!” She said excitedly, holding her hands together. “But Mother says its a servant’s job, she doesn’t like it.” She wilted and he looked at her directly. “Father would love to eat a-li’s soup.” She looked at him hopefully, “I know it’d taste delicious!” She cheered up.

“I made it for father today.” She ran out and came back with a bowl filled with what was..the soup. He drank it anyway and gave a strained smile, “Could use a little less salt” He choked out, and her smile was worth it.

Weeks passed peacefully, he was with Yanli in the kitchen, watching as Old Fa taught her how to knead, cooking was one of the few things that brought a smile to her face, seeing her so excited, he relaxed as well, until Yu Ziyuan joined them, he hadn’t expected her to, given her mindset of it being a servants job, “A-Li you’re doing it wrong.” She said after watching her for a moment, in the same tone of voice as she used when training disciples.

“A-Xuan won’t like it if all you can do is cook, come with me to the training grounds.” She said, he cut her off “A-Li doesn’t have to do everything for him.” And Yu Ziyuan turned to him “If you want her to do a servant job then that's on you, she’s my daughter too, and as the daughter of Violet Spider, she should be able to fight! Not partaking in these weak acts-” He cut her off “Third Lady! Control your words!”

Before he could say more, soft sniffles cut him off, he looked at his daughter, her hands still inside the dough, tears she was trying to wipe on her shoulder, “Third-Lady is not allowed in the kitchen anymore.” He said and watched Old Fa escort her out, not before Yu Ziyuan shouted, “You cannot keep me from training my daughter!” She yelled as if he had ordered her banishment instead.

“No one is keeping you, if you have nothing good to say to a-li, it's better if you stay away from her, Third-Lady, take the day to cool off” He nodded towards the door, “Fine! If you want your daughter to be a weak-” he cut her off “Third-Lady! Leave.” She threw one last look at them and left fuming.

He knelt next to his daughter, pulled her into a hug. “A-Li is sorry Father!” She sobbed, and rubbed her back “A-Li doesn’t have to be sorry, a-li’s mother should be saying sorry.”

“Mother says father doesn’t like a-li” She said after calming down a bit “Because a-li looks like her mother-” he pulled back to look at her in the eye and enunciated his every word, “A-Li is not her mother, a-li is my beloved daughter, and I love everything a-li does” He told her comfortingly.

“A-Li is not weak, a-li is peaceful, there is strength in nurturing and kindness.” Yanli finally seemed to calm down, hiccuping but not sobbing anymore, he wiped her tears away and smiled “Father loves a-li a lot.” he said as he kissed the top of her head.

---------

And then the day came when Yanli’s little sibling came into the world, accompanied by just as much of screaming, but less hours lost, Yanli cooed over her little brother, a tiny little thing in her mother’s arms, she reached out and lightly pressed his cheek, “So small.” Her father chuckled and said “A-Li was also this small when she was born.” Yu Ziyuan showed a rare smile as well, “His name will be Jiang Cheng.” She said.

Things went a bit smoothly after that, even though Ziyuan was the same as always Yanli his beloved daughter was eight years old, and his son, Jiang Cheng was four, his core formed well and he thought Yu Ziyuan had been happy, so he had not expected when she was walked into his room and started yelling,

“Why are you ostracising your son!? Yanli’s going to be married into Jin Sect and yet you spend time coddling her! And you don’t spend the same amount of time with your son?”

He really hadn’t expected her random onslaught, nor where she was coming from, his son was working hard, and he had overlooked his training personally, teaching him the Jiang teachings along with Yu Ziyuan’s own training. “Oh is it because I’m his mother? Because you cannot handle seeing your own son when you want to see a son with her-” Where was she coming from, he felt horrified, “Third-Lady! What’re you saying!?”

The door swung open and their son, Jiang Cheng stood shocked, scared at being caught and tears in his eyes, before he ran away. He turned to her disgust forming heavy, before leaving her where she stood spluttering how she didn’t mean for him to hear her.

He found his son sobbing as Yanli comforted him in his room. “Mother doesn’t mean it.” Yanli told him as she rubbed his back, “She loves you.” He only sobbed louder, “But she’s right, Father likes you more because he hates me. He likes that boy more-” Yanli looked as if she didn’t know what to say, and Fengmian felt confused, who were they talking about?

“No, I absolutely, do not.” He said and his children froze and turned to him, “You do! Why do you make me work more than everyone else!?” His son got up, and lightly started punching him from where he reached his knees while he sobbed, Jiang Fengmian, placed a hand on his shoulder, suppressing the pain in his heart and lungs.

“Because A-Cheng is going to be the Sect Leader, A-Cheng needs to be strong.” He said evenly as his son shook his head. “That’s not what you said to Jie!” and ran to his bed, “A-Cheng listen-” His son turned to look at him with anger “If you did then you wouldn’t have that disease!”

Jiang Fengmian stared at him, too shocked to feel anything. How? Or Why? Did she tell them that?! How did she even- his thoughts cut off as he thought back, if she could send people tailing him, what couldn’t she do?

He looked at his daughter who avoided his gaze, “A-Li?” she answered silently “Mother said Father would replace him for-” She frowned, trying to remember a name, “‘Wei Ying’, the son of your-” She sneaked a peak at him “Your ‘beloved’.” And looked away, as if feeling guilt.

“A-Li, no, I love you both, how can she-” Yanli nodded, “I know that you love us, but A-Cheng thinks Father doesn’t like him because of Mother…” she hesitated. “And that you regret it wasn’t someone else, instead.”

He regretted, he regretted letting his children near Yu Ziyuan’s poisonous words, but the only regret was Yu Ziyuan, not his love for his children, it was not something he would ever regret, he didn’t even know Wei Changze had a son.

“A-Li” He began gently, knowing A-Cheng was listening when his shaking under the blanket stopped, “They were my friends, like you and-” He thought for a second, “-like you and A-Cheng, we grew up together but they were my friends, and you’re my children, I love you both.” He kissed the top of her head and her shoulders dropped in what could only be relief, and reached up to pat Jiang Cheng’s head under the blanket, and left them for a moment.

He knocked on Yu Ziyuan’s door, only to find it open and empty, he walked inside and opened the cabinets and drawers until he found what he was looking for, for her to know she must have- and there they were.

Pages over pages, written in a familiar writing, ranging from containing details of travels, requesting permission to visit, to mentions of ‘Wei Ying’s’ birth, he felt tears form in his own eyes, with his heart filled with overwhelming pain and indignation, he now understood her random bursts, they were each time a letter was received, over jealousy-

Before he could go out and confront her, the pain in his lungs became unbearable, he choked and coughed, no matter how much he tried to restrain it, he coughed until he collapsed to his knees, why now? His body heated up feeling thorns tear at this lungs and throat.

He could barely breath as he vomited, vision fading from the corner of his eyes, he was confused until he caught a look of the flowers he coughed, pure black roses mixed with the hyacinths, the rose thorns dripping with blood, no sign of lilies and carnations, his heart and soul filled with agony and he cried, and then he knew nothing more.

When he woke up, he felt nothing, he knew he hated Yu Ziyuan, but he felt nothing but blank emptiness, when he stared at the woman standing at the door, his children on either side of his bed. “Oh good, that you’re awake.” She hissed as if he was an inconvenience and he found no rage, and he nodded calmly instead.

He knew his friends had passed but he did not, could not feel grief, he knew he loved his children, so he reached out with both his hands, patting them as they muttered apologies while sobbing. “It wasn’t your fault, father was a bit sad, and was already sick, but he’s well now.” He said gently, and once the children left, he looked at the woman who was his wife and said “I’ll bring A-Ying back.”

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Authors note

Jfm knew he cared for Wei Ying, yet he felt nothing.

He knew he loved his children, he felt nothing,

He knew he hated his wife, yet he felt, nothing.

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So yesterday i was looking through @angstymdzsthoughts and came across platonic hanahaki and thought hey sounds angsty, and thought ‘hey what if jfm had platonic hanahaki for cangse sanren and wei changze?’ i deliberately tried to keep it ambiguous which one he was in love with XD Madam Yu kept assuming and he didn’t give a fuk about correcting her, also like i couldnt bring myself to even write them spending the night together idk y, took a lot of effort lol. Started out with thinking hanaki, got more of JFM’s descent to feeling nothing oof.

Also like it turned out more focus on the fact that even before wwx was brought to lp, there would still be yzy biching and making everyone miserable so-

#mdzs #jiang fengmian #yu ziyuan #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #platonic hanahaki #wei wuxian #worked on typos yet again #wei changze #cangse sanren #my writing #prompted by angstymdzsthoughts post

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edenmemes · 4 years ago

Text

assassin’s creed valhalla starters

words within ‘()’ are additional, optional choices! more maybe to be added at a later date. some n/sfw present.

❝ you should see the other man. he got the worst of it. ❞ ❝ and who better to lead us to glory than me? ❞ ❝ i am most at home helping others. ❞ ❝ i’ve waited long enough for you, and you for me. ❞ ❝ thank you for not saying anything about my past. ❞ ❝ know that however far away, you’re always in my thoughts. ❞ ❝ when you see your god, tell them i sent you. ❞ ❝ what you make up in muscles, you’re lacking in spine. ❞ ❝ i almost envy you, to see the world through such a muddy glass and live with such petty concerns. ❞ ❝ i smell the stink of a dozen kingdoms in your beard. ❞ ❝ this feud is not yours, yet you fight it all the same. i find that strange. ❞ ❝ by the look on your face, you have lost your will to live. ❞ ❝ my arms are numb from battle. does it need any dressing? do you think it is a serious wound? ❞ ❝ oh dear. this is not how i foresaw things. not at all! ❞ ❝ should we take this to your chamber? ❞ ❝ i want this. i want you. ❞ ❝ turn around, walk away, and you keep your insides inside. ❞ ❝ stay back! back! i will fight you! ❞ ❝ you look like reddened shit. what happened? ❞ ❝ i have always wanted to experience the world as you do. ❞ ❝ you come like a valkyrie out of a fog. but i have no dead to give you. ❞ ❝ all right, stay close and do as i do. ❞ ❝ home. or...it was home, once. now it is nothing but bone. ❞ ❝ i’ll have no qualms wiping clean your grin. ❞ ❝ just take care. such hatred can make you careless. ❞ ❝ away from your table for a day and you are already lusting for blood. ❞ ❝ if i did not know any better, i would say you are teasing me. ❞ ❝ the dream of new lands is a powerful lure. ❞ ❝ i love climbing up here. makes me feel as high as a raven. ❞ ❝ if i don’t find your horse, i will steal you a new one. ❞ ❝ i feel somewhat trapped. in this room, in this settlement, in this life. ❞ ❝ you are lost in a sea-storm of your own making. ❞ ❝ the poet in you sings once again. ❞ ❝ tonight, we will eat and drink like gods and wake in a kingdom made new. ❞ ❝ i wish i understood you better. for those i do not understand, i do not trust. (and i cannot stomach a lack of trust.) ❞ ❝ i’ve been called worse. ❞ ❝ you have nothing to fear from me. i bear you no ill will. ❞ ❝ you are a shadow of your father. weak and witless. ❞ ❝ what is this? is this...are we in hell? ❞ ❝ keep company with kings and you will soon have a crown of your own. ❞ ❝ a toothless cub may grow to be a dangerous wolf. ❞ ❝ you are far too young to speak so wise. ❞ ❝ i need clear, sound judgement. i need you. ❞ ❝ kind and courageous people live the best lives, but it can be a difficult path to keep. ❞ ❝ i want to say...i love you. and i have for some time. ❞ ❝ you smell that? the stink of jealousy. (of our budding friendship, i think). ❞ ❝ ah, while i have you, i’m reminded...i have this for you. ❞ ❝ your lies are just like you. big and bold. ❞ ❝ don’t excuse yourself. you enjoy this too much. ❞ ❝ you've come back. why are you wasting your time with me? ❞ ❝ care to sing a song? helps me pass the time. ❞ ❝ that is twice you have earned my admiration. ❞ ❝ you have only the setting sun to tell you when to stop. ❞ ❝ i want to know what you know. name your price. ❞ ❝ people like you deserve something worse than death. ❞ ❝ they called me a lout, a disgrace. they were right. ❞ ❝ i will have to get used to watching the sights of war from afar now. ❞ ❝ there’s no other way. fight or hide. it’s up to you. ❞ ❝ do not think me a coward. i am not afraid of war. ❞ ❝ friendships end. often at the point of a spear. ❞ ❝ i will make you beg as your father begged. ❞ ❝ (until that time,) it would be best to keep all discussions about... about us to yourself. ❞ ❝ without you i would have lost my way a thousand times. ❞ ❝ you have no other friends. so tread lightly here. ❞ ❝ be it a blessing or a curse, family is always first. ❞ ❝ let’s not walk too far with that idea. i need you right where you are. ❞ ❝ you bested me. yet, i’m the one left standing. ❞ ❝ it’s a pleasure to meet you at least. ❞ ❝ you and your people here have done more for me than i could ever repay. ❞ ❝ you have my highest respect, regard, and trust. ❞ ❝ you’re not shy, are you? ❞ ❝ if we do this, you’ll earn the right to call me friend ten-thousand fold. ❞ ❝ does this have the stench of betrayal to you? ❞ ❝ today has meant so much. we rode, we fought, we drank, we laughed. (you showed me your world.) ❞ ❝ your end was written the moment you came for me. ❞ ❝ i am a sellsword. i ask what i please, and i take what i’m owed. ❞ ❝ you move and i will take your eyes. you hear me? ❞ ❝ i will leap first. on my word, you must follow. ❞ ❝ many times i wished to tell you. wished to say what was in my heart and what i desired. (but duty kept me from it.) ❞ ❝ these wounds will heal quickly. you’re lucky. ❞ ❝ anything to help you feel at home. ❞ ❝ our friendship is the best thing to come from this mess. ❞ ❝ you will be remembered for this, for years to come. ❞ ❝ i thought i had lost you. for good this time. ❞ ❝ you have shown me a great kindness. it is only fitting that i do the same. ❞ ❝ the mess you’re in...you don’t know the half of it. ❞ ❝ you have drawn a dark conclusion about me, haven’t you? (that is all well and good. i’ve drawn some about you as well.) ❞ ❝ you seem...strangely familiar. ❞ ❝ here i am, an upright man who never once learned how to bend the knee. and yet...i shall try. ❞ ❝ that’s a bread knife. do you mean to butter me? ❞ ❝ is that not something you worry over? ❞ ❝ a blind pursuit of vengeance has made you predictable. ❞ ❝ no matter where you are, or how far you travel, i will hunt you down. ❞ ❝ i came for you, looking for a friend and ally. ❞ ❝ people change. it may be that you change with them, or you go your separate ways. ❞ ❝ i wish you whatever peace you may find in this new life you’ve found. ❞ ❝ i want your word: you will follow my orders. ❞ ❝ the day is new, and the air is bracing. are you ready for the fight ahead? ❞ ❝ er...good to meet you as well? ❞ ❝ what riches are worth so much misery, and the deaths of honorable men and women? ❞ ❝ my destiny is mine to weave. ❞ ❝ my road forward has been a muddy one. slick with blood and tears. (but we can reach its end together.) ❞ ❝ it is a wise leader who considers the needs of others. ❞ ❝ i think my mouth has gotten me in enough trouble today. ❞ ❝ at the end of all things, you will find yourself with nothing but your regrets. ❞ ❝ you saw fit to keep me guessing through your fits of madness. ❞ ❝ by all the gods, what was that? ❞ ❝ i was...restless. a quiet walk alone clears the head. ❞ ❝ when winter is past, summer will come and wind you in a flowered skirt, for you are beauty and shall not wither. ❞ ❝ ...unless you had a more interesting day planned for us? ❞ ❝ i do hope you see it now, for all you have done for me. ❞ ❝ your passion, your strength. i have never met such a burning soul. ❞ ❝ i have no guilt nor regret for what we have done, but we should be careful. ❞ ❝ i see before me a person full of passion, vigor, and a love for their people. ❞ ❝ if i wanted to hear you talk shit, i’d cut out your tongue and shove it up your ass. ❞ ❝ you! you look stronger than most of the others. ❞ ❝ your hatred for me burns bright. i could warm my balls on it. ❞ ❝ you’re quite like your arms: incredibly thick. ❞ ❝ i fought as i do, as hard as i do, to survive. (for i know what awaits us in the end. only darkness.) ❞ ❝ a shameful trick. you are your father’s child. ❞ ❝ you destroyed my life. i will take yours. ❞ ❝ you snore a little, like a wounded bear. ❞ ❝ that’s when i knew i would live and die for you. ❞ ❝ i’m going to pretend your last words were taken by the wind. ❞ ❝ i might still kill you yet, if your prattling doesn’t cease. ❞ ❝ you are weak like your father was weak. (you dance better than you fight.) ❞ ❝ have you ever seen muscles as massive as mine? ❞ ❝ i’m honored by your faith in me. and your confidence. ❞ ❝ after my missteps, i worry what you must think of me. ❞ ❝ with so much blood in the water and death in the air, i’d like to know your name and purpose. ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling about this place. ❞ ❝ you helped me reclaim what i had lost in myself. ❞ ❝ you speak of honor. where’s yours? ❞ ❝ you will throw away all reason to defend what you sworn to. ❞ ❝ you really are like a hero out of folk tales. ❞ ❝ how much would you sacrifice to be freed of fate’s shackles? (would you give your tongue, your hand, your sight?) ❞ ❝ there’s no power strong enough to do what you say. ❞ ❝ please, you must fight for me. who knows what vile people might come to harm me? ❞ ❝ i have no need to count my kills. they number too many. ❞ ❝ i appreciate you for all of your qualities. ❞ ❝ not even the gods can change fate. ❞ ❝ i think it is time i take my leave. ❞ ❝ you really thought my life was in danger? (and you risked your own life...) ❞ ❝ the path ahead is bright, with glory at its end. ❞ ❝ it is easy to lose one's way on the road to glory. do not let false victories blind you to what is true. ❞ ❝ the act of leaving so beloved a home, there is a sadness to it. ❞ ❝ so there’s nowhere...you call home? ❞ ❝ all things end. ruins are not a warning, they are a testament. ❞ ❝ be nice to sleep in a real bed when this is over. ❞ ❝ in my sleep i dream. and in my dreams i see an end to the doom that will grip the earth once again. ❞ ❝ even when we win, we lose. ❞ ❝ i am as good with my lips, as i am with my tongue. ❞ ❝ is this your idea of a pleasant ride through the country? ❞ ❝ no whispering god brought me here. i brought myself. ❞ ❝ i would like very much to pass some time with you. ❞ ❝ ...and that’s how i got that scar. ❞ ❝ do i now haunt your dreams? ❞ ❝ it was never in their character to lead, it was always within yours. ❞ ❝ so easily wounded by words. imagine the ruin my axe would inflict on your flaccid ego. ❞ ❝ i have felt this way for some time now. i care for you. ❞ ❝ i have not felt safe since then. not really. ❞ ❝ how long have you been chasing me? seventeen winters? eighteen? ❞ ❝ you are not always to be trusted. your passions overcome you. ❞ ❝ i like you. you may help me here or step on me...and by the look of you i’d welcome either. ❞ ❝ it is good to have you in this fight. ❞ ❝ you need only know my impressive scale and flawless build. ❞ ❝ i am better than any man here. ❞ ❝ i can tell by looking at you, you are not a great warrior. (you know it too, there is no reason to deny this.) ❞ ❝ i am looking for honor, and have become lost as a result. ❞ ❝ many apologies. you are no child, simply a frail and fully-grown fool. ❞ ❝ i was stupid, selfish, reckless, blind, boneheaded, and i smell like blood and shit. ❞ ❝ anything to say for the mess you led us to? ❞ ❝ how was your...first kill? ❞ ❝ you squirm like that and my axe will miss your neck! unpleasant for both of us. ❞ ❝ i know you would defy me to the death, fighting for a glorious end. that i will not allow. ❞ ❝ most men choose to be loud or stupid. impressive, that you managed both. ❞ ❝ you are a great warrior. conquerer of this land and that of your birth. ❞ ❝ you’re chasing shadows like a madman howling at the moon! ❞ ❝ quite a hit you took. how many were lost? ❞ ❝ well fought! even if your wits were somewhat rattled. ❞ ❝ we suffered no losses in this fight, and the men who humiliated us are dead. what is there to say? ❞ ❝ i would like to be close to you. ❞ ❝ if you are a warrior with honor running like sunlight in your veins, then you may help me fulfill my destiny. ❞ ❝ you are a long way from any warm hearth, warrior. Is this where you call home? ❞ ❝ am i to go the rest of my days without love or attention? i think not. ❞ ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞ ❝ the others, they are like clubs. blunt and ungainly, you are nimble, like a knife. ❞ ❝ people with eyes that gleam like yours are always up to something more. ❞ ❝ only a fool stays awake all night worrying. you are tired when you get up, and the problem is still not solved. ❞ ❝ i liked you from the first. i saw something in you that captivated me. (as if a forgotten memory of an old friendship had suddenly resurfaced.) ❞ ❝ you've done nothing but give me your blind word! ❞ ❝ did you bring me any treasure? ❞ ❝ the woodsmoke from your firepit does sting the eyes. but the warmth is welcome. ❞ ❝ it is not something i can speak on. or wish to. ❞ ❝ i'm with you. only say the word. ❞ ❝ until we cut off this serpent's head, it will poison us, day by day, drop by drop. ❞ ❝ get some rest and return here at first light. ❞ ❝ i missed having you at my side. how i wished i could have taken you along on my travels. ❞ ❝ i do not like this, but i will not stop you. ❞ ❝ i have waited too many years for this day. when ___ stands before us, give me the final blow. ❞ ❝ why do you carry such a useless burden? let it go. ❞ ❝ i have waited years for this, but i will not risk losing it through rashness. ❞ ❝ i cannot fathom your game. you are either a young fool...or deceptively wise. ❞ ❝ your confidence blinds you to so much in plain sight. ❞ ❝ it’s good to be here, with you and your people. (i feel my life has found a new road.) ❞ ❝ there has always been war, even among the gods. ❞ ❝ my honor has been stained. until it's wiped clean, i want nothing else. ❞ ❝ i lack the patience for pole fishing. i would have better luck with my bow. ❞ ❝ if we tell all our stories, we’ll be here for a week. ❞ ❝ can you teach me the art of archery? ❞ ❝ bury the past. build the future. ❞ ❝ i missed you. your clear head and your courage. (we have not had enough of both in recent months.) ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling this war is near its end. ❞ ❝ explain in plain words why you have willfully disobeyed my commands. (do you mock me?) ❞ ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞ ❝ my love for you rises tall and strong, like the tree of life. ❞ ❝ the prize is some of my time. (a walk in nature, maybe more if that is where our conversation takes us.) ❞ ❝ together, we are unstoppable. ❞ ❝ it is natural to fear change. to resist it. (but all things change, and all things end.) ❞ ❝ you said nothing of this to me, not a word. ❞ ❝ so long as men and women fight to secure honor and freedom, their allegiance hardly matters to me. ❞ ❝ i care for you. i do not know how to say it any other way. ❞ ❝ love can burn brighter near death. ❞ ❝ i knew this would be difficult, but sometimes the weight bears down heavily. ❞ ❝ you are young and still foolish, so i will spare you your life. (but cross me again or harm anyone i cherish, and you will join your friends in hell.) ❞ ❝ if you are as brave as you appear, you will come. ❞ ❝ this is not a natural quiet. it's as if a curse has befallen this place. ❞ ❝ there was a curse here long before i came along. ❞ ❝ we’ll forge a warrior from your softness, hammered on the anvil of war. ❞ ❝ you are different than the kind my flights of fancy attract. burdened, decorated and…delicate. ❞ ❝ i do not know what else to say. m-my memories are faint, hazy. ❞ ❝ how are you doing? you survived a serious blow. ❞ ❝ we’ll weave our sagas together, thread upon thread. ❞ ❝ i try to use my knowledge to help others. i am only a threat to those who fear the unknown. ❞ ❝ slap some moss on that gash and wrap it well. ❞ ❝ a knife to the back is a wound that never heals. ❞ ❝ with me you have wisdom! glory! power! what more do you need? ❞ ❝ if your hell is real, i’m glad you’ll get to see it. ❞ ❝ to fight beside such legends is an honor. (i've only heard tales of your conquests. now i get to live them.) ❞ ❝ i have tried to live well. it is enough that the gods know that. ❞ ❝ a cloud hangs over you. is something wrong? ❞ ❝ you have plunged my city into chaos. ❞ ❝ my sword is gore-greedy. i am ready to fight. ❞ ❝ accept your fate and die a coward, here before your people... and i will spare the rest. ❞ ❝ you would take the rescue for yourself, so the victory song is written about you? ❞ ❝ kneel, and i will spare your life. ❞ ❝ it has been some time. what brings you so far to see me? ❞

#rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #long post for ts /

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Note

I would like a request for Steve Demon, something very dark and hot, thank you! 😈❤️

Hi darling! Thank you for your patience 🙏💖 This story was inspired by Slavic witch legends and VN Demonheart!

Oh, my love, don't forsake me

Pairing: demon!Steve Rogers x witch!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, dark magic, dubcon, witch!Nakia, mentions of violence.

Words: 1670.

___________________

You remembered your first encounter with him well. It had been your first Walpurgis Night when Nakia presented you to a coven: you had been taken through an initiation ritual to become a true witch, and all of you danced and drank and laughed, jumping through grand fire and burning your clothes till you all had been naked, only jewelry - necklaces, earrings and bracelets - left on your bodies.

It was then when demons had arrived, many of them flying directly to their witches and starting dancing with them, picking them up and letting them ride them high up in the sky as if they were horned horses, and you froze on your spot, watching their red bodies glowing.

"You will choose your demon lover today." Nakia whispered to you, smiling to her own mighty demon, his shoulders wide and muscular, his gaunt wings so large he could cover ten people with each. "There are several of those who are free."

"Today?" You asked her nervously, watching those demons without a witch on their backs. "But I thought I would be given time to let them know better."

You knew no one but Nakia, and the thought of choosing your demon right this very moment seemed a bit frightening to you. The witch was choosing her demon lover for eternity - unless both her and him would decide to separate, but it was highly unlikely as the bond they built had always been hard to break. How could you do it without knowing a demon first? Today you could make the worst mistake in your entire life - and afterlife, considering that your soul would travel back to Hell with your demon by your side.

"Don't fret over little things." The witch flashed you a wide smile, her flawless skin glowing softly in the dim light coming from the fire meters away from you. "You will be fine. Look at them! Who is the one you want the most?"

She motioned to the demons flying up in the air, their wings flapping, and you realized you could actually see what was beneath the loincloth of some of them, your face growing unbearably hot. How indecent! Why didn't they wear something more concealing?

"Because they are showing new witches what they got to offer." Your mentor laughed at your bemused expression, and you chuckled, thinking how you were standing naked in front of them with just a think golden necklace on, the only valuable jewelry you had. "Don't be shy, dear. Look, look at them! Ask me if you see someone attractive, and I will tell you everything I know."

Oh dear, it was probably the most embarrassing thing you had ever done, but you couldn't miss your only opportunity to know more about your future lover. Besides, you didn’t become a witch to spend your days caring about morals and decency, did you? You were going to sin till the very end of your life, and today could be a nice starting point. In the end, a physical body and all its parts were nothing to be ashamed of.

Watching several men, their skin scarlet, floating above the grand fire and laughing along the other couples, you tried focusing on those who you thought looked the strongest and sheepishly whispering to Nakia. You felt a little distressed her own lover had to wait for you, but the demon only grinned at you, baring his pearly white teeth, and bowed his head a little, visibly agreeing to wait longer. Maybe they weren’t all as scary as you imagined? You certainly hoped so, pointing to several demons and asking your mentor about them.

“This one? This is Tony, he’s a clever but vicious sort.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Turning her face to you, Nakia gently caressed your head as if you were her child. “No, darling. Not to us. But you are right, I doubt Tony would be the right choice for you. Maybe young Peter? It is his first Walpurgis Night, but he’s of age. Or Brock, that demon over there? Oh no, look at this ruthless barbarian...”

However, before you had time to look at the man she had pointing at, another demon suddenly crossed your way, and you stilled when he looked directly at you, his large crimson wings blocking the view for both Nakia and you. He stood out from the crowd with his glowing golden hair and immense wings that were bigger than even Nakia’s lover, and you frown when the demon landed on his goat hooves, aggressively ripping his loincloth away and baring his flesh in front of you. Your face grew hot at his shameless display, and searched for your mentor’s hand, clutching it in yours like a child, truly. What was that? Did you make the demon upset? Had you broken some rule you didn’t know about?

Nervously glancing at Nakia’s lover you saw him distressed, too, but he didn’t move further to protect you, standing on his place. Was it because there was no true danger or because he simply couldn’t protect his witch against the monster in front of you?

“Who is he?” Your whisper was barely audible as you trembled, clinging to Nakia, and she wrapped her warm arm around your shoulders, leaning closer to your ear.

“Steven of Triskelion. Do not be scared, my darling, he isn’t here to hurt you. I wonder why he’s courting you so... passionately, though.”

“Courting me?”

“Oh yes, my dear. Look at him, putting himself on display like that for a young witch. His desire for you must be strong.”

Softly waving at her lover and seeing him relaxing, Nakia gently pushed you in front, encouraging you to come closer to the demon whose gaze was so intense you were worried he would make a hole in you. Oh, you needed to talk to him. Probably. You weren’t sure, but by the look on the witch’s face you guessed the demon in front of you wasn’t necessarily a bad choice. Judging by his enormous form and his thick, veiny cock in between his muscled legs, maybe he really weren’t.

Suddenly feeling very self-conscious in front of him, you tried smiling and prevent yourself from covering your body with your hands - he had just shown himself completely naked to you, and it would be disrespectful of you to do otherwise. You certainly didn’t want to upset a demon like him.

“Hello, Sir. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You said politely, hoping he wouldn’t mind the way you talked to him. Should you bow to him? Offer him your hand? Kiss his cheek? No, no, you wouldn’t dare.

For a second you thought he was going to hit you, but you knew a demon would never do that to a witch, especially with a whole coven present. They’d ban him from ever pairing with any of them, stripping him of a possibly ally and lover. Only the most insane demons would try doing something as reckless and disrespectful, but they weren’t allowed to Walpurgis Night celebrations. Thank... Devil?

The demon suddenly chuckled, baring his sharp fangs, “You don’t have to be so polite with me, little witch. I am sorry for intimidating you for it was not my intention. Come closer.”

Liar! He loved the effect he had on you, you didn’t have to get inside his horned head to see it. Was he of patronizing kind? Maybe. It wasn’t the worst one among demons straight from Hell, and you smiled at him, putting your arm in his as he drew you closer to him, his other arm softly cupping your chin. His crimson body was radiating heat, and you enjoyed it when demon made you lean onto his wide chest. Despite being somewhat shy about the whole encounter, you were starting to warming up, demon’s touch having a strange effect on you.

“Allow me to give you this.” The man murmured into your ear, and you felt the heaviness of a string of pearls on your neck, touching it with your fingers and watching the demon with wide eyes.

Of course, you have heard of witches receiving gifts from their demonic lovers, but Steve was still a stranger to you. Was it right to accept something so expensive from him? While you tried looking for Nakia to ask her advice, the demon wrapped his large gaunt wings around you two, preventing you from searching for your friend, and forcefully turned your face to him, claiming your lips as if he wanted to devour you. You had no time to react before his huge tongue got inside your mouth, his clawed hand running up your rib cage and cupping your breasts as you whimpered against him, his body blazing hot. He didn’t give you a second to get accustomed to the kiss before spreading his wings and flapping them as he unceremoniously grabbed you by the hips and flew up, taking you with him. You let out a little mewl, clinging to Steve for life. What was he doing?!

“Don’t be scared, kitten. I’m not asking you to ride on my back just yet.” The demon’s voice was soft, but you could see his grin getting wider, and a part of you was nervous at his somewhat aggressive courting. “But wouldn’t you like it? I can be a powerful ally for a witch and a gentle lover for an innocent kitten like you.”

“Be careful, dear. Steve became bitter after his witch has left him to return to God,” Nakia’s voice said in your head, and you frowned, knowing the demon most certainly heard her, too.

She left him for God? What, how was this even possible?

Demon’s grin turned wicked as he kissed your forehead, getting higher and higher as other demons and witches danced below you. “It’s true, darling. That’s why after you choose me to be your lover I will carve your heart out of your chest and keep it with me.”

_____________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #yandere #captain america #requests #mcu #mcu fanfiction

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literaila · 4 years ago

Text

spiraling out of control

spencer x reader

summary: reader gets into a car accident. i’ll let you assume what happens next....

warnings: mentions of blood, inguries, car crash, angst, fluff, glass, not much else...

There was something in her mouth.

It was poking, intruding into her gums. She could feel it against her teeth, against her tongue.

Brushing, pulling.

Over and over.

Something was wrong.

Something tasted wrong.

She was late. She was running terribly late.

Realistically she knew that Spencer wouldn't be too upset, he was far too kind, far too understanding to really be mad at her. But they’d planned this dinner for weeks, he had planned it around her schedule, she was supposed to be on time.

And he wouldn't be mad. He would probably smile at her, kiss her cheek and tell her it was alright. He would probably say he ordered something for her, but if she wanted something else she could get it. That he was just glad she was there.

But it didn't matter.

She didn't want to disappoint him again.

She was a half an hour away from the restaurant.

Ten minutes until she was supposed to be there.

Her fingers felt numb.

No, not numb. Not completely.

She could feel her fingertips tingling. Could feel the blood rushing in an out and in and out. In. and Out.

They weren't numb.

That had to be a good sign.

Didn't it?

Ten minutes. She had ten minutes to get there.

To make it by 6:00. Maybe 6:05.

She sighed as she pressed further down on the gas.

It made her feel guilty to think about his face when she got there. It made her guilty to think that in ten minutes when she hadn't showed up, he would frown down at his watch. Tell the waiter he was just waiting.

It made her feel guilty to think about the relief.

Because he would be relieved when she showed up.

Relieved.

Like she wasn't going to show up.

She used a hair to brush the hair out of her eyes. Pressed down on the gas a little bit more.

She could smell smoke.

It reminded her of when she was a kid. When there were campfires. When it was cold late at night and the fireplace was ablaze. Reminded her of the way smoke used to get stuck in her eyes.

But right now, she couldn't open her eyes.

She didn't know where the smoke was coming from. Why it smelled like fire.

She thought about all the happy moments filled with smoke.

Campfires, cold nights.

Maybe this could be happy too.

She was always late.

That was the problem.

She was always late to their dinners, their lunches. She was late to showing up at his house, to meeting his friends.

She was never on time, never there when she was supposed to be.

That was the problem.

And Spencer understood that. Sometimes he laughed at her, told her it was fine, that he expected it. He laughed and kissed her head and wrapped a hand around her waist and. He was fine with it.

But she wasn't.

Because sometimes, on very rare occasions, she watched his face fall when she showed up. Watched him smile awkwardly and tense up. And she knew that he wasn't happy. She knew that he was disappointed, that maybe he had miraculously forgotten that she was always late. And she hated it, she hated his tense body language, his quiet way of speaking, his eyes that wouldn't look at her.

She hated it.

And she wouldn't be late this time. She wouldn't be late.

Not this time.

She wanted to see him smile this time.

Faster.

She was five minutes away. She was only five minutes away. She would be there on time. There for him.

Five minutes.

Faster.

Go faster.

too fast.

When the other car hit her, it was too fast. Too fast for her to notice anything. Too fast for her to get control of the car.

Maybe she had tried to hit the breaks before it was too late.

Maybe she had tried.

She couldn't remember.

She couldn't see anything only moments after.

Couldn't see.

It was all too fast.

There was something in her mouth.

It was poking, intruding into her gums. She could feel it against her teeth, against her tongue.

Brushing, pulling.

Over and over.

Something was wrong.

Something tasted wrong.

Her fingers felt numb.

No, not numb. Not completely.

She could feel her fingertips tingling. Could feel the blood rushing in an out and in and out. In. and Out.

They weren't numb.

That had to be a good sign.

Didn't it?

She could smell smoke. Could hear something going on behind her.

It reminded her of when she was a kid. When there were campfires, when there were loud voices, kids played behind her. When it was cold late at night and the fireplace was ablaze. Reminded her of the way smoke used to get stuck in her eyes.

But right now, she couldn't open her eyes.

She didn't know where the smoke was coming from. Why it smelled like fire.

She thought about all the happy moments filled with smoke.

Campfires, cold nights.

Maybe this could be happy too.

That was her last thought before she fell back to sleep.

Y/N was two hours late.

After 45 minutes Spencer started getting worried.

She was late all the time, in fact, tonight he had expected it. But, not this late. 20 minutes? Sure. But never anything beyond a half and hour.

He knew that she tried her best to be on time, he knew that she was getting there as soon as she could. He’d planned for it, knowing her for as a long as he had, he’d planned for it.

But nothing beyond an hour. He hadn't planned for that.

And later, when he had drank two glasses of water, had watched his watch tick tock past eight, when the waiter had kept looking at him with sympathy because he thought that Spencer was getting stood up, to which Spencer had wanted to scream at him that she would be there, that she was just running late.

Later, he had started to get worried.

After an hour, he called, and called. But she wasn't answering, and while he appreciated listening to her soft velvety voicemail, he really wanted to talk to her.

He was supposed to be talking with her, laughing with her.

He’d been excited to see her all day.

They’d been spending too much time apart. Far too much time this week. Only seeing each other for a couple of hours when they caught lunch on Monday and then didn't have any space in the schedule the rest of the week.

He’d asked her to dinner during that lunch.

At 8:06 he called again. He’d decided to leave, throwing a twenty dollar bill on the table in a rush, and walking to the car.

He called, and again, she didn't answer.

He had no idea where she was, no idea why she hadn't shown up, why she hadn't told him she was going to be this late.

He called and felt his heart pound as he heard the soft dial tone, as he listened and waited for the sweet click he was longing for. He would’ve given anything to hear that click.

This was no longer late.

This was missing.

And he never heard that click.

Only her voicemail.

There were lights flashing.

Blinking. Over and over.

She wondered why it hurt so much, why she could barely open her eyes.

She couldn't feel anything.

That had to be bad.

It had to be.

And then she couldn't breathe, she didn't understand, she didn't know what was going on and where that sound was coming from and who was calling her name-

“Y/N, Y/N,”

Stop stop stop stop stop stop.

Stop.

“Spence,” she could hear him now, she could hear him, he was there, he had come for her, oh she hoped he wasn't upset about dinner, she was so late.

“We’ve got you Y/N,”

Spencer. I love.

And the lights were flashing, and she could still smell smoke.

Flashing. In her. Eyes.

She could feel her fingers.

She couldn't feel anything.

She had to get to dinner.

When he’d asked her to dinner, he’d watched her smile.

She’d smiled.

Of course I’d go to dinner.

She’d been laughing.

Why wouldn't I?

She had kissed his cheek. He could still feel it.

Why wouldn't she?

I love you.

Beeping. Over and over.

Everything seemed to be repeating today.

No one called Spencer till the next day.

He’d driven to her apartment. Almost broke down the door in pure desperation.

He called Penelope, and she called Derek and then the two of them had called her, and they’d helped her get the key from her landlord, and even then.

She wasn't there.

She wasn't in her apartment.

She wasn't in her car.

Her car was gone.

Spencer had no idea where she was, if she was okay, if her phone was just off, if she was dead in a ditch somewhere, he didn't know what was happening.

He didn't know why he had this feeling, this terrible feeling in his chest that was telling him that she was gone, she was just gone. Like she’d disappeared out of thin air.

Just

Poof.

Eventually, he had no clue what to do. She was never this late.

Penelope had tried to track her phone. It was off.

And she wasn't home.

And her car wasn't there.

His friends had told him to go to bed. Go to sleep. We’ll look for her in the morning. She’s probably there. She's somewhere.

But neither of them had said anything that could calm him down, that could reassure him that she would be okay. That she was okay.

He sat at his door, his shoes on, keys in his hand. Waiting for his phone to ring.

He knew exactly how many people ran away each year. In each state in America. He knew that there were far too many people that just left, that just disappeared all of the sudden. He knew how many people went missing every day, and he knew that there was a big chance that she could be gone. That something could have happened.

He knew that he was prone to danger and disaster, and that he put her at more risk every moment he spent with her.

And the one thing he didn't know was where she was.

In the morning, his eyes felt like they were being poked at, poked open, poked awake.

He knew that if he closed them for a couple of seconds, only a few, he wouldn't be able to open them. That he would fall asleep right away.

But he wasn't going to do that. Not until he knew where she was.

Eventually, he forced himself to drink a cup of coffee, black. So there was more caffeine. So he could stay awake longer.

It hurt going down but.

Later, after he had practically drowned himself in dread and drank more coffee than he should have, it was then that his phone started to ring.

And immediately he jumped up. He hoped that it was her, that she was finally going to tell him that she was fine, that he would hear her say that she was sorry, that she loved him. He hoped that he could just hear her voice, her laugh, just, just.

But when he picked up the phone, when it finally clicked.

It was only Penelope.

And she was crying.

“Her phone turned on.”

She’d been in a head on collision. The other car had been coming right at her and it was too late for her to hit the breaks. To spiral out of it.

It had taken 45 minutes to get her in the ambulance. 45 minutes.

Spencer had been sitting at their table. Drinking water. Checking his watch. Smiling politely at the people who looked at him curiously.

He’d been at their table while she was being thrown into the back of an ambulance. Rushed to the hospital.

He had been fine.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

She suffered a broken collarbone. The force of her seatbelt pushing her back had been just enough, the doctor said. Just enough to break it. She had whiplash. A major concussion.

And she was going to be in a lot of pain.

These were just words, they were simple, straight to the point. The doctor that said them looked almost bored, almost like her injuries were not exciting enough. And he was just saying words. They were just words.

But, all at once, they were too much.

Spencer had been worried about dinner while his girlfriend had been thrown across the road.

It was all too much.

He had to sit down before he passed out.

He’d never been one to deal with bad news. He was bad at listening to Emily go on about one of her bad dates.

Face a murder? Sure. He could do that.

This? Her?

No. no.

It was too much. Too much.

Derek and Penelope called the rest of his friends, of their friends, called everyone else who might be worried enough about her to care. They dealt with it all, they called while Spencer sat in the waiting room, waiting, waiting, waiting for the doctor to come in and give them good news, he needed good news.

She was going to be fine. Fine, fine fine fine fine.

She was.

He had repeated that. Repeated that and dreamed.

Dreamed of Monday, which before had seemed so long. Monday felt like it was never going to end. But, he could remember those couple of hours when everything was perfect, when he felt like he could get through the week. He remembered the last time they had talked.

He dreamed of her laugh, of her twinkling eyes as they sat on a bench in the park, talking and watching kids play on a nearby playground. She laughed and looked over to time. And she was blushing. And she was far too much for him, she was always too much, but he couldn't seem to stay away, he couldn't seem to get enough.

She had laughed when he’d asked her to dinner. Dinner last night. She’d laughed, said of course, asked him why any sane person would say no.

Why wouldn't I? Have you seen your face?

She’d laughed.

And he’d thought that it would never end. That they would never be done, that he couldn't wait for dinner. He thought that they would do the same thing next week. They should go out to lunch more.

He’d thought so many things.

And then lunch was over, and their breaks were ending, and she was still smiling, almost dancing while she pulled him up off the bench, while she dragged him along to her car. Her car. She danced around and held his hand, and she was so warm.

And she’d whispered goodbye. She’d said I love you. Of course I love you.

And then. She’d gotten in her car. Waving goodbye.

And he could still feel the kiss she’d left on his cheek.

He could still feel the warm breath on his ear. Her soft whispers.

And the dream was over.

Because he’d almost lost her.

She was almost gone, oh god. He’d almost lost her forever. He’d almost lost her. She, she could have been gone and he hadn't even said I love you too, he hadn't even told her that he loved her, he hadn't even said anything as she walked away, as she waved goodbye. And she’d almost.

He couldn't breathe.

The doctor had told them that she’d be fine. That her recovery would be long and rigorous, but she’d be fine eventually.

Fine. She was fine.

But.

Oh god.

They were just words. Just words. Simple. Words. He knew words. He understood everything the doctor was saying. And on a normal day he would ask more questions, he would figure out every detail, show the doctor up. On any normal day he would know far more than that doctor.

But, today, he didn't know anything.

He hadn't seen her yet, and he didn't know anything.

“Is there someone named Spencer you’ve called?”

A nurse appeared out of thin air. Or maybe she’d been there. Spencer didn't know. He couldn't think.

Both Derek and Penelope looked over to him, looked at him while he stared almost comatose at the wall.

“She’s been asking for a ‘Spencer’ since last night. Every time she wakes up.”

And Spencer looked at this nurse, this older woman who looked wise and kind, and was smiling at him like she already knew who he was, like he had already answered.

“Can I go see her?” he asked.

“She's been asking for you.”

Her neck was sore.

And the lights were too bright. Almost like the sun.

But there was no smoke. No flashing.

She could feel her fingers again.

She could open her eyes easier.

She took a deep breath in.

Spencer didn't expect to feel shocked when he saw her. He didn't expect his heart to pound, his brain to throb against his skull, his feet to immediately pause. He didn't expect his eyes to water, his heart to break almost in half, almost like someone had taken a piece of glass and carved it apart. He didn't expect this feeling. This dreadful feeling.

But that was what happened.

She looked so different. So much different than he was used to.

He was almost expecting her to be standing, a smile to be planted on her face, her arms wide open and ready to grab him and never let go.

He was almost expecting her to be okay.

But she wasn't.

Her head was tilted to the side, her cheeks scared by cuts that marked them. She was wearing nothing but a hospital gown, her legs bare. Her shoulder was hidden by a brace.

And she looked so small.

Her eyes were open. Wide. Almost how Spencer remembered them.

“Spence,”

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice surprising him. His eyes scared, his body nervous.

She could see that. All of his emotions raveled up in one package.

But she was just happy to see him.

“Spence,” she said again and smiled.

It wasn't the same smile as before, it was a little more strained, and her voice was tired, almost breathless. But it was enough to hear to her, to see her. It was enough for Spencer.

“I’m so sorry.” he said, walking over like he couldn't move fast enough, cupping her cheek, trying to be gentle, but desperately wanting to hold her in his arms. Just so he knew she was okay.

“I’m a day late.” She whispered, looking up at him.

“I know,” he laughed, relief filling his body. “Don't ever be this late again.” he said, his voice was firm, but all she could hear was his plea, was his unspoken words. All she could hear was the whisper of ‘don't ever scare me like this again’ that followed his words.

“I won't.” She said, playing again, far too glad to see him. “I won't. I promise.”

He kissed her then. Soft, slow. Very peaceful, very longing. Gentle.

She wished he could crawl into the small bed with her, wished that he could just stay with her, for a long time.

It was almost like they were connected. Because he wanted the same.

It was when they were staring at each other, when their friends barged in the room.

Penelope immediately scolded Y/N for hurting herself, told her that she was never going to let her near a car again. That she was going to murder her if she ever tried to disappear again.

Derek laughed and went over to kiss her on the head.

Spencer stood back. Giving them a moment. Letting his brain get used to her. To the idea of her.

He hadn't realized that when he was waiting, worrying, he had tried to prepare himself for the inevitable, tried to prepare himself for her being gone, that she was going to be gone. Just like everything else he loved seemed to be.

And now, after she had proved him wrong once again, he had to get used to her picture in his brain again.

Watching her smile, laugh quietly with their friends. It ceased all his worries, all the things he could possibly worried about.

She was still there.

And the only thing he knew was that he loved her.

my masterlist here

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds rp #criminal minds headcanons #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fan #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg blurb #mgg fanfiction #tw car wreck #tw car accident

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felix21im · 3 years ago

Text

"Ice Cold", a Leon Kennedy x reader fanfiction

As an Art and Design student all you want to do is just knuckle down and finish that one goddamn piece you've been working on for months. Too bad your time is constantly stolen by your Waiter job with minimal pay, but hey, at least the tips are good if you unbutton your shirt that one more time.

Masterlist

Chapter 6: The Bar

“You have to be kidding me right now!” You couldn't believe what you were hearing. “It was the first time I haven’t shown up to work, I always did my job exactly how you wanted me to and this is your thanks? I told you what happened and you don't even care at all! I was literally unconscious and in shock after what occurred that day.” You exclaimed and shook your head, not believing what you were hearing.

“I'm truly sorry, but you know how we handle things here. I'm sure a young and outgoing person like you will find a new job without any problems. We will send you the money for the last days you were working. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ve got a restaurant to take care of.” Your boss, well ex-boss, went through the door and left you standing in his office in disbelief. You picked up all your personal items before then heading to the front door. You looked around once more, thinking about all the years you were working here. You said one last goodbye to your coworkers before heading out the door, leaving this part of your life behind.

You went to your own car - finally having a driver's license after Leon made sure you got your private lessons - ready to drive home. But as you were sitting down you realized that that wasn't what you really wanted. The best thing to do now was to see Leon, so that's exactly where you were going.

You pulled into Leon’s driveway and parked in front of the front door. “I didn’t know you were going to be here today.” Angel greeted you as you stepped out of the car.

“Neither did I.” You answered and walked to the door, letting yourself in. You found Leon in the kitchen and he was leaning over a bottle of whiskey. “Leon?” You raised an eyebrow, thinking it was kind of early to drink but didn't say anything to him.

You must have scared him as he shot up to look at you. He looked rough, his hair was a mess and his grey clothes were stained. “Buttercup!” He smiled as he walked over to you. “I didn’t know you were coming over today, I thought you were at work.” He planted a kiss on your forehead and rubbed your arms.

“I got fired.” You simply blurted out, rather than trying to avoid it. “Since I didn’t go to work that one day last week my boss seriously wasn’t happy.” You lightly waved Leon off of you and sat down at the kitchen counter. “I’ve never missed a day for like three years but one day! One day! Is enough to get me fired.” You placed your head in your hands and groaned.

“Well fuck that guy.” He pulled a cereal box out of a cupboard under the kitchen island and placed it into a bowl.

“Fuck that guy…” You replied. “Now I need to waste the next week of my life trying to find a new job.

Leon finally put some milk into the bowl too. “You’re a college student, you don’t need a full time job.” He placed the bowl in front of you as you looked up at him. “Eat up, Buttercup.”

You looked down at the cereal and you pushed it around with your spoon. “I’m not really hungry, Leon.” You pushed the bowl back towards him and you brushed your hair with your hand. “It’s not that I need a job, I just like having one, it keeps me busy and the extra money never hurts.”

“But wasn’t the pay terrible?” He raised his eyebrow as he began to eat your food. “And super sexual? Your co-worker Mimi told me about how you would unbutton your shirt and wear super tight pants so that the customers would tip you more…”

“True.” You admitted. “So I’ll look for something different. Maybe I can be a personal assistant like Angel and Daisy.”

“They’re more than just assistants y’know.” Leon continued to eat. “Those two have joined me on a job, saved my life once or twice.”

“It’s four in the afternoon, why are you eating cereal?” You eventually asked.

“We don’t have any food, Angel wasn’t able to go shopping this morning.” He said as he placed his empty bowl in the sink. “How about an office job?”

“That’s a bit boring, dontcha think?”

“Umm. How about that internship you were going for?”

“I still have three months left of college, once I'm done with that and I have the grades for it, I can apply.” You admitted as you got off the bar stool, not having eaten any of the food Leon gave you. Leon watched you while you were filling your glass with water and some ice to cool down. You drank it and watched Leon do the same, just with his glass of whiskey. “Isn't it a little too early to drink?” The words left your mouth before you were even thinking about it. Now it was Leon's turn to raise an eyebrow at your comment.

“Are you my mom or what now? I think I know when or when I cannot have a drink.” He snapped at you, which really surprised you.

"Obviously I am not. But that's not really responsible of you, is it? I just don't get it, why you're drinking at this time and so often in general the past weeks." You thought about what you were saying, realizing his drinking behavior dates back to the first time you even met. "I get that your job isn't easy and stuff but day drinking? Really? Seems kind of low to me, Leon."

Leon let out a laugh and shook his head. "If all you want to do now is complain you can leave. That's not what I wanted you here for."

You looked at him again with big eyes. "So you don't wanna talk? I don't know what it is that’s between us, but it can't always be good and fun. I'm literally just worried about your health!"

"Worried? I think I know what's good for me much better than you do, I'm not the child here." He spat at you as he drank from his glass.

"So if you’re not ‘the child’ does that mean that I am?” You looked at him speechless. “That's how you see me? I understand that I'm a lot younger than you but I'm not a child! And just because I'm trying to talk about something serious? What is going on with you Leon?" He didn't even look at you. Instead he poured himself another drink and took a sip. You shook your head and let out a scoff. You then grabbed your jacket and went to the door. Before leaving you looked back to Leon, hoping he would apologize or stop you from leaving, instead you got nothing. You slammed the door behind you shut and you heard something break. “A fucking mansion and his front door cant even handle a slam..” You muttered to yourself as you went over to your car. Angrily you left his driveway and drove in the direction of home.

Your roommate was home for the holidays, leaving you in your apartment alone. Rather than sitting on the couch feeling sorry for yourself you tried to get some work done.

Looking for jobs was much harder than you remember. “Host. Nope. Grocery store worker. Eh, I guess that could work. Stripper?! Hm, if I'm desperate enough, maybe…” You spent hours looking and applying to jobs, most of them being just over minimum wage but any money is better than none.

Eventually you gave up and just began to watch TV on your laptop, endlessly flicking through the channels available to you. Since none of it looked interesting you put on something random and picked up your sketchbook. As the noise played in the background and your pencil ran across the paper your eyelids became heavier and heavier, those combined with the fact that it was now eleven at night.

The sound of your phone vibrating on your wooden desk ripped you from your sleep. At first you ignored it, being far too tired to want to actually open your eyes. It started to vibrate again. You rubbed your eyes, trying to see clearly in the dark and waking yourself up. You looked at your phone confused, wondering who wanted you so late at night. You unlocked it and looked at the time first. “Almost two in the morning... damn”, you muttered to yourself. After that you checked your notification and let out a sigh. Multiple messages from Leon just in the past few hours you were asleep. You didn't even bother looking at them, knowing that he was drunk. Most of the messages didn't even make sense and there was no way to read or understand them. Before locking the phone again, an unknown number called you. Unsure about who it could be, you waited for the call to end. But soon after the same number called again. You let out a sigh, answering the call. "Hello? Can I help you?" You asked tiredly. You didn't recognize the voice talking to you, but you could hear Leon mumbling in the background. The person told you something about Leon being totally wasted and that he requested for you to come and pick him up. Unsure about what to do, especially after the argument you had earlier, you still agreed to picking him up. You ended the call and put your phone away. Putting your head in your hands, you let out another sigh and shook your head. You quickly went to your kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, needing caffeine otherwise you would fall asleep before you even got to Leon.

As you grabbed your jacket, phone and coffee you looked at your car keys and shoved them into your pocket. You knew you couldn’t take your car as you didn’t want to leave it at the bar considering it was twenty miles from home. “Why couldn’t he have gone to a local bar?”

You waited outside in the rain for a taxi to come and pick you up. You’d be sure to charge this cost on Leon’s credit card.

Faint music was in the background as you walked through the door to ‘Billy’s Bar’ and it only took you a second to find Leon. “Buttercup!” He waved and blew a kiss at you the second he spotted you.

“Hey Leon.” You somewhat smiled as you sat down next to him at the bar. “What mess have you gotten yourself into?” You muttered as you waved over the bartender, them giving you the bill. “How can you rack up eighty dollars in one night?”

You searched Leon’s pockets for his wallet but came up empty. “Woah there Buttercup, let’s go home first before you start to pull my pants off.” You simply rolled your eyes at his drunk comment.

You groaned as you gave up the search for his wallet and eventually you just placed your own stack of cash on the bar, giving a little extra for the bartender as a tip. “Come on.” You got off the stool. “Let’s get you home.” Leon got off his stool and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, giving you a kiss on your forehead. “Jesus Leon, don’t do that…” You wiped the kiss off of you and shook your head as the two of you left the bar and into the pouring rain. “Keys?” You held out your hand and he placed his keys in your palm. The keys to one of his fancy cars that you don't even know the name of but you were pretty sure that it was an Audi of some sort. It had four doors and four wheels, good enough.

“I can drive Butterc- cup.” He hiccuped as he talked, proving just how much he shouldn’t drive.

“I’ll be fine…” You clicked the keys and the lights on the car flashed. You took Leon to the passenger side of the car and forced him off of you as you opened the door for him. He leant on the roof to help himself into his seat and you then closed the door behind him. “Alright, it’s just like my car… just a lot quicker and a lot more expensive…” You mumbled to yourself as you hopped in the driver’s seat and started the engine. The loud roar was enough to make you almost pee yourself due to your nerves.

You gripped your hands on the steering wheel and put the car into drive. The car immediately shot forward and you instantly slammed on the breaks, causing Leon to bash his face on the dashboard. “Oh fuck!” You put the car into park and looked at Leon’s nose. “I’m so sorry.” You carefully brushed your hand on his nose and luckily it didn’t feel as if it was broken.

“I’m fine…” Leon’s eyes rolled back in his head and he leant back in his seat. You simply huffed at him and leant over him, grabbing his seatbelt. As you went back to your seat you sighed at him as you looked at him sleeping.

You buckled your own seatbelt and started the car again, now more carefully. You checked all the buttons and hoped for the best as you left the parking spot slowly. Before you stepped on the gas once more to drive onto the street you looked over to Leon, who was now half asleep. Just sometimes he looked up again or out the window without saying anything. Which was probably better because he wouldn't say anything useful anyway in his state. You drove on the main street and gripped the wheel, concentrating on the dark and rainy road before you. You tried putting on some music but soon shut it off again because it just irritated you. So you just drove around silently trying to find a way to Leon's house. Every now and then Leon muttered something, more to himself than to you. You shook your head blaming yourself for his behavior. Letting out a sigh you concentrated on the road again and silently went on.

You drove for around five minutes before Leon began to get bored. “Buttercup?”

“Hey Leon…” You replied to him, keeping your eyes on the road because you didn’t want to swerve into a ditch.

“You’re the best.” You could see him smile at you in the corner of your eye. He held out his hand and you simply ignored it. “Please?” He wiggled his fingers, wanting you to hold his hand. You scoffed as you dropped your right hand from the wheel, placing your hand in his. “I love you, Buttercup.” He smiled at you again but you simply ignored it.

“You’re drunk, Leon.” You took your hand back from him, in annoyance.

You wanted him to say that he loved you, but not like this, not in a drunk slur. “I’m serious.”

"Yea, sure you are." You rolled your eyes and looked straight to the street, not giving him anymore attention.

"You're so mean, Buttercup." He began whining like a little child which made you laugh sarcastically.

"You’re behaving like a child now, Leon. I told you earlier today that it doesn't have anything to do with ages." You shook your head, thinking about the argument from earlier.

"I'm sorryyy..for snapping at you like that earlier.. do you forgive me? Pleaseeee Buttercup.." You raised your eyebrow at his apology, not thinking much of it.

"I can't forgive you when all you do is lie when you’re drunk. Say sorry again when you're sober and we'll see." You felt him moving in his seat, now directly facing you. You gave him a short look and tried pushing him back into his seat. "Leon, please sit down correctly. I can't concentrate like this."

He had a smug smile on his face now. "Am I all you can concentrate on now?" Leon came closer to you and you backed up, now shoving him away with your right hand. The road in front of you was still slippery and dark and you couldn't drive like this. In a short motion you stepped on the brakes and stopped at the side of the street. Now facing Leon as well you tried pushing him back into his own seat, hoping he would leave you alone now. He still resisted and even though he was totally drunk he still was stronger than you. He grabbed your wrists and came closer to you, almost sitting on your lap now. You were able to keep some distance with your legs but it wasn't an easy task. "Buttercuuup.." He began again as he started playing with your fingers. "I'm serious.. I loveee you, since the first time I met you." You looked at him, searching his face. People always say that drunk people speak the truth but a part in you didn't want to believe it. Not because you didn't have feelings for Leon, but this whole situation seemed wrong to you. You realized it wouldn't get you far when arguing in this state so you just let him talk, not giving it much thought. Leon continued talking but he soon noticed you didn't even listen anymore. As soon as he came closer to you again you snapped back to reality.

You unfastened your seatbelt and got out of the car. You walked through the rain to Leon's side of the car and also opened his door. He looked at you confused but didn't say anything. You loosened his seatbelt and almost threw him out of his seat and out the car. He just about caught his balance, looking at you perplexed. You tried finding the right words but didn't even know what you were doing here. Leon leaned on the side of the car, already totally soaking wet. "Leon, I don't know what's going on with you but I can't continue driving when you keep on annoying me like that! So please just shut up or we're gonna stay out here until you're sober again, I don't care!" You shouted towards him, hoping he would even hear you through the loud and heavy rain. You came closer to him again, waiting for an answer. It seemed like hours passed, but Leon didn't say a thing. You groaned and opened the back door. You grabbed Leon's arm and pushed him inside. Overwhelmed by the sudden force, he fell into the backseat taking you with him. So now you lay on top of Leon, both of you totally wet. You felt Leon's warm breath and also the smell of alcohol. You suddenly felt hot and everything around you seemed to stop, all you saw was Leon. He looked you deep in the eyes and you into his. Without even thinking about it, you felt Leon's big hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer to his face. And the next thing you felt were his lips on yours. For a split second you leaned into the kiss, before realizing what was happening. In an instant you shot up and pushed yourself away from Leon. He looked at you, confused and heartbroken. "Leon. Let's just get you home now." You helped him put on a seatbelt without speaking another word and then went back to the driver's seat. The rest of the drive home neither of you spoke a word but every now and then you felt Leon staring at you from the back.

Finally you arrived at his home. Even though it was raining you could still make out the driveway and main door. You didn't bother parking the car in his garage, so you stopped in front of the door. You took the keys and before leaving the car you looked back at Leon. He wasn't asleep. He looked out the window, like most of the time during the ride. It reminded you of a child that wanted to stop at the local McDonald's but his parents didn't want to. You shook your head and tried hiding your smile. After that you left the car and also helped Leon out. Both of you didn't say a word as you walked to the door. Leon's arm was around your back for balance but you didn't mind it. It was better than letting him walk alone and him ending up injuring himself. You opened the front door, which was unlocked to your surprise. Apparently no one in this house thinks it could be possible that a thief would come here to say hello. You took off your own jacket which was totally drenched and hung it up. You then did the same for Leon, without any words exchanging either.

"I should probably get you something dry to wear. You're gonna get sick otherwise." You said more to yourself than to Leon but he still heard you and agreed.

"Let's.. just go upstairs and change there. It doesn't matter if the house gets dirty." Leon already started walking towards the stairs but you soon followed after noticing how he couldn't even walk straight. You then helped him upstairs and you went into the bathroom.

"I'll get you something to sleep in, just.. sit here and don't move. Can you do that for me?" He nodded silently and you left the room. You went into his bedroom and got some pajamas for him and also something for you to wear. As you entered the bathroom you found Leon sitting in the bathtub, naked. Even though you've seen him half naked before this wasn't what you wanted to see. Covering your eyes you threw his pajamas over. Obviously he didn't catch them so now they were lying next to him. "Jesus, Leon. What are you doing? I asked one thing of you and-"

"Sorry, Buttercup.. I just didn't want to freeze." He put his legs closer to him and rested his head on top of them. You shook your head and even though you didn't want to, you had to agree with him. You were also cold and wearing wet clothes didn't help. You sighed and looked at him. "Are you gonna shower by yourself or do you need help?" You felt like his caretaker right now but you also couldn't leave him hanging now. He looked at you with big eyes, which basically begged for you to help him. You sighed once again before walking over to him. You started the shower making sure it was warm enough. It was just a quick way of warming him up, not wanting to spend any more time with a naked and drunk Leon. After you were done you helped him out of the bathtub and put him into a towel. After drying him a little bit you helped him get into his pajamas and walked him into his bedroom. You watched him get into bed and before taking a shower yourself you saw him drifting off into a deep sleep. Closing the door behind you silently you went back into the bathroom and took a shower and changed into some of Leon's clothing. Nothing too special but at least it would keep you warm. After you put all the wet clothes away you went downstairs to try to get some sleep as well. You entered the living room and lay down on the big couch. Just a few minutes later you felt sleep take over and take you into a world of dreams.

You woke up the next morning to Angel's voice. "Hey there. Sorry to wake you up, I just wanted to see you before heading out again." You sat up and stretched, looking at Angel. "Thank you for bringing Leon home. I wasn't home yesterday and.. I'm sorry you had to see him like that." You shook your head, putting a hand on Angel's shoulder.

"Don't apologize for that. It's no big deal.. I think. Does this happen often? He was so.. weird yesterday." You looked down, feeling guilty for snapping at Leon like that yesterday, maybe being the reason for him ending up drunk.

"It's, well, it happened before. He always likes to drink but I'm not sure what's going on to be honest. But don't worry, okay? It has nothing to do with you or anything. Chances are high he's just fed up with work, I don't blame him." You nodded, smiling at Angel now. She then stood up and gave you a small smile before turning to leave. Before leaving though she turned back to you. "I prepared some coffee for you and Leon. Maybe try waking him up. And.. try not to be too mad at him, would you?" She waved to you one more time before leaving the room and soon the house.

You got your two mugs of coffee and you went up the stairs to wake up Leon. As you put your hand on the doorknob you could already hear his snoring so you made sure to be quiet. He laid face up on the bed and his hair was extremely messy, so rather than waking him up like you originally planned you just sat on the chair by the window and drank your coffee. The rain from last night was still just as terrible, if not worse to the point where you couldn't even look out the window, you needed some other source of entertainment. You picked up one of the books that Angel had placed in there as decor and began to read it. It was only a small book, something about a knight in shining armor there to save the princess, just like all the other fairy tales. As you were reaching the end of the book you could hear Leon beginning to stir, his breathing had become a lot lighter and his snoring had stopped, meaning he was pretty much awake now. You took another sip from your coffee and you could see Leon sitting up in bed. He had his hand on his head and you could tell that it was pounding. “Good morning, Sleepyhead.” You gave him a faint smile as you tapped the table, another mug of coffee waiting for Leon.

He groaned as he waved his arm at you, wanting you to bring the coffee to him. At first you just shook your head at him and clicked your tongue but he wouldn't give up, you were too tired to argue about it so you just sat on the side of the bed, your back facing him. “You’re mad."

“You think?” You snapped at him, still looking forward, at the blank wall in front of you.

“I’m sorry, Buttercup.” He sat up properly and shuffled towards you, being careful not to spill his cold coffee. “I was being stupid. I had a bad morning and I just wanted to chill out for the rest of the day, have a nice drink and just relax by the pool or something.”

“Oh so me arriving for a surprise visit, that's what derailed your day?” You turned to face him and you could tell that the two cogs in his brain were working overtime.

“What? No!” He shook his head as he tried to get a grasp on the situation. “I overreacted to you asking about my drinking problem-”

“Oh so now you admit that it's a problem?” You interrupted him, by now your body was fully turnt to him, just by your body language he knew that you were more than just pissed at him.

“It’s always been a problem.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I can try and explain it.” You simply huffed at him, wanting to hear his excuse but still wanting him to know that you're angry. “After Raccoon City I began to get pretty bad nightmares. Like really, really bad nightmares. You can guess why.” You simply nodded at it, feeling guilty now that you got him to explain. “I couldn’t sleep for weeks at a time, so I tried my best to just keep myself busy. Hobbies, people, anything. I would sometimes go out to bars and whatnot and I figured out that after a few drinks I would usually sleep better that night.” He adjusted himself in bed so that he was fully sitting upright, his full attention on you as he talked. “I’ve been doing it for years, Buttercup. It’s just a hobby I guess.”

You didn’t really know what to say. Sure you lived with college kids so you were around drinking fanatics 24/7 but an actual alcoholic? You didn’t have much experience.

“Buttercup, I’ve tried everything.” He leant forward and grabbed your hand, rather than you recoiling like the night before you accepted it and you shuffled yourself closer to him, sitting cross legged next to him on the bed. You hesitated before leaning your head on his shoulder and also grabbing his hand.

"I don't know how I can help, Leon. But you can't continue like this. I.. I didn't recognize you yesterday, you were so different. I don't want to worry about you, when you're out for a drink. I just-" You looked up to him with big eyes, some tears forming inside them. You felt so helpless and even bad for not noticing anything earlier. Leon squeezed your hand.

"Shh.. it's okay, Buttercup. After I met you, I tried to stop drinking, you can even ask Angel. But the nightmares never end. The only time I was able to sleep through the night was.. when you were here and slept next to me. Knowing I wasn't alone, feeling you next to me, it helped me." You blushed and gave him a small smile, but deep down you knew this wouldn't help long-term.

"Even if I stay here to sleep in your bed, you will always want to drink. And I can't be here with you all the time. You need.. we need something else to fix this problem." You took a deep breath. "Leon, I think you need professional help. Like, I don't know, medication to help you sleep?" You looked at him unsure of what you could do to help.

"I tried that before, Buttercup. I swear I tried it many times before but I also fell back into this habit. I can't change it anymore." You shook your head.

"No Leon, stop saying stuff like this. You may have tried before but.. now I'm here. I'll help you. I promise I will not leave your side, we will do this together. We can work in small steps, you hear me? Like.. you always drink your whiskey with ice, right? What about you trying to put in less alcohol and more ice? Step by step? It's worth a shot and this way it isn't cold withdrawal. What do you say?" You looked at him with big eyes, kind of proud of your idea. A small smile rested on Leon's face as he looked at you.

"It's worth a shot. But don't get your hopes up too high. This won't be easy and.. if things don't work out, I don't know who I'll be then."

"Leon. I am not leaving you alone now. We will do this together and no matter what happens, I'll be here. I believe in you." You lay your arms around him and hugged him. You felt his arms around your body and smiled. After a short while you let go of him. Both of you took a sip of your stone cold coffee and sat there in silence, the only sound being the rain outside the house.

You saw Leon fidgeting around and looked at him questioningly. Before you could ask what he was thinking about he began speaking. "You know, uhm, what I said yesterday. I meant it. Sure, I was drunk and all but…", he turned to you. "I love you. I have for a long time now but I didn't know how to say it. But I really do." You looked at Leon with big eyes, shocked that he would bring this topic up again. Unsure of what to say you stood up and walked around the room. Leon's gaze followed you and you felt bad for not saying anything. After walking up and down you finally sat back next to him again. "Leon, I.. I don't know what to say. I mean.. I. God. Leon. I love you. I really do." You let out a small laugh. This whole situation felt so bizarre to you. You saw a big smile growing on Leon's face and you had to return it. He grabbed you by your arm and pulled you to him. You looked each other in the eyes, knowing what both of you needed now. Leon closed the gap between you two and after so long you kissed him. Without being drunk. Just a real and honest kiss, both of you wanting it and knowing it was the right thing. “So what was the bad news that you got yesterday morning?” You asked him as you pulled away.

“I have to go to Italy for a job.” He smirked. “But I think I might drag you along with me, we can have some time together once I'm done with work.” You thought about the offer for a split second before agreeing.

"At least I don't have a job where I have to ask for permission anymore." You jokingly said, trying to make the best of the situation.

"Well then we have a plan. Sooo, you better get home and pack your things. We should be at the airport early tomorrow morning. I'll text you the time and pick you up. Sounds good?" You nodded before going for another kiss. You stayed at Leon's house for a while longer before eventually going home and packing your stuff. You were excited to be by his side at a job and couldn't wait for it anymore. God knows what you've gotten yourself into...

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Taglist: @trinswhimsys @dixanadu @oppsie--channie

#resident evil vendetta #re2 #re4 #re6 #leon Kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader

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lokilickedme · 3 years ago

Text

The Way

I’m writing horror again. I guess it’s that time, you know, that time that has nothing to do with Halloween or the seasons or whatever, that time when it just hits me for some reason. And just like I always do, I’ll say I don’t know why.

Even though I know why, and you know I know why.

Because the truth is always so much weirder and worse and more disquieting than any excuse I could make up for it, and sometimes I just feel the need.

Today I felt the need, and I couldn’t make it go away.

And so I sat down, and words I didn’t want to write were written.

8592 words I would rate this Mature 18+ if it was a fic, strictly because of the subject matter.

Warnings: Death, mostly. Religious trauma, brief descriptions of abuse, mentions of mental illness, domestic violence, grief, familial dysfunction, religious abuse, emotional abuse, medical conditions, brief mentions of drug use/abuse, mild gore in reference to corpse decomposition, psychological unease and mild terror, child abuse (mental/emotional/psychological), brief allusion to physical child abuse, cult references, loss of faith, attempted murder, possible actual murder.

A Note: I love you guys, you’re always so quick and willing to be helpful and offer advice and suggestions and such, and I adore that about you. But on this piece of work I ask that nobody offer any theories about what happened to my brother - medical, criminal, or otherwise - and please no suggestions on things we could do to pursue investigation, that ship has long sailed. It’s been 23 years and he’s a cold case. We spent years trying to sort it out but in the end it’s just something that happened, and we moved on because we had to. There are a lot of open ends, a lot of question marks, a lot of suspicious details that never connected to anything - and we tried, we truly did. If anyone out there knows the truth, they’ve never shown themselves to us. We do have our theories, but my brother was a secretive person living a life none of us knew about, and the people he knew weren’t people we knew. Everyone involved is either dead or moved on or got away with whatever it was they did, and there are only three of us who still care. It’s over.

Until today, I’ve never put these events into words.

It was something I needed to do, finally.

This is PART ONE. There may not be a part two, unless doing this ends up making me feel better.

Please feel free to comment if you wish. As you can see, pretty much nothing triggers me. I just ask that you please refrain from the type of comments noted above.

And thank you.

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This is, regrettably, a true story. Nothing has been changed but the names, because the dead don’t like being talked about, and James was just enough of a shit to haunt me for it.

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They made up their minds And they started packing They left before the sun came up that day An exit to eternal summer slacking But where were they going without ever knowing the way

They drank up the wine And they got to talking They now had more important things to say And when the car broke down They started walking Where were they going without ever knowing the way

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

Their children woke up And they couldn't find them They left before the sun came up that day They just drove off and left it all behind them But where were they going without ever knowing the way?

You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

- The Way, Fastball, 1998

That was the year James died in his sleep.

Or that’s what they say, anyway. Asthma, the likely cause based on his medical history, our first and least disturbing assumption. Undetermined, the official determination based on the hastily scraped-together autopsy, the best that could be done under the circumstances. We tell people he had breathing problems, and they nod their heads and agree because they knew he did, and now he’s been gone so long that nobody asks. Most of the people who ever met him have long moved on or disappeared or died themselves, or just remember him as the enigmatic middle son from the Keithley family that nobody really knew very well. You know, the odd one, the one that showed up at meetings maybe once a year and smiled nervously but didn’t really talk to anyone and always seemed anxious to leave? The one who died under mysterious circumstances? That one.

He left the way he always came in. Quietly, unexpected, without anyone being aware of either his entrance or his exit.

But me and mom know some things, and she’s not talking. She probably never will.

So maybe it’s time I did.

December 1998. I’d gotten married two years previous and moved back to the family land with my new husband. He hated it there, but we had an affordable place to live. It wasn’t bad. He’d tell you otherwise. The land never sat right with him, but I’d lived there too many years to see it. I’d been fifteen when my father uprooted his large family from the city and hauled us out to the great back door to nowhere, and even though I’d left several times to wander elsewhere, I always came back.

I didn’t realize why at the time, at any of the multiple times. But now I know. That place gets you, and it holds you, and unless you’re goddamned devoted to staying gone you will always be pulled back. It took me till I was 49 to funnel the necessary amount of devotion away from the religious dedication I’d had jackbooted into me and turn it toward getting out, but against a great number of overwhelming odds I finally did it.

But this isn’t about that, not yet anyway. This is about my brother James, and how he went to sleep one night and found his own way out.

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It was snowing, had been for days, a bit unusual but not unheard of. The part of the state we lived in was notorious for extended ice storms and we knew a bad one was coming, but until it hit we played in the snow like it was a gift and we were deprived children who knew it was all going to be taken away soon. My brothers and I were adults but you wouldn’t know it, watching us sneak around in the woods staging elaborate commando attacks on each other. James was the best of us, a stealth king who could stand in the middle of a room for an hour without a single soul seeing him. Perception bias, he said. Your brain ignores me because I obviously don’t belong, like those puzzles where you circle what’s wrong but it takes you forever to find them.

He crept around in the forest scaring the shit out of people, dropping his long tall self out of trees, appearing from nowhere to administer a well aimed snowball to the face of whoever happened to cross his path and then disappearing just as quickly. We called him a wraith and it wasn’t a good natured jibe. We meant it. He made people nervous. He was the stealthy kind of quiet you associate with danger, and he knew how to do things an average person doesn’t ever have any need to know. It was a quiet cool that we admired him for, because none of the rest of us had it.

The religion we were raised in kept a tight lid on us, but me and James, we never really let it get into our bones. We were the smart ones, in retrospect. I went through the motions by force of habit and a sense of self preservation, doing what was expected and demanded of me, following the rules and making myself a perfect example of a young member of the church so I wouldn’t bring shame on the congregation and my family. But mostly the congregation. It was always more important than anything else. And I had behaving down to an art form, but mostly when people were looking. Usually also when they weren’t.

But sometimes, not quite.

And then I prayed for forgiveness about it later because God was supposed to forgive you if you asked him to, right? The tenet of willful sin being unforgivable never took root with me even though that was what the church conditioned into us through fear and constant repetition. They said it from the stage two nights a week and again on Sunday to hammer it home. Two nights a week and again on Sunday my head silently disagreed. God’s not like that. And then I did the praying for forgiveness thing even though I knew I was right, because I was disagreeing with the church, and the church was God’s channel here on Earth, wasn’t it? I committed a mortal sin at least three times a week on that subject alone, and though the dread of divine punishment was hardwired into me, I never could reconcile the concept of a loving and forgiving God destroying me simply for knowing better.

I’m not sure the comprehension of an overwatching deity ever actually established itself in James’ brain. A moral code, yes. But isn’t that what God is, really? Maybe he understood more about God and forgiveness than the rest of us. But he was considered an unapproved fringe member of the church because he couldn’t suffer people and noise and being looked at and he refused to preach, and he was soft-shunned as a result. Because if you weren’t all in to the point of being willing to die at any moment for your faith, you were as good as faithless.

And faithless meant condemned. And the congregation couldn’t be bothered with condemned people, regardless of their reasons for not having both feet in the water. The first and only option on their list was to put the person out and let them find their own way back once they realized they had nobody left in the world who cared about them.

James escaped that somehow. He was supposed to be shunned whole scale, but he wasn’t trying to convince anyone to leave the faith and he presented no threat to anyone’s strength of belief, and so far as anyone knew he’d committed no grave sins other than disinterest. So the rule that dictated we cast him out was bent enough to allow him to remain living on the family land, though at one point during a fit of overzealous righteousness my mother had tried to have a family meeting to vote on whether or not we were going to let him stay. I refused to vote and when I walked out of the house the meeting fell apart.

I’ve never forgiven her for that. Her son’s life being put to a vote with her presiding over the proceedings, vengeful and unfeeling and devoid of compassion on behalf of God himself. It takes my breath away, the anger, still to this day. The only thing I ever truly learned from my mother about parenting was a long and intensely detailed list of what not to do to my own children, and I suppose I should be grateful for that. It’s a bitter thank-you to have to give, but it’s something.

We knew James as much as he would allow us to, and not an inch further. Which meant the extent of our knowledge of him pretty much stretched to include the singular fact that he was different. What that meant, I still don’t really know - but it was there from the day he was born, that slight off-ness, the oddly off center calibration that you can’t really see so much as sense in a person. I know now he was likely on the autism spectrum and he walked through life seeing and reacting to everything differently than most of us, but that wasn’t a thing back then. You were just weird, or you weren’t. And I’m not convinced that was a bad thing for him, strictly speaking. But in the confines of our religion and our family’s devout and sometimes violent dedication to it, it took its toll almost daily.

He stood out, and he was very much a person who didn’t want to. He wanted to fade into the background, to not be seen, to not be known. And our religion didn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense, because we were commanded to be bold bearers of The Word Of God, and no exceptions were made.

None.

I’m going to stop calling it a religion now. I beg your indulgence as I shift to calling it what it is, because calling it a religion is an insult to actual religions that don’t destroy peoples’ lives with callous indifference and murderous glee.

We were raised in a doomsday death cult. There’s no other name that fits.

And we were trapped in it and its ugly cycle of neverending mental and emotional manipulation and abuse until we were adults, and some of us are still bound to it. My oldest brother worked his way up to the upper levels of oversight in the local congregation and was solidly entrenched in it until his death, which is a story for later. My youngest brother, the last remaining living blood sibling I have, is still deeply in it to this day and will likely never leave it.

I took the hard way out, three years ago, by walking away.

James, though. He took the easy way. He simply closed his eyes, and he was free.

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December 22, 1998. Three days before Christmas, though that meant nothing to us. The cult told us Christmas was a filthy demonic pagan ritual that was condemned by God, so to us the season was just a nice chilly time of year with lots of time off from work. We’d had an unusual amount of snow, the most we’d had in years. The roads were impassable and everyone was home except my husband, who worked close enough that his boss at the glass shop came and picked him up that morning with chains on his tires. Lots of windshields had shattered from the sudden violent cold that had struck the previous night and Scott had the only glass shop for sixty miles.

I think it must have been around noon, and likely my mother had sent my dad up the hill to see if James wanted to come down for the lunch she was making. He and his wife had split up against the strict rules of the church after a few years of suffering through an ill advised marriage, an important detail to this story that will come into the tale later, and he was alone up there at the top of the hill a lot. Sometimes he forgot to eat, or he got so busy that he just didn’t bother, so our mother always made something for him because even though he was in his 20′s he was still a kid who needed looking after and her zealous fervor against him had died down with time. I think he let her believe he was helpless because it worked in his favor and there was always lunch waiting for him in her kitchen as a result.

He was different, he wasn’t dumb.

We all lived on the hill back then with the exception of our youngest brother. He’d moved to the city with his new wife not long prior. The locals jokingly called the place a commune, and I guess they weren’t completely wrong. Thirty-eight acres of wooded land far beyond the city limits that we’d painstakingly spent years carving a livable space into, with five houses, all built from the ground up and inhabited by an extended family of well known culties from a well known cult. It’s almost comical, looking back on it, knowing now how they kept an eye on us for years to make sure we weren’t doing anything weird up there.

They should have run us off with pitchforks and burning stakes at the very beginning.

Things might have ended differently for us if they had.

----------

My grandparents lived at one end of the property, an old couple as simple and solid as salted soup, devoutly religious and devoted to the cult and very much cut from the can survive anything and probably will cloth like so many old country folks of their generation. They were waiting out the end of days up there in their little wooden house, expecting the final hour of this old system to come long before their own demise. I liked my grandmother, she had a sweet smile and fell asleep every time granddad started talking about the Bible and she paid me five dollars every Wednesday to drive her into town to get groceries, and years later, when she was dying, she told me she’d had a dream where she met my unborn son. I was four months pregnant and didn’t know yet that I was having a boy. She died before he was born, but to this day, fifteen years later, he tells me he’s sure he met her, he just can’t remember when.

I was scared of my grandfather. Not terrified, but there was nothing grandfatherly to him and I always suspected he never actually liked kids much. He’d once told us a story about the great Fort Worth flood that wiped out most of the city when my mom was a baby, and how he had told my grandmother to let go of my 2-year-old mother while he was struggling to get them across a rushing flooded creek in water up to their shoulders. My grandmother couldn’t swim. We could make another Ruthie, he said. But I couldn’t get another ‘Nita.

He said it proudly, like he was to be admired for his choice. I was young when he told that story, but it settled into me that this was evil.

Even when he was old as dirt and dying of a brain tumor in hospice care, he made me uneasy. I was never close to him. But for some reason, in his final days, he forgot who everyone was except me. I had been living in another state for years and he hadn’t seen me since before the tumor started taking his life. But when I walked into the room he turned his head and looked at me, and he mouthed my name.

He couldn’t speak. I don’t know what he was trying to say, struggling with words that nobody could hear. And I felt bad. I didn’t want to be the last person he recognized. My cousins adored him and had spent the last few years constantly at his side, and they were angry, maybe justifiably, that I was the one he reached for.

I didn’t want that at all.

I don’t believe he was a bad man, but he never spoke of anything except the cult’s interpretation of the Bible, and it was as tiresome as it was terrifying. Granddads are supposed to be fun. Ours quoted doctrine at us in a deep loud commanding voice that you couldn’t interrupt and you couldn’t tune out, and once he got going you had to just settle in and wait for him to run out of zealous steam. And then he would suddenly stop and command grandmother to turn on a John Wayne movie and bring him some ice cream, and it was over until the next time.

I know my mother resented him. She knew grandmother was the one that had refused to let her go, the one that had held onto her even though she almost drowned by the simple act of holding on. She knew her father had been willing to let her wash away and drown. That he thought she was interchangeable with whatever baby they would have next. How she could spend her entire life with that knowledge and not be deeply affected by it was something that never made sense to me, but now, when she’s in her 70′s and I’m in my 50′s, I finally understand. It affected her. She’ll just be damned if she’ll let anyone see it. And she had stood there in that hospice room watching him mouth my name with resentment burning in her eyes, though she would have rather died than let anyone know what it was for. He’d forgotten her weeks ago.

The house in the center of the hill was mom and dad. The homestead. The house we’d all lived in together, that we’d built with our own hands, the first thing that marked that wild overgrown hill as a place where people actually lived. A long path through the woods connected it to the grandparents’ house, and it was the epicenter of everything in our lives. James and I had lived in the upstairs rooms of that house until we both moved out and married our respective mates years later, a reprehensible act on our part that was never okay with my mother and that she never forgave either of us for. She’d wanted us all to stay. We can all live here together until the New System comes, she always said. That’s how the Bible says it’s supposed to be. We can all keep each other safe and on the right path until the end comes, and then we’ll all be here together forever.

A decade later when I sat up on the hill watching that house burn to the ground, there was as much relief as grief billowing into the sky with the black smoke. It was the end of an era, and it was far beyond time for it.

Nobody saw it but me. James was dead, had been for years. Robbie was dead now too. Dad was gone, so was granddad. Me and my youngest brother David were the last two left of the kids, but he had moved to a neighboring city when he got married and he has never seen things the way I see them. We were of different generations, we weren’t raised the same way, and he’d never experienced the abuse I lived with for the first half of my life. And he had dedicated his own life to the cult with all the honesty and lack of guile that I didn’t have when I’d made my own dedication vows at the too-young age of sixteen.

It was the end of an era, but apparently only for me.

James’ house was up the hill, past a clearing where my dad used to keep old cars that he cannibalized for parts. Our oldest brother Robbie, long married with kids of his own, lived at the bottom on the farthest corner of the land. And my house was on the slope to the west, built on the spot where we’d cleared off an old half-fallen homestead from the late 1800′s, dutifully paying no mind to the fact that a grave was nestled into the slope, right where the yellow daffodils grew. The cult told us superstition was tied up with the demons and false religion, so we didn’t have the built-in human instinct that tells most people to stay the hell away from certain things.

We just pretended it wasn’t there, and put no importance on it. It was just an old grave. The soil was good and the garden I planted next to it did well, though those strange daffodils always wound themselves through everything I put in the ground. My husband said something wasn’t right about it, but I didn’t pay any attention to him. He hadn’t been raised as devout as me.

My dad knocked on my door around lunchtime and I opened it. He backed up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, the fancy leather coat the dealership had awarded him when he was designated a five-star Chrysler technician and given the state’s first and only license to work on the new Vipers that had recently rolled off the prototype line. It was a cool jacket. Made him look like the old pictures my other grandmother had shown me of him from the early 1960′s, when he was young and very much a product of a fancier era. He’d never stopped greasing his hair back and was still so thin that he and I wore the same size jeans.

I’ve never understood the look on his face when I opened the door. To this day I can’t sort it. It wasn’t a blankness like so many people who’ve seen death wear without awareness. It wasn’t grief. It wasn’t even shock.

He was sorry.

Those were the first words out of his mouth.

I’m sorry.

I stood there, not knowing what he was sorry for. It was cold. I couldn’t push the screen door open very far because of the snow blocking it. And my father was standing at the bottom of the steps James had helped my husband build, his hands shoved down far into his pockets like a penitent child about to get in trouble, telling me he was sorry.

James is dead, he finally said. He’s in his house. I went up there and he’s dead.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I do now - just now, this very moment in fact, I know that I was the first person he told. He came straight from James’ house to mine and told me my brother was dead.

I don’t know what I said back to him, I just remember sitting down on the top step and feeling the cold bite of the snow through my pajama pants. There’s a vague recollection of putting my face in my hands, and the embarrassing knowledge that I did that simply because I didn’t know what else to do. And dad just stood there, nervously stepping from foot to foot in the snow, because he didn’t know what else to do either.

I think I asked How at some point. He said he didn’t know. He had something in his pocket but to this day I don’t know what it was.

I don’t know if it was important. Something tells me it was. Or maybe it was just the eternally present handkerchief he always kept on him.

I’m sorry, he said again. He seemed to feel like it was his fault somehow. I’m sorry.

What do we do? I asked him. I’ve never felt more blank. What are we supposed to do?

I don’t remember what he said, other than he was going to get my older brother. I remember thinking that was a good idea. Robbie would know what to do. He always did. Brash and blustery and bigmouthed, he got things done while other people stood around debating how to do them. He would get on it, whatever needed doing. He would figure it out.

I went back in the house and dad walked away, headed down the path through the woods that connected my house to Robbie’s, hands still shoved deep in his pockets, the big retro vintage Chrysler emblem on the back of his jacket the last thing I saw before I pulled the screen door shut. I stared down for a minute at the mound of snow it had scooped into my livingroom, still with no clue what I was supposed to do.

No clue at all.

I kicked the snow back outside and shut the door.

----------

It’s an odd thing, watching the coroner’s van drive away with someone you know inside it. Someone you saw just yesterday. Someone who was alive. Someone who should still be alive but isn’t, somehow. And since there’s really no way to earn a ride in a coroner’s van without dying, there’s an awful unsettling sensation to it that you can’t get away from. The last time I saw James he was laughing that devious little laugh of his, his eyes red and bloodshot from the ever present asthma he’d suffered with his entire life. I don’t count the sight of the coroner’s van leaving the hill via our long steep driveway with his cold corpse tucked into a black zippered bag, because I didn’t see him. I never saw him. I didn’t see him dead in his house and I didn’t see them carry him out, I didn’t see them put him in the van. I didn’t see him later, when it was all over with. And if I try hard enough I can imagine that van empty, with that long black bag tossed crumpled in the back without a body in it, and James somewhere else living his life however the hell he pleases.

I hold onto that. Some days it helps. And some days I think I see him, walking by the side of the road or getting out of a car in the post office parking lot, and it makes me happy thinking he escaped. I see him in every hitchhiker, in every wandering traveler making his way down the interstate, in every tall thin man I glimpse from the corner of my eye as I go about my business in town.

He’s out there.

I hope he’s happy.

The ice storm hit the next day.

----------

For the next two weeks we were stuck on our hill. Power out, no electricity, no heat, no lights, roads iced over and impassable. We all piled up in mom and dad’s house, quietly grieving James, trying to stay warm. Most of the state lost power for days, including the city 150 miles away where his body had been taken to the state coroner’s office. There was no apparent cause of death, so the state ordered an autopsy.

His body had just been placed into cold storage to wait its turn when the power grid went down. And then, by some unholy stroke of nightmarish luck, the facility’s generators failed.

Nobody could make it in to work because of the ice. By the time someone finally got into the morgue the cold storage had been down for four days.

Six bodies melted, including James.

----------

No viable autopsy could be done, though they tried their best I suppose. The end report was obtained two months later. It was mostly inconclusive due to the long delay and resultant decomposition of tissue. There was apparent scarring on James’ heart, but it was old scarring and had nothing to do with his death. His lungs were scarred as well, but that was no surprise, he’d had severe asthma his entire life. There was no determinable cause of death, no inflicted trauma, no presence of illicit drugs as far as they could tell from the limited toxicology report they managed with what they had to work with.

No reason.

He’d simply died.

It seemed fitting, to me at least, that the end of him be enshrouded in an unsolvable mystery. He was a secretive person, intensely private. He would have loved knowing nobody had a clue what happened to him.

And so we drew our own conclusion as a family. He’d had an asthma attack in his sleep. There had been an inhaler next to his bed, but it was new and still in the box. He simply hadn’t woken up to use it. Dad didn’t participate in the drawing of this conclusion, his input kept stoically to himself, like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.

We pretended not to see it.

He and mom braved the last of the ice a few days later to make the 150 mile drive to see James one last time.

They came back different.

You couldn’t tell it was him, my mother said. He was melted, literally. It was like one of those science fiction movies where they melt you with a laser beam and you turn to goo.

Dad had nothing to say. He went to bed and stayed there until the next day.

You can go see him, mom told me. I’ll go with you if you want to go. But I don’t recommend it.

I decided not to go.

And so I never saw my brother dead. I never saw any proof that he was gone. He just wasn’t there anymore. There was no funeral, he was cremated and his ashes were sent home weeks later, and I went on with my life with the image in my head of James, alive, somewhere else.

----------

Dad was different from that day on. He’d always been stoic, terse, strict. My childhood had been spent in fear of him, an eternal dread of making him mad and feeling his temper erupt keeping me from showing any hint of a personality during my formative years. The cult had forced him to abide by the violent tenet of Spare the rod, spoil the child and there was never any risk of me being spoiled.

James being gone flipped a switch in him. He was nicer suddenly. Mellow. Kind. After the trauma wore off his humor discovered itself and he was funny. The dour angry demeanor fell off and revealed a man that I was sad never to have known before. He and I became friends. I could sense in his new attitude toward me that he regretted how he’d raised me and respected the way I’d always stood up and been my own person despite it. But my mother was falling off the deep end and for all the newfound easygoingness of my father, she counterbalanced it with an extremism born of the religious fervor of a mother determined to gain enough favor with God to see her dead child again. And she was going to make sure the rest of us did too.

We all had to get good and straight on the path, get completely right and stay that way, or we’d never see James again. He’d be in the New World and we wouldn’t, and how would she explain that to him? She and I worked together in a law office at the time and as she became more unhinged and unpleasant, I reacted by becoming more outgoing and accomplished. Our boss changed my work designation from receptionist to Executive Assistant and started teaching me how to do everything from filing papers at the courthouse to photographing accident scenes. I no longer answered to my mother, the office manager. I answered directly to the boss.

That didn’t go over well. She was a control freak with heavy untreated trauma, and the one person in the world she felt the most obsessive need to control was suddenly no longer under her thumb in a workspace where she considered herself the supreme authority. She countermanded every order the boss gave me and tried to load me up with general office chores that left me no time to do the important assignments he’d given me. I had no choice but to tell her she wasn’t my superior anymore.

She chose that day to have her nervous breakdown over James, jumping out of my car at a red light on the way home and storming angrily through a shopping mall with me trailing frantically along behind her, yelling for security to arrest me while I tried to get her to calm down. I ended up telling her she wasn’t the only person who lost James but that none of the rest of us were allowed to experience our own grief because we were too busy catering to hers.

She sat down on a bench outside the sporting goods store and glared at me with a cold hatred I’ve seen on very few other faces, ever.

I knew it would be you, she hissed at me.

That moment changed our relationship forever. It changed me forever. That was the day I decided my life was my own, that she not only didn’t have authority over me at work, she didn’t have authority over me anywhere else either. She could no longer dictate my actions, my behavior, my thoughts and feelings.

For this she disowned me. It was the first of several disownings over the next few years. I got used to it. We went to work the next day like nothing had happened, and I didn’t do a single thing on the task list she slapped down on my desk. It was a metaphor for the rest of my life, but I didn’t know it yet.

My husband and I moved out of state a couple of months later, away from that hill, away from her increasingly controlling paranoia and bitterness, the first of many small steps toward freedom.

As we were driving away with our trailer full of personal belongings behind us, he said one thing that I tried to argue against, but that somewhere deep inside I knew was probably right.

That land is cursed, he said.

----------

A few weeks before we moved my youngest brother came to town and we went into James’ house together. It was exactly like it had been the day my dad found him. The only thing that stood out as different was the bare mattress on the bed - the men from the coroner had wrapped him up in the sheet he’d been laying on and took it with them, leaving just the naked springform mattress James had bought for Jessica right before her final breakdown and their subsequent separation.

It took me a while to go in the bedroom, but I knew from the moment I walked into the house that I was going to end up there. I needed to see it, the place where James had closed his eyes and left us.

There was a small puddle of dried blood near the foot of the bed, brown and stained into the fabric. James always slept backwards, with his head at the wrong end. The blood had come from his nose.

I touched it. I don’t know why. It was dry.

He was gone.

----------

David and I laughed a lot that day. James had been funny in a way that was distinctly him, quiet and of few words, but those words had always counted. And as we sorted through his things and talked about him and moved some of his stuff into boxes to be stored away, I felt as much awed respect as befuddlement at what was around me. He’d never been a conformist, which I knew was why the cult had never gotten a firm grasp on him. He was unknowable and therefore unbindable. But his house was proof that he didn’t conform to any human expectations either, and nothing in it made sense unless you’d spent time around him.

There was an engine in the bathtub. I’m not sure what it went to. Another engine, in the beginning stages of disassemblage, rested on a blue tarp in the center of the livingroom floor, obviously the last project he’d been working on. There wasn’t much furniture - his wife had taken most of it when she left and it would have never entered his mind to replace any of it. Jessica’s cookware was in the kitchen cabinets, unused, some of it still in the original boxes, some not even fully unwrapped from their wedding shower years before. Jessica didn’t cook, she microwaved. David asked me if I thought it would be okay for him to take a glass Pyrex measuring cup because he’d broken his. I told him to take it. It had never been used.

I didn’t want anything, but knew I needed to take something. One of my husband’s solo CDs was sitting on the entertainment center and the cover, the cover I’d designed, caught my eye and brought me to the CD player to pop the tray open.

Inside was a CD single of The Way.

It was the only thing I took.

----------

My husband told me some time later that my dad and older brother had altered the scene before the police arrived. After the phonecall from me his boss had rushed him home and he’d gone up to James’ house without my knowledge. He’d thought it strange that he’d had to step around at least a dozen empty compressed air cans scattered haphazardly around the place as he entered, like they’d been used and tossed aside one after another. There had been several more on the floor around the bed. My father had told him to go back down and see how mom and I were doing, and when he returned to James’ house after the coroner’s departure, the cans were gone. Other than that he said things seemed different, but he couldn’t say quite how. Just not the same.

He told me my dad didn’t call the police until after he and Robbie had been in there at least an hour, alone with the body.

It’s not something we’ve talked about often, because there’s no satisfactory explanation for it that either of us can come up with. My mother says they probably didn’t want the police to assume the cans meant he was huffing compression fluid and accidentally killed himself, because Look at the shame and reproach that would bring on the congregation if anyone thought such a thing! We all knew he used the compressed air to clear the valves on the engines he was working on, all mechanics do, it’s common. Wouldn’t the police have accepted that explanation? Dad was the only one that spoke to them. They wrote down whatever he said, and then they left, and then the coroner came and took James away and that was that. My father, the most upright straight-and-narrow devoutly dedicated man I’ve ever known in my life, misled the police for a reason that he took with him to his own grave.

The only other person in the world who knew the truth about it took it to his grave too.

At the same time.

In the same car.

Four years later, on October 18, 2002.

----------

The big garbage bag of empty air cans and whatever else that was removed from James’ house that morning had been stashed in my dad’s garage and stayed there until a few weeks after he and Robbie’s joint funeral, when my mother asked my husband’s old boss to come and dispose of it. Scott was a man who knew people who could do things.

The evidence, whatever it was evidence of, vanished.

----------

The mystery around James never dissolved and eventually no one talked about it anymore, I guess because there was no way we could ever truly find out what happened without him here to tell us. There were a lot of details that we could never find a way to weave together into anything that made sense and a lot of it was probably inconsequential anyway. There was a girlfriend that he’d tried to keep hidden from us, a woman that was quite a bit older than him who wasn’t a member of the cult and therefore needed to be kept a secret. In the end she had convinced him to stop hiding their relationship and he’d bought her a ring. We met her all of twice before he died, and within days of his passing she left town with her brother and never came back, taking whatever she might have known with her.

James’ ex Jessica had sneaked onto the hill and broken into his house to put a dead raccoon in his kitchen sink a few days prior to his death. We were shocked when he told us she trespassed on the land often without anyone knowing, and my mother made my father fix the electric gate down at the road so that it wouldn’t open without one of three clickers in the possession of herself, my father, and me. James would have to come to her house and get hers any time he needed to leave the hill, an arrangement he agreed to because Jessica stole things from his house all the time, she would absolutely take a gate opener if she saw it.

He told us the gate wouldn’t keep her out though, and that she didn’t come in that way anyway. The only way to protect ourselves from her was to lock her up and he doubted even that would do it.

He died less than a week later, and twenty three years later we still don’t know how or why.

----------

We never felt safe on the hill again. Jessica was deranged in the worst possible way, we’d known it for a while, and James was her obsession. She’d threatened to kill him multiple times and had tried twice. We hadn’t known this, because James, big strong stoic Clint Eastwood type that he was, wasn’t about to tell anyone he was violently abused for years by a skinny little woman that everyone believed was not much more than a meek dormouse with shyness issues and a case of painful awkwardness. But we knew she was evil. We just didn’t have any proof.

The first thing my mother said after the initial emotional breakdown of finding her son dead was Jessica did this, I don’t know how but I know she did it.

I believe she was probably right. But if Jessica was anything she was wily and devious with a strong survival instinct and an uncanny ability to lie convincingly and draw sympathy onto herself. She’d convinced us for years that she was the perfect combination of sweetly harmless and endearingly clueless, but that only lasted until the day she called 911 screaming that James was beating her and then threw herself face first into a tree in their front yard and sat, calmly singing and coloring in a coloring book on the porch with blood running down her forehead, waiting for the police to arrive. The act she put on when they got there was one for the Academy, but the officers didn’t buy it.

James calmly rolled up his sleeves and showed them his scars where she’d burned him and slashed him with a kitchen knife. He pulled up his shirt and pointed out the marks she’d left on him with her teeth and nails. He hooked a finger into his mouth and showed them the empty hole where she’d knocked one of his teeth out with a baseball bat. One of the officers asked him why he hadn’t killed her and buried her somewhere on the land already.

She left in the back of the squad car, and my mother took James to the courthouse to get divorce papers started two days later.

Jessica came to his memorial service when we finally had it, several weeks after his death. She wasn’t invited but we couldn’t keep her from coming. She wore black like a widow and created a dramatic disruption complete with loud wailing and declarations of undying love, and afterward she stood to one side of the room, smirking at us with the kind of icy malice that you only see on the dangerously deranged, and then usually only in the movies. Several people commented in hushed voices, asking why she’d been allowed to come. At one point she started wailing They killed him!!, but everyone with the exception of her mother ignored her.

Her mother, who was still in our congregation, flitted around the room chatting with everyone, sobbing her heart out like it was her own son we’d just memorialized. She was an ER nurse and had been famously fired from her job at the hospital for taking locked-cabinet medications home by the purse load. She claimed she put them in her pocket to use on her shift and forgot to return them to the cabinet before leaving.

Jessica had been staying with her for a while.

----------

We fed the crowd at mom’s later that afternoon with my husband and his boss guarding the gate, making sure she didn’t try to come into my mother’s house. The police were called preemptively, and because this was a town of 300 with not much of anything else to do, a squad car was dispatched and stationed near the inlet to the main drive.

Jessica showed up not much later, like we knew she would. She drove past the police and parked a few yards down from them in plain sight, just sitting there by the side of the road, far enough away from our property that we couldn’t legally do anything about it. The officers got out and talked to her, warned her not to cause us any problems, and she fed them a woeful tale about being banned from her beloved husband’s memorial service and denied the right to say goodbye to him.

The officers knew there was no body at that service to say goodbye to. They also knew her.

My husband came up the hill and told us she was down at the road and that Scott was blocking the driveway with his truck to keep her out. I told my mother it was time to file a restraining order against her. She was living in fear and Jessica was known to be trespassing on our property frequently. No, she told me with tears in her eyes but not a sign of distress on her face. It was a look I knew, because my mother rarely showed emotion unless she was angry and the rest of the time it was this cold detachment. That would bring reproach on the congregation because everyone knows what we are. I can’t do that. I won’t let her win that way. I won’t let her cause us to bring shame on God’s name.

God’s name. I took it in vain that day.

More than once.

I was leaving in a few weeks, moving a thousand miles away. My husband and I weren’t going to be there to help her keep an eye out, and thirty eight acres of heavily wooded land is impossible to protect and easy to sneak onto from a hundred different directions, James had shown us proof of that.

God will protect us as long as we do the right thing and leave it to him, she said. He knows what she is.

I think it was just a coincidence that nothing terrible happened in the following weeks, because my faith was getting tenuous and a lot of prayers were going unanswered. But Jessica quietly disappeared back to her own world after a couple of infuriating weeks of putting herself in our paths every chance she got, and not long after that my husband and I moved away, and as we left the driveway for what we thought would be the last time he sighed and shook his head with the exasperation of a man about to say I told you so.

“That land is cursed,” he said.

I tried to disagree, though I don’t know why.

----------

Less than a mile up the road we passed a man walking. He was tall and thin and covered in the dust of a long journey with a ratty backpack strapped to his back, and as we passed him I caught his reflection in the side mirror.

It was James, I knew it in my heart every bit as strongly as I knew it couldn’t be.

He was walking away from the hill, toward the west. The way we were going. And I swear on whatever holy relic you wish to place under my hand that he raised his head and met eyes with me in the mirror, and he smiled.

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bauslut · 4 years ago

Text

migraine | hotch

warnings: soft!hotch, some cursing, slight age gap

a/n: this is my first hotch x reader fic! i’m currently struggling with a migraine n i wanted to write about hotch, so here we are. feedback & comments are appreciated! i hope you guys like it :))

summary: sometimes there are moments when the stoic, cold, aaron hotchner, cracks.

“shit,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.

“you okay?” spencer reid peers over, eyes narrowed with concern, “don’t tell me you came in today with a migraine. you need to stop doing that—“

“i did,” you mumble, throwing open a draw of your desk, “do you carry excederin by chance?”

“ummm,” the doctor bites his lip, gaze flickering to his own desk, “typically i don’t have that kind of stuff at work. you know, some research has shown that tylenol is actually more safe for you than excederin—“

“spence,” you suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut, “it wasn’t this bad earlier. i woke up with it but i was able to go about my day.”

“did you drink anything with caffeine in order to help possibly alleviate the pain?”

“i drank a coffee as i usually do,” you mutter, rising up from your seat, “i’m going to go ask around, see if anyone has anything.”

“you might want to let hotch know. he is our unit chief, after all.”

a shudder ran through your body at the sound of his name.

aaron hotchner, supervisory special agent, unit chief for the bau, your boss.

the stoic, ice cold man who rarely cracked a smile. who rarely expressed any sort of emotion other than anything related to the line of work. the man who never seemed to like you, no matter how hard you tried to establish a friendship. no matter how kind you were to him or how hard you worked.

“if i let him know he’ll send me home,” you roll your eyes, wincing as the pain sears in your skull, “he hasn’t before but i wouldn’t be surprised.”

“go to his office first,” spencer’s attention floated to a stack of papers, “at least, that’s where i would start.”

letting out a huff, you shuffle over to his office, your heart thudding against your rib-cage as you neared closer and closer. pausing at the door, you brought your knuckles to the surface, knocking softly.

“come in.” his voice was firm, cool and crisp.

slowly, you push open the door, your lower lip quivering as you run a hand through your hair, “good morning, hotch.”

the unit chief is hunched over his desk, scrawling away on a stack of paperwork. his brow is furrowed with concentration, a hand pressed against his temple, lips parted slightly. at the sound of your entrance, his head raises, tilting.

“agent (y/l/n),” he arches a brow, “is everything all right?”

“i-i have a headache,” your voice falters, “and reid told me that maybe you would have some pain meds.”

“doesn’t seem like a headache,” he muses, voice still that same monotone, “i don’t have to look at you very long to see that you’re miserable.”

“it’s a migraine.” you bite your lip, shifting in boots.

“and you came to work?”

“y-yes,” you stammer, a blush spreading through your cheeks under his intense glare.

“i have some excederin in my desk,” he remarks, fumbling through his drawers, “would you like to lay down for a bit? the couch is a bit uncomfortable but you might get a few minutes of shut-eye. i should send you home but i am aware of how valuable you are to our team. we’ll need you when the time comes.”

“you want me to—“

“some sleep probably wouldn’t hurt,” the words are soft, delicate, “i don’t want you hurting. do you need a bottle of water or something? i can grab one for you.”

“hotch you don’t have to—“

“i want to,” he murmurs, rising from his chair. the click of his dress shoes echo through the office as he retrieves a coat, “here, i don’t have a blanket so this is the best i can do.”

swallowing thickly, you reach out, grasping the wool coat, “t-thank you sir.”

“aaron,” he corrects you, “you can call me aaron, (y/n).”

“thank you, aaron.”

“you’re welcome (y/n),” his lips curve into a small grin, “i’m going to chat with rossi for a few minutes, and run some paperwork to jj.”

hesitantly, you sit on the tiny leather couch in his office, curling up and draping the coat over your frame. hotch made his way over to the door, paperwork in hand, giving you one last glance.

“sleep well, (y/n). i hope you feel better after some rest.”

“thank you,” your lashes flutter as your breathing slows, drifting off.

the door swishes open, the tiny click of the knob filling your ears as you’re lulled to sleep, the hum of the air conditioner white noise.

one foot out the door, aaron hotchner gazes at you one last time, all content and cozy, a sleepy smile plastered to your lips, strands of hair falling into your forehead, lips pursed.

the sight of you is enough to send his heart swelling, the smile broadening.

little did you know, aaron hotcher would let you in his office, sleep all you wanted, throw a wrench in his day.

as long as he got to see that beautiful smile.

whether you had a migraine or not.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch #hotch x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #bau

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amatchinwater · 3 years ago

Text

Did a little thing for Day 2 of Stackson Week 2021!

Day 2: Trapped together

Pairing: Stackson

Warnings: underage drinking

Word count: 2709

Rating: teen and up

Ao3 link

Stiles knew it was a bad idea to have a party at Lydia’s lake house in the middle of hurricane lever rain and a goddamn flood warning. What’s even worse is he’s the first person to show up! Lydia herself isn’t even here yet. The banshee was kind enough to tell him where they put the hide-a-key so he could get in and out of the storm. Scott and Isaac aren’t picking up or answering his texts. If they’re not here because they’re too busy fucking and Stiles has to be here soaked and alone, he’s going to kill them.

When Stiles gets in the house, he stomps his shoes on the mat to not track in any mud. Lyds would castrate him for that, so he takes them off just to be safe. Slipping out of his jacket, Stiles hangs it on the hook, careful not to let it drip anywhere other than the little rug underneath it. The house is empty and eerily dark. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? He’s the only fucking one here. Making his way into the kitchen, Stiles’ preturbrance only grows.

It doesn’t even look like the place is meant to house a party in the next twenty minutes. Nothing is set up. There isn't a single bag of chips or other snacks on the counter. No pizzas and sandwich platters like her birthday. A keg is not beside the island either. Just two bottles of wine with a sticky note that reads-

“Have fun?”

Oh my god! Stiles jumps and flails, nearly knocking the bottles over on the counter.

“What kind of fucking game is she playing?” Jackson snatches the note, rereading it before flicking it back towards the island.

Still clutching his wildly beating heart, Stiles gasps, “could you maybe announce yourself next time?” He collects himself- mostly. “Not all of us have your little wolf senses. You almost gave me a heart attack, you fuck.”

Jackson snorts and almost playfully bumps him with his shoulder. “Not my fault you left the front door unlocked, Stilinski.”

Fuck this. “I’m leaving.” Stiles stalks back towards the front door, yanking his jacket off the hook and grabbing his shoes. Whipping the open the door, the teen groans loudly, dropping his head back, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What are you bitching about now?” The wolf steps beside him and looks outside, his eyes widen drastically. “Holy shit!”

The lake has officially overflown since they’ve shown up and the driveway is at least three inches deep with water. Jackson’s care looks like it’s barely capable of surviving if it gets too high. Stiles almost cares enough to wonder if they should move it. This fucking storm! Now he’s stuck here with nowhere to go. Yes, he has a jeep, but the road out is no doubt a muddy mess that even Roscoe can’t navigate.

Closing the door and putting his clothes back where they were, Stiles whines, “why would she pick today to do this?” Thinking about the weather his dad forced him to watch this morning. Most cities were calling in downed power lines and massive branches flying through the streets.

She knew this storm was coming. So much so that Lydia even reminded him to wear his boots rather than his sneakers. “I guess I better call Scott, tell him not to come. No use in him getting stuck in the woods like this.” Sures, having his best friend here would make this exceptionally better. But Stiles doesn’t want to break up any fights between a stir crazy Jackson and Isaac. Fishing in his pocket, Stiles pulls out his phone and smashes the call button in annoyance.

“Stiles, hey. I’m sorry I did-” Scott answers on the second ring only to be cut off by Stiles.

“I don’t care if you and Isaac were fucking,” Jackson chuckles at his jab. “Don’t come to Lydia’s. The lake flooded and now Jackson and I can’t leave.”

“Okay,” Scott draws out the word and if Stiles wasn’t mistaken sounds a little confused. Jackson’s brows knit together at the response too. Okay, so it did sound weird then. “I’m sorry you’re stuck there, dude. But maybe this will be a good thing?”

Is he serious? “How the fuck is it supposed to be a good thing to be stuck in a goddamn house with someone who hates my guts?” Stiles’ hand slaps his thigh in exasperation. Not to mention the asshole in question was hotter than hell fire and makes it incredibly hard to be in the same room with him. Not thinking about that when Jackson can smell his chemosignals.

“Well,” Scott drawls, “you did say you had a crush on him.” Stiles blanches and goes stalk still, forgetting how to fucking breathe. Jackson snorts beside him. Stiles is going to kill Scott. “Oh my god! He’s right next to you, isn’t he?”

“I hate you so much right now.” Stiles makes a point to stare at the floor and not at the shuffling wolf beside him. “Well, thanks for getting me killed. Great best friend job, truly. See ya probably never, Scotty.” He promptly hangs up before Scott can answer.

“So,” Jackson purrs and Stiles can’t help but turn and face the wolf. His arms are crossed from where he leans against the wall, one foot propped behind him. Jackson’s face holds that stupid, sexy, douchbag smirk, “you like me?”

He’s not even going to entertain that. Stiles squints at him with his mouth slightly parted. It only makes Jackson chuckle. “I need a drink,” Stiles uses every ounce of self control not to literally run away and back into the kitchen. Sifting through the drawers until he finds the corkscrew, Stiles grabs a bottle. Once the cork is out- that actually had already been opened- Stiles could give fuck all about a glass. He takes a sip directly from the bottle, regretting it at the extensive bitter taste of wolfsbane.

Clearly that one’s for Jackson. He’s courteous enough to slide the wine across the island when Jackson is back in the room. The wolf stares at him as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece and drinks from it, not giving a damn to wipe it after Stiles’ drank first. The other boy just watches before his brain recovers and he opens his own bottle. Setting the cork and opener aside, Stiles grabs the wine and leaves the wolf in the kitchen to go sit in the living room where Lydia keeps the playstation.

Plopping on the couch, Stiles lets himself sink into the cushion and takes several swigs. Actually rather enjoying the slight burn and the warmth that quickly settles in his belly. He can very easily just sit here and watch tv like Jackson doesn’t even exist. Stiles can go to literally anywhere else to be away from the wolf if need be. He cannot believe that Jackson found out he likes him.

Fucking Scott.

It takes a few minutes for Jackson to join him. Stiles already has Supernatural playing and has killed a good third of his wine before the wolf is sitting next to him. Like right next to him. One nervous leg bounce and their thighs or knees will touch. Seriously? Lydia has two couches, a chaise lounge, and two armchairs in her living room. So why is he so close?

Scratch that initial thought. There’s like six other rooms in this big ass house that Jackson could’ve gone to. Why here? Stiles drinks more.

Jackson takes another small sip, looking like he’s barely drank anything from his own bottle before saying, “I have a secret to tell you.”

He fights the eyeroll only just, “what information could you possibly have that I would care about?” Amber eyes stay glued to the flat screen.

“I don’t hate you, Stiles.”

“Oh?” He asks with mock interest. Even though there’s something tickling at his heart that Jackson didn’t call him ‘idiot’ or ‘Stilinski’. He can’t allow himself to fall for the wolf’s tricks. He won’t let the rug get yanked out from under him.

“Quite the opposite actually.”

Stiles snorts and turns to make some smart ass retort. But his ‘yeah right’ gets stuck on his tongue finding Jackson’s face mere inches from his own. He gulps. Clearing his throat, Stiles takes a big sip before putting his bottle on the small table beside him. Too fuzzy and warm to process this, Stiles scooches until he’s pressing against the armrest.

Jackson also places his bottle on the coffee table before sliding closer. Forcing Stiles to half turn into the couch while the wolf puts an arm on either side of him, completely encasing Stiles. “I like you,” he presses further, “a lot.” Jackson leans in until their noses brush, “tell me if you want me to stop.”

Blame the wine. Blame his hormones for not wanting him to stop. Hell, blame everyone and everything, Stiles included. But he does have a massive crush on Jackson. Even though he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. The guy’s a prick. He has no problem letting people know that he’s better than them. Making damn sure to flaunt his money too. As if that makes him hotter or something. It doesn’t.

No, it’s the icy blue eyes that make Stiles want to learn their secrets and harvest the knowledge. The wolf’s stupid jaw that’s perfect and Stiles just wants to bite it. He;s seen Jackson naked numerous times- thank you locker room shower’s forgotten concept of privacy. But god damn, when Jackson smiles- not his asshole smirk, but genuine smile- Stiles’ lungs and knees forget how to function. Despite his actions earlier, the teen is actually pretty happy to be stuck here.

Only acting as though he hates Jackson because he was simply following the wolf’s lead. His eyes flick to Jackson’s bottle of wine- its contents too hard to see in the dark green glass from this distance- and back to hooded baby blues. There’s only two reasons Stiles can believe that this is actually happening right now.

Jackson’s drunk. Because Stiles doesn’t understand the extent in which wolfsbane affects werewolf's tolerance. Which would mean the ex-kanima has no idea what he’s doing and should go sleep it off. Stiles hopes it’s this because the latter is just too painful.

Jackson’s fucking with him. Surely he doesn’t have actual feelings for Stiles. Maybe the wolf found out he’s bi and wanted to tease him about it. Although, something tells him that Danny would murder Jackson if he ever found out. Still. This is Stiles. Lowest on the lacrosse totem pole and not the wolf’s best friend. Is Jackson that cruel though?

Beautiful, parted pink lips get closer, so Stiles whispers, “you’re just drunk,” and turns his head away, hoping that’s the case here. Waiting for the joke to play out.

“I’m really not.” Jackson reaches over to grab his drink. There’s maybe three sips missing when he dangles the bottle for proof. “See?” The wolf puts it back, returning with a smirk and a cocked brow, “now will you let me kiss you?” Jackson chuckles, it’s a breathy sound, but doesn’t make to move closer. Leaving it to Stiles.

He’s not falling for that trap. The prove-to-me-you-want-it-so-I-can-kick-you-down trap by making Stiles lean in. “So you’re fucking with me then?” He should’ve known better.

The other boy looks confused and a little offended. Jackson leans back farther, still sitting close, but no longer in Stiles’ personal space. He actually wants him to come back, but how could he ever tell the wolf that when this is just a game? “Why would I fuck with you about this?” Jackson’s voice is soft and full of so much emotion that Stiles almost believes him.

“Uh, because that’s what you do?” Stiles gestures wildly like it should have been obvious. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that we’re not even friends. You were literally my bully when we were kids. I don’t- and i-it only got worse when I developed a crush on Lydia. Which I get, she was your girlfr-”

“What’s not why I was a dick.” The wolf cuts him off with a shake of his head. Stiles squints an eye at him, mouth still hanging open from the word that didn’t finish. “I was jealous.”

“Why the fuck would you be jealous of me?” Stiles scoffs and Jackson ducks his head with a chuckle. “Lydia never even looked at me while you were together.”

Jackson flashes a bemused grin when he looks back, “I was jealous of Lydia, you idiot.” The name usually bitten out comes with a tone that suggests it’s meant to be a term of endearment.

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t fawning over you like your little fan club, okay? My bad. You’re right, you’re incredibly hot and I should’ve stroked your ego by putting you some fucking pedestal-” Jackson swallows whatever other words and the surprised squeak from Stiles’ lips. He stares bug eyed at the wolf’s closed eyes. Jackson presses closer, his hand cupping the other boy’s cheeks while his tongue slides against Stiles’ bottom lip. Entrance isn’t given, he can’t really, Stiles is too shocked to do so.

The wolf pulls away, still holding Stiles’ face, “I didn’t care that you thought she was attractive.” Jackson drops a hand and lifts his hips, pulling one of Stiles’ legs until the human gets the massage and- for some fucking reason- lays on the couch. The wolf’s hips immediately settle into the space created and Stiles can feel just how much Jackson wants this. Him. “I wanted to be the one you had a crush on because of the massive one I have on you.”

That’s a lot to process. If Jackson liked him then- “why did you make my life hell?”

Jackson’s free hand falls to Stiles’ hip, rubbing softly and the other props himself on the armrest behind Stiles’ head. “I didn’t know how to handle the fact that I suddenly like guys. Well, a guy.” The wolf sighs, “Lydia knew and agreed to keep my secret as long as I needed her to. I’m sorry I treated you like that.”

Stiles has never seen him act so soft. Having Derek as an Alpha and a proper back must really be working for Jackson. It makes him charming in a way that his jerk persona never could. Being emotionally balanced and all that.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. And I’ll know if you’re lying. So don’t do me any favors and don’t hide from me either.” The warning is evident. Don’t say it and not mean it. And don’t mean it but not day it. Otherwise he’ll walk. “Will you please, let me fucking kiss you?”

Stiles fists his fingers in the wolf’s shirt- half expecting Jackson to snap at wrinkling his expensive clothes- to push him away or pull him closer, the other boy really doesn’t know. Until his arm moves of its own volition and Jackson’s mouth gets drawn to him.

The wolf chuckles against his lips, “finally.” The hand on his hip grips tighter and the other comes back to his jaw. Jackson tilts his head up to deepen the kiss. Jackson kisses like he wants to swallow Stiles whole. Maybe he does. Maybe Stiles would let him. Panting he pulls away again, and the other teen bites back a whine. “I have one more question and then I promise I’ll shut up.”

The human playfully rolls his eyes, “what is it?”

“Be with me.” Jackson states. Stiles cocks his head to the side with a chuckle, that wasn’t really a question. But his heart skips a beat nonetheless at the implication of the wolf’s words. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Stiles is nodding before the request is completely out of Jackson’s beautiful face. “Fuck yeah, dude.” The wolf breathes out a laugh at the ridiculousness. “Now just kiss me. Please?”

“Whatever you want,” Jackson grins and presses his body in further, claiming Stiles’ lips as his own.

Stiles is now stupidly happy about this storm locking them in Lydia’s lake house. He got a boyfriend out if.

#stackson #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #stiles x jackson #teen wolf #ao3 fic #stacksonweek2021

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