#oh look she's alive and actually editing the fic she was supposed to post months ago | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jamaisjoons · 5 years ago

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love alive ⤑ jjk | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party. 〞post break up au. exes to lovers au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: jungkook x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 17k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: mentions of alcohol, swearing, so much angst, pining? i guess, they’re both broken up but still love each other so there’s that lmao, reader emotionally cheats a fair amount, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, sub!reader, pussy eating, hair pulling, fingering, dirty talk, this was supposed to be soft sex but idk what happened, okay it’s kinda soft but also feral, tender feral sex, aka the seraphjoon vibe, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, multiple orgasms

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: YEEEHAW LOOK I DID SOMETHING !! i had sudden inspo for this fic and while it HURTS it doesn’t hurt too bad i dont think. anyway, i hope you enjoy it but its like 3am so i’m going to bed now hawyeet

⇥ part of the mixtape series

⏤ edited by my wonderful beta @shadowsremedy

One late Friday evening, Jungkook finds himself in his apartment. He’s currently sat on the sofa, simply staring off into space as he waits for his date to return. Jungkook doesn’t really remember much about her, they’d just been to dinner and try as he might, he just hadn’t been able to focus on the conversation. One reason being none other than it had been a completely stilted conversation - first dates were always awkward - but paired with the fact he barely knows her, and that he’d been on about seventeen different first dates in the last three months, he’d found himself unable to really keep the conversation going.

Of course, the second - and more major - reason, would be that she’s not you.

But Jungkook would rather not think about that right now.

“Do you have any wine?” Jungkook’s date calls out. Breaking out of his daze, Jungkook’s eyes come back into focus as he trains his attention back onto her. Eyebrows slightly furrowed, he scrambles for her name. Jiha? Jihyo? Jihye! That’s it. Jihye looks at him expectantly, waiting for his answer.

“Uh, maybe. I don’t know,” comes Jungkook’s distracted answer, “there may be some in the bottom cupboard on the left-hand side,” he continues nonchalantly - not really thinking about it. He thinks he remembers seeing an open bottle there, but again, he doesn’t drink wine all that often so he doesn’t really care. He watches Jihye rummage around in his kitchen, her short black dress riding further up the backs of her thighs - and Jungkook knows he should feel some sort of attraction towards her - she’s incredibly beautiful - not to mention her body’s practically perfect - and yet, he feels… nothing.

Why is he on a date with her again? Oh yes, because she frequented the same gym as he did and had asked him out randomly earlier in the week. Jungkook lets out a little sigh, his head falls back onto the back of the sofa. Staring up at the ceiling, his mind casts back to all the dates he’s had recently. Most of them approach him and he doesn’t really know why he keeps saying yes - but he has an inkling it’s to do with the fact that he’s still not over you. Though, that doesn’t really matter.

You’re long gone, and the last Jungkook had heard about you, was that you’d met someone else - someone willing to give you more than he could - someone willing to give you what you want. His heart constraints at the thought of you, but he shakes the thoughts out of his head. He needs to move on - it’s been long enough. Almost a year. Well, it’s been exactly seven months, twenty-three days and nine hours since you walked out on him, but who’s keeping count? Certainly not him.

“Oh! I found some. It’s already open - do you mind if I have some?” Jihye asks, and reflexively, Jungkook finds himself rolling his eyes. If he hadn’t wanted her to have some, he wouldn’t have told her where the wine was. Biting his tongue, however, Jungkook just lets out a non-committal hum. Once done pouring herself a glass of wine, Jihye returns to him while taking a sip of her wine. Suddenly, she stops, her face twisting in disgusting as she spits her wine back into her glass. Own features twisting in disgust, Jungkook regards her through guarded eyes, wondering what was going on.

“Gross! Why does this wine have pieces of cork in it? Also, I think it’s gone off - it tastes weird,” Jihye gripes as she takes her glass back into his kitchen. Barely paying attention to her words, Jungkook stares in unsettlement at the bottle. The dark green glass glints under the warm kitchen lights, his heart lurching as he recognises the bottle.

With unfocused eyes, he stares at the bottle, unmoving as his mind buzzes with what feels like static. Hazily, he registers that Jihye is speaking, but through the thick fog of his memories, Jungkook’s mind barely notices what she’s saying. Nonetheless, the exact moment Jihye begins tilting the bottle over the sink, attempting to flush its contents, Jungkook jumps to his feet.

“No! Don’t throw it out,” Jungkook’s voice thunders, his long legs carrying him into the kitchen swiftly. Jihye startles, looking at him in dumbfounded incredulity.

“What? Why? It’s got pieces of cork in it, and it tastes funny,” Jihye replies, turning back and beginning to pour the wine again. Abruptly, Jungkook snatches the bottle out of her hand, causing Jihye to jump.

“It’s not off, it just tastes like that. It’s bad wine,” Jungkook mutters as he puts the stopper back in the neck of the bottle.

“All the more reason to throw it out?” Jihye suggests, Jungkook’s jaw flexing at her words.

“I’m not throwing it out,” Jungkook replies, his voice hardened. Jihye cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Come on Jungkook, I think you should throw it out,” Jihye says coyly, a smile crawling onto her face. Imperceptibly, Jungkook’s eyes narrow. The flirtatiousness in her demeanour isn’t lost on him, nor is the fact that she likely thinks he’s joking. But Jungkook isn’t joking. He’s not throwing the wine out - whether it has pieces of cork in it, whether it tastes bad, or even if it had been off, he’s not throwing it out.

“No,” Jungkook says, his voice full of resolve. Jihye startles as she realises he’s not being playful. She raises her eyebrow once again, cocking her hip to the side.

“What’s so special about it? It’s just a bottle of wine,” Jihye points out. Of course, to anyone, it would be just a bottle of wine - but to him, it’s so much more.

It’s the last thing he has left of you.

When you’d broken up with him, ending your five-year relationship, you’d moved everything out of his apartment. The stupid cushions Jungkook hated - really, they only took up more space on the sofa, meaning he couldn’t lounge about properly - your hundred and one towels, even the sheets: the ones that had smelled like you. They’re all gone, along with all your clothes and belongings, leaving a half-empty apartment, and a hole in Jungkook’s heart. Every and any trace of you had slowly been removed from his flat and consequently his life. And now, he’s left with just this bottle of wine. - the one you’d forgotten about because it’d been hidden at the back of the cupboard.

“Jungkook? Are you listening to me? What’s so great about this bottle?” Jihye asks. Once again, however, Jungkook’s mind wanders to you. Unable to pull away from the bottle, Jihye fades from the world, her voice becoming distant and hazy as he recedes back into his memories.

Flashback - three years ago

A knock resounding at Jungkook’s door, he takes a deep breath. Looking at himself in the mirror one last time, he brushes the non-existent lint off his blazer. Then, running his fingers through his hair, he nods at himself and leaves his bedroom. Approaching the door, he swings it open, a large smile painted on his face as he spots you.

“Hello, beautiful,” Jungkook greets the moment he spots you. However, the moment he actually sees you, he finds himself stopping. Dressed in a flowing sundress, a dazzling smile on your face and bright, twinkling eyes - you look positively radiant. A loud whoosh of air escapes his nose, his eyes softening at you, “you look gorgeous,” he breathlessly says, his voice low.

Your smile brightening, you grin up at him, “Happy third anniversary!” you call out cheerily. Jungkook bites his lip, and unable to stop himself, swoops down and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Happy anniversary,” he mutters back, his lips brushing yours with every movement. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you chew on it while giving him a smile. Even three years into your relationship, Jungkook still managed to set butterflies aflutter in the pits of your stomach with the slightest touch.

Swiftly, you step into his apartment, easily navigating your way towards his kitchen as you place the bags of food and wine onto his counter. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” you ask curiously, peering at your boyfriend through the corner of your eyes.

However, Jungkook only steps up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Nope!” he happily replies, popping the ‘p’ sound, “you said you’d rather just have a quiet night in. Besides, we went out for the cruise-ship dinner thing last year,” Jungkook continues, humming in thought at the memory. A smile curls on your own lips and you twist in his arms, winding your own around his waist as you place your head on his chest.

“Mmm, that was a good anniversary. But if I remember correctly, someone ended up being seasick from drinking too much,” you say pointedly, tilting your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his sternum. Despite his cheeks flushing a rosy shade, Jungkook scowls.

“It’s not my fault… the alcohol was stronger than I thought it was,” he mumbles under his breath. You shake your head in fondness, but then, your lips curl into a slight frown. Every anniversary, Jungkook had taken you somewhere - your first, he’d taken you on a ski trip, your second, he’d taken you on a weekend break to Jeju island, and of course, your third had been a cruise-ship dinner. This year, however, you’d been recently promoted to the department head of your company, but that had meant additional stress and weight to an already heavy workload. As a result, you’d asked Jungkook if he was okay with just a quiet night in - because there was nothing you wanted more than to just spend some time with your loving boyfriend.

“Are you sure this is okay? If you want to go out or something, we still can,” you ask. However, Jungkook only shakes his head once again while pulling you closer into him.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. Honestly. I just want to spend some time with you. Whether that’s here in my apartment, or in yours, or on an expensive date, or even in a garbage dump, it doesn’t matter. I just want to be with you,” Jungkook grins before smacking a sloppy kiss on your forehead. Face twisting in disgust, your earlier doubt about Jungkook being happy with your choice of date fades away, and you playfully smack him before pushing him away.

“Ew gross! You just slobbered all over me,” you gripe, rubbing the wet spot on your forehead.

Waggling his eyebrows, “and there’s more where that came from,” Jungkook playfully teases. A light snort escapes your lips as you shake your head before turning around.

“Yeah, whatever. I bought wine and steak for dinner. It’s not much but I don’t know, I felt like being classy,” you casually shrug while turning to the bag of groceries Jungkook hadn’t noticed. Head cocked to the side, he grimaces at the bottle of wine. Suddenly, you stop, your lips curling in a frown, “Although… in hindsight, I should have bought more food - knowing your bottomless stomach,” you sigh, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, you probably should have,” Jungkook deadpans. Lips twisting into a pout, your shoulders deflate at his words. Jungkook sees your disappointment, his heart dropping in his chest at the thought of upsetting you. He’d meant it as a joke - really, he had - but you’d clearly taken it seriously. Stepping up to you, Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist once again, his chin resting on your shoulder and hands clasps around your belly.

“I was only joking, sweetheart,” Jungkook says lowly, his face nuzzling into your hair while he presses a kiss to the outer shell of your ear. “Wine and steak sound good. Very classy,” he continues, pressing another kiss to your flesh - this time the column of your throat.

Instantly, your lips curl into a victorious smirk, “Okay, great!” you say, your shoulders immediately perking up. Jungkook blinks at your sudden change in demeanour, his nose scrunching when he realises what’s just happened.

“Hey! Did you do that on purpose?” he asks, his eyes narrowing into slits, his gaze full of accusation. Face twisting into a picture of innocence, you smile at him coyly - and if he didn’t know you as well as he did, he’d buy it - but Jungkook sees the sparkle of mischief in your eyes.

Before he can open his mouth, however, you’re already cutting him off, “Where’s your corkscrew?” you ask, rummaging through his drawers. Jungkook watches you search through the utensils, your lips curling downwards in concentration.

His own lips twisting, Jungkook approaches you, helping you look for the corkscrew. However, after a few moments, “Oh. I don’t think I have one,” Jungkook finally says. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, Jungkook wonders if he ever even bought one, but he doesn’t think he has.

“Kook! How are we supposed to drink this now?” you whine, a pout forming on your face again. Shrugging, Jungkook whips out his phone.

“I’m sure we can like, find another way,” Jungkook replies, already googling a way to open the wine bottle. Curiously, you peer over his shoulder, Jungkook’s arm instinctively wrapping around you as he scrolls with one hand. Head tilting upwards, you smile at your boyfriend, his features slightly scrunched in concentration. Unable to help yourself, you lean up and press a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. The moment your lips brush his skin, the corners of Jungkook’s lips twitch before he twists his head and presses a kiss to the temple of your head.

Arms wrapping around his waist, you lean your head on his bicep, “find anything yet?” you ask, Jungkook humming in response.

“We could use a blowtorch,” he replies casually.

“Do you have a blowtorch?”

“Fair enough. We could smack it against the wall using something to cushion it.”

“And risk breaking the bottle? No thanks.” Like that, Jungkook continues reading out suggestions: from pumping it out using a bicycle tire pump, all the way to slapping it out with a shoe, only for you to refute them. Eventually, however, with no other option, you and Jungkook eventually try using a screwdriver. Which brings you to now, almost fifteen minutes later.

“Oh my god, I think I’ve got it,” Jungkook yells in triumph. You’re currently sat on the kitchen island, your legs dangling as you watch your boyfriend struggle with the bottle. About five minutes after attempting to open the bottle, you’d conceded defeat. Your boyfriend, however, is much more competitive than you are, and he’d downright refused to let the bottle win. Thus, for the last ten minutes, you’d watched your boyfriend futilely dig, and twist, the screwdriver into the cork.

Quirking your eyebrow at your boyfriend, your eyes rove over him. He’s currently stood with a victorious grin, the apples of his cheeks bunched up around his eyes. He’s holding out the wine bottle, the metal head of the screwdriver stuck into the neck of the bottle. Hell, the cork isn’t even in one piece anymore - bits and pieces of it littered on the floor around him from where Jungkook had dug it out in an attempt to bury the screwdriver into the wood stopper.

“Have you now?” you drawl sarcastically. It certainly doesn’t look like he’s got it. For one, the cork is still in the bottle.

Sneering at your snide tone, “Watch this!” Jungkook calls out, and then, grabbing the handle of the tool, he pulls as hard as he can. A loud pop resounds through the air and you startle slightly, watching as Jungkook holds the screwdriver - with half the cork attached to it - in the air.

“Oh my god! You did it!” you call in surprise, jumping off the table and walking towards him.

Puffing out his chest, “and you didn’t believe in me! But I did it anyway,” Jungkook says proudly.

You roll your eyes before gesturing to the half-broken cork, “yeah barely.”

“Tomato, tomato. Potato, potato. The point is, I did it, and we can have wine now” Jungkook replies. With another roll of your eyes, you cross his kitchen and pull two wine glasses out of his cupboard.

“Yeah, yeah. My knight in shining suit. Now come on! I’ve literally been waiting twenty-five minutes to drink this,” you say, holding out the glasses towards him. Nodding, Jungkook pours the wine, filling the tumblers halfway before placing the bottle back on the island.

He takes the glasses from your hand, placing them on the dining table and you follow him, placing the plates of food onto the table. The two of you take seats opposite each other, Jungkook raising his glass towards you in a salute. For a few moments, the two of you tuck into your food, the muffled sounds of your joint chewing filling the air.

Then, “this steak is cold,” you grumble, a grimace settling on your face. In hindsight, after spending all that time trying to open the wine, the two of you should have heated your food - but in the triumph of actually opening the wine, you’d both forgotten.

“Yeah, and this wine is fucking gross,” Jungkook gripes, his own features twisting in disgust. Blinking owlishly, you reach for your own glass, sipping the burgundy liquid. The minute it washes over your tastebuds, you find yourself gagging. It’s sour - the acrid stench of it only burning your nasal cavity and intensifying the bitterness of the wine.

Forcibly, you swallow it down before spitting and sputtering into your hand, “yeah, and it’s got pieces of cork in it. Gross, what a waste of a hundred and fifty thousand won,” you scowl. Immediately, Jungkook baulks.

“A hundred and fifty thousand won? For that trash?” Jungkook yells in incredulity. You look at him in surprise, the two of you simply staring at each other. Then, all of a sudden, the two of you burst out laughing. Neither of you has any real reason for why you’re both laughing. Perhaps it was the ridiculous price of the incredibly poortasting wine, perhaps it was that Jungkook had spent a good fifteen minutes struggling with said wine or perhaps it was because even after all that struggle, neither of you could stomach the taste. Either way, the absurdity of the situation isn’t lost on either of you, and you both can’t help but laugh hysterically.

“Man, I can’t believe you spent that much money on that shit,” Jungkook giggles, wiping away at his tears.

Lower lip pulled between your teeth, you grin at Jungkook, “I can’t believe you spent so much time trying to open it,” you quip. Shaking your heads, you both resume eating your food, forgoing the wine.

Once the two of you are done, you help Jungkook clear the table. Jungkook watches you throw out the leftovers before placing the plates into the sink. The kitchen lights are dimmed low, the amber light reflecting off of your skin and silhouetting you in its glow. The bright walls off his kitchen only help to highlight your body, the hem of your dress swishing around your thighs with every movement. His darkened, lust-filled gaze rakes over you and he can’t help but swallow thickly when his eyes rest on the smooth curve of your ass.

Helpless against his desire for you, you feel Jungkook’s arms wrap around your body. Loosely, his hands rest on your hips, the pads of his fingertips gently digging into your flesh. “Do you wanna head to bed?” Jungkook asks, his voice breathy as he begins peppering kisses along the column of your neck. You raise your eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanour. Nevertheless, you’d be lying if you said his light, attentive touch wasn’t clouding your head in hazy lust.

“All of a sudden?” you ask, your tone light and teasing. Jungkook responds by digging his fingers harder into your hips, pulling them back so your ass is flush against his crotch.

“If I’m being honest, I’ve wanted to get you out of this dress as soon as I saw you in it. You look beautiful. I love you so much,” Jungkook rasps in response, lightly nipping at the sensitive flesh just below your earlobe. Twisting in his hold, you wind your hands around his neck, carding your fingers through his hair at the back of his nape before lightly playing with the locks.

“I love you too,” you breathe out, “take me to bed and I’ll show you how much,” you breathlessly whisper back. A shuddering exhale escaping his lips, Jungkook’s mouth descends onto yours. Instantly, the two of you lose yourselves into each other; the wine bottle long forgotten.

“Jungkook? Are you even paying attention to me?” Jihye suddenly calls out, her hands waving in front of his face. Blinking blankly, Jungkook’s vision comes back into focus. He looks around his apartment - it’s still the same as it was two years ago. The kitchen lights are still low, and his walls are bright, and that same bottle of wine sits on his marble counter - practically mocking him - but you’re not here. It’s not you standing in his kitchen.

“I- you need to leave,” Jungkook chokes out, his voice hoarse and his throat thick with emotion. Jihye looks at him in dumbfounded bewilderment. She opens her mouth to argue, but then stops, her words dying on her lips. Taking in Jungkook’s distant gaze, Jihye notices his attention is once again on the bottle. With a scoff, she rolls her eyes before snorting. Then, grabbing her purse, she stalks out of his apartment - but not before slamming the door.

Jungkook doesn’t care.

Instead, he stares at the dark bottle of wine. His reflection glints back at him, his distorted face mirroring the despair and sadness etched onto his face. Once again, he loses himself into his memories. Memories of when the two of you were still together, memories of you smiling at him, of you kissing him, memories of the two of you, when you were both happy - and together. But not anymore. Now, those memories that he’d once cherished - once taken for granted - are tainted: bruised and tarnished with the restless memories of you leaving; of you walking out of this very same apartment and leaving him all alone.

The warm memories that had once been his saving grace, now leave him cold, with a deep ache in his chest.

With one final glance at the bottle, Jungkook buries his head in his hands, and then lets out a heartwrenching sob.

In the comfort of your own home, you lie in your bed, staring up into nothingness. The bedroom is completely bathed in darkness, not even a single sliver of moonlight peeking in through the blackout-blinds you had installed. After your third anniversary with Jungkook, you’d moved in with him, and your ex-boyfriend had hated any and every inkling of light while he was trying to sleep. He simply couldn’t sleep unless he was in complete darkness. Of course, after two years of living with him, you’d also gotten used to it - and now, you aren’t able to sleep without complete darkness either.

Yet, you still aren’t able to sleep. There are many reasons for your lack of sleep. Many of them are to do with your ex-boyfriend. It’s been just over half a year since you and Jungkook broke up. Almost eight months now since you walked out of his life. Eight months since you reluctantly broke off your five-year relationships. But you had no choice. You and Jungkook had wanted different things in life and though heartbreaking, you knew it was best for the two of you to go your separate ways then and there.

Of course, knowing that didn’t make it any easier. Nor does it help qualm the crushing bitterness, nor the misery, you feel at Jungkook’s absence in your life.

Though, you figure, those feelings are a given. After all, the two of you had been together for five whole years. Five years is a long time to spend with someone - and for the entirety of those years, Jungkook had been your one and only - the man you had loved with your entire heart. The man you still love with all your heart. It’s not like you could just forget five years of love in a day - nor in eight months. Hell, you don’t think you could forget him, nor the love you feel for him, in your entire lifetime.

Thus, in the absolute dark of your bedroom, you stare up at the ceiling. Though, you don’t really see it. No, all you see is darkness. A low sigh escapes your lips and you shift on your bed, trying to find a comfortable position. But try as you might, you simply can’t find one. And it has every reason to do with the man occupying your bed - if you remove your residual feelings for Jungkook out of the picture. Tilting your head slightly, you turn to your side. Even in the darkness, you can make out the obscure outline of your current boyfriend’s - though you use that term loosely, because really, he’s a family friend you’ve known a while and your mother had set you up with - face as he snores lightly. With another sigh, you turn your head back to stare at the ceiling.

Other than thoughts of Jungkook, one of the main reasons you can’t sleep is: you’re on the wrong side of the bed. For as long as you’d been with Jungkook, even before you lived together, Jungkook had always slept on the left, and you’d slept on the right. It wasn’t like you’d purposely decided on that, it’s just how it had worked out. Jungkook always slept on the left, and you on the right - before the two of you had even met. And after you’d met? Well, it had just clicked - as if the two of you were made for each other.

But now, you’re on the left.

And Minhyuk is on the right.

And it’s not right. Nor does it feel right. In more than one sense of the word.

Shifting once again, you lowly groan when a sting of pain shoots through your lower abdomen, bringing you to another reason you can’t sleep. You’re on your period, and with your period, comes the cursed cramps. No matter how much you try, you simply can’t seem to find a comfortable position to lie in. That, paired with the fact that you’re on the wrong side of the bed, and the plaguing thoughts of Jungkook, has insomnia gripping at your head. Momentarily, you’d considered getting up and heating up a hot water bottle to soothe your pain, but you simply can’t find it in yourself to get out of bed - not when moving only seemed to fuel the fire in the pits of your uterus.

Once again, you turn to Minhyuk. Briefly, you consider waking him up and asking him to bring you the hot water bottle, and you even open your mouth to call him. But then, you pause, the words dying on your lips as your throat constricts. This scene is almost too familiar to you, and in the dark of your bedroom, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the past.

Flashback - two years ago

Shifting uncomfortably, you’re woken from your sleep by the searing pain in your lower abdomen. Through the haze of your sleep, you let out quiet whimpers and continue shuffling in bed, trying to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep in. However, try as you might, you simply can’t seem to find one. This time, when you shift again, you feel Jungkook’s arm lazily wrap around you.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jungkook asks while shuffling closer towards him. His words cause you to still, your shoulders relaxing as you feel his warm presence surround you. Your boyfriend moves his head to just over your shoulder, his hand sluggishly rubbing circles over your stomach. He nudges your t-shirt to the side - really, it’s his - and presses a tender kiss to the skin of your shoulder that he’s just exposed. Before you can even say anything, or alert him to exactly what is wrong, “do you have bad cramps again?” he sighs out. Despite your pain, you find your face softening, a soft smile curling on your lips at the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t wanna wake you up,” you reply lowly. Jungkook only shakes his head, his long hair tickling the flesh of your collarbone.

“Tis okay,” Jungkook slurs sleepily. Then, before you can tell him to go back to sleep, Jungkook is already crawling out of bed. You hear a loud thud, followed by a pained groan, “I’m okay. I just- didn’t see the end of the bed,” Jungkook mumbles through the haziness of his sleep. Instantly, his words cause concern to well up in your chest, however, before you can ask him if he’s okay, he’s leaving your bedroom.

Left alone, you flick the lamp on your bedside table on and sit up in bed with a wince. You take in short, deep breath, trying your best to soothe the vengeful cramps in the pit of your stomach. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think your uterus was tying itself into knots. Another sharp sting and you let out a low whimper, doubling over in pain as you clutch your stomach.

Moments later, you feel a hand soothingly rub your lower back as your boyfriend - now more awake - crouches down beside your side of the bed. Large, doe eyes stare at you in concern as he passes you your hot water bottle. “Here you go, baby,” Jungkook says softly, placing the fuzzy bottle on your lower stomach. The warm heat instantly soothes your cramps, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you feel the pain begin to subside.

“Thank you,” you rasp out, but Jungkook only shakes his head. Then, he thrusts his hand and a glass in front of your face.

When you quirk your eyebrow at him, “painkillers,” Jungkook merely responds. Your face crumples, your heart speeding up in your chest. Gratefully, you accept the pills from him, popping them in your mouth before chugging down the glass of water. When you’re done, Jungkook takes the glass from your hand and places it back onto your bedside table. Once done, he helps you shift back down into a laying position as he tucks you into bed. Then, he crawls under the sheets himself.

You feel the left side of the bed shift before Jungkook slides in. Rolling closer to you, he presses his chest against your back while throwing an arm to rest loosely over your waist. Lazily, he rubs his hand over your hips, soothingly massaging the skin while pressing tender kisses to the back of your shoulder. “Are you feeling better?” Jungkook mumbles. His voice is low, heavy with sleep, and you can’t help but shudder as it reverberates through your eardrum.

“Mmm. Much better. Thank you,” you whisper back, more than grateful at his thoughtful gestures. If there was one thing you absolutely adored about Jungkook, it would be his utter thoughtfulness. More often than not, you just wouldn’t need to tell him what was wrong; after almost four years together, he could simply read you like a book. He knew what you wanted and when you wanted it. He knew when to leave you alone, or when to help you. He could read your moods as if he was well versed in all things that surrounded you. More than anything, however, Jungkook was simply empathetic towards you - and it made you fall for him all the more.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words easily falling from your lips. You feel Jungkook’s lips curl against your shoulder, an indolent smile playing at his lips.

Without even a moment of hesitation, “I love you too,” he mumbles back. Then, the two of you fall back into silence: with you clutching the hot water bottle to your uterus, and Jungkook genially rubbing circles into the flesh of your hips.

Another sharp pain ricochets through your uterus, pulling you out of your reverie. A low whimper escapes your throat and you shift in bed again. However, unlike Jungkook, Minhyuk stays fast asleep. Once again, you contemplate waking him up and you don’t want to, but the pain is almost too much. Before you can stop yourself, “Minhyuk?” you whimper out while gently shaking him.

Minhyuk lets out a groggy groan before, “what’s wrong, ____?” he asks, his voice heavily laden with sleep.

“C-can you go into the kitchen and get me my hot water bottle, please? I’ve got really bad cramps,” you whisper hoarsely. Minhyuk only groans in response.

“____… I’ve got to wake up for work in three hours. Can you not get it yourself?” Minhyuk asks sleepily. There’s no malice in his tone, nor upset or anger, just drowsy question - and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it - but still, you can’t help the way your stomach drops at his words. Biting your lip, you suck in a sharp breath, the movement making you whimper in pain again. Clearly, Minhyuk hears the sound escape your lips, because he’s sliding out of bed - albeit begrudgingly - and leaving your bedroom.

Five minutes later, he walks back and passes you the hot water bottle. With a small voice, you thank him, Minhyuk grunting in response. The right side of the mattress tilts and you feel Minhyuk slide back into bed. “Goodnight,” Minhyuk mumbles, though you can tell he’s already falling asleep again. Briefly, he pecks your cheek before turning his back towards you. Short moments later, his light snores fill the quiet air of the night, leaving you alone once again.

Chewing your lip, you place the hot water bottle onto your stomach, allowing the warm, soothing sensation to assuage the pain of your cramps. Your mind casts back to Jungkook, and the way he took care of you on nights like this, and then you turn to Minhyuk once again. You can still feel his lips on your cheek - from where he’d kissed you - but it’s not the same. Minhyuk is nice, and though reluctantly, he still got out of bed to get you your water bottle.

But it’s not the same.

It’s not the same when he kisses you on the cheek, or brings you your water bottle. It’s not the same when he buys you flowers, or takes you out to dinner. It’s not the same when he kisses you, or when you sleep together. It’s not the same, because while nice, all of his gestures are empty. There’s no love in them, no thoughtfulness, no passion. Minhyuk is nice - and he does things out of nicety - but he also does them out of obligation.

And it’s not the same.

Because there is no love in them.

Because he’s not Jungkook.

Because he won’t ever be.

A month and a half later, you find yourself nervously staring at the brass-gold number plates of your brother’s apartment. You haven’t seen Hoseok in a few months - well, nine months to be exact. Nine months on this day. Wow. It’s really been nine months since you broke up with Jungkook, huh? It definitely feels like it’s been longer. If anything, it feels like an eternity. Though, you suppose, it must, since you’d gone from spending almost every day with him to suddenly not seeing him. It had been hard, and multiple times, you’ve wondered if you should just go back - but you know you can’t. You’d broken up for reasons - serious reasons - reasons that had meant a lot to you.

All these months, you’ve tried avoiding him as best as you could. Anything and everything that was within your power, you had done: from avoiding all of your friends because they reminded you too much of him, to moving to a different part of the city just to avoid running into him by chance. It had been hard, and god had it hurt - stillhurts - but you knew you had to do it. But now, standing in front of your brother’s apartment, you know you can no longer run from him anymore. Today is Hoseok’s birthday - and you know he’d be heartbroken if you didn’t turn up.

But you also know Jungkook will be here - because there’s no way Hoseok hadn’t invited him.

Funnily enough, you’d met Jungkook because of Hoseok. The two of them had met at the swimming club in your university, and the two had gotten along well. At first, you’d been fearful of admitting to Hoseok that you were seeing Jungkook - but to your utter surprise, your older brother just hadn’t cared. He liked Jungkook and he trusted Jungkook to treat you right - and he had. For five years, Jungkook had been the best, sweetest, most perfect boyfriend anyone could have asked for. Until that day. That fateful day, nine months ago, when you’d walked out of his apartment - and consequently his life.

“____? You okay?” Minhyuk asks, waving his hand in front of your space. Pulled out of your thoughts, you stare at your boyfriend - though once again, you use the term loosely. Minhyuk stares at you in confusion before gesturing to the door. The very same door you’d been blankly staring at while reminiscing about your brother and boyfriend. Looking at Minhyuk, you can’t help the way your stomach tosses at the sight of him.

Momentarily, you wonder what Hoseok would say. Hoseok absolutely adored Jungkook - to the point where you’d find your brother cuddling with your boyfriend, or kissing his forehead. You shudder just thinking about it. That had been a funny day. One day, you’d decided to surprise your boyfriend by spontaneously turning up at his apartment. However, to your utter surprise, you’d turned up just to see your boyfriend and your brother snuggling while watching Netflix. Sure, it was a cute sight, and ordinarily, you would have been touched. If it weren’t for the fact that your brother was cuddling your boyfriend.

So yes, suffice to say the least, Hoseok absolutely loved Jungkook - and throughout your entire relationship, he’d completely rooted and supported the two of you. Even when you and Jungkook would fight, even when you’d drive each other crazy, Hoseok would speak to the both of you and calm you down and make you see reason. Reason being that you both loved each other. Which is why, dread settles in your stomach as you stare blankly at Minhyuk. Once again, you wonder what Hoseok would say. You know he knows that you’re seeing Minhyuk - your mother has to have told him.

But knowing and seeing are two different things and you have no idea how he’ll react to Minhyuk. You love your brother, you really, really do - but Hoseok has a bad habit of not being able to bite his tongue - and that paired with the fact that he absolutely loved Jungkook - and still does - has trepidation settling deep within your stomach. It doesn’t help that it’s so soon after you and Jungkook broke up either. Nor does it help that Hoseok already knows Minhyuk - he is the son of your mother’s friend after all. But you’re twenty-seven now and you’re not getting any younger and you have to move on with your life. Whether that be with Jungkook or not. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely distraught that it turned out to be without your sweet boyfriend. Or well, ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself.

Once again, Minhyuk looks at you expectantly. Drawing in every ounce of courage you can muster, you take in a deep breath and then knock on your brother’s door. You don’t know how long it takes Hoseok to answer. Realistically, you know it’s only mere moments - but that doesn’t stop it feeling like an excruciating eternity.

The moment Hoseok’s door swings open, you’re met with the sight of your brother. Smiling shyly at him, you awkwardly wave, “Hey Hobi,” you greet. However, Hoseok isn’t looking at you. No, he’s looking at the taller man stood next to you. Shuffling from foot to foot, your gaze flits back and forth from your brother to Minhyuk. Minhyuk for the most of it, looks a little lost and unsure of himself or what to say. Oppositely, your brother simply stares at Minhyuk, looking him up and down, his face a picture of passiveness and his usually warm gaze completely guarded.

“H-Hobi?” you choke out, clearing your throat as you try to get your brother’s attention. Hoseok blinks for a minute and then turns to you.

Momentarily, he regards you with his passive gaze before his lips quirk, and then suddenly, he’s beaming and pulling you into a hug. “____! I’ve missed you!” you brother practically screams, and despite the slight wince as he almost bursts your eardrums, you find yourself letting out a breath of air you hadn’t even known you’d been holding. The minute your brother envelops you in his arms, you feel yourself getting choked up - you’d missed his warmth. You’d desperately craved his affection when you’d broken up with Jungkook, but you had no idea what to say to him - or even how to approach him.

“Come on in. It’s a pretty quiet thing. There’s booze and snacks in the kitchen just help yourself to it, music’s mainly in the living room if you just wanna chill but if you need somewhere more quiet, the balcony or spare bedroom are available. ____ will tell you where to hang up your coats,” Hoseok says, smiling at Minhyuk. You bite your lip at Hoseok’s tone - it may not be obvious to others, but you know your brother like the back of your hand, and you can see the stiffness in his smile, and the chilled politeness in his tone. “Let’s catch up later on, yeah?” Hoseok says, turning back to you. Stiffly, you nod at him, already knowing he wants to talk about Jungkook.

Both you and Minhyuk enter Hoseok’s apartment and you can’t help the dismay that streaks through you. Hoseok wasn’t kidding when he said it’s a pretty quiet affair. About twenty people are milling about, the low thrumming bass of Hoseok’s music vibrating through the air. It’s loud enough to be heard throughout the apartment; not enough to cause the neighbours to complain, but more than enough to not really be able to have a decent conversation with someone.

Scattered about the crowd are a few people you recognise - Namjoon: Hoseok’s best friend from high school, and of course, Seokjin and Yoongi - his other best friends from college. Momentarily, you spot Jimin and you find yourself reeling at the familiar face. He’d been Hoseok’s friend from dance school when your brother was still in middle school. Your eyes continue scanning over the crowd before you find yourself stopping.

A rush of heat courses through your veins, the rushing of blood resounding through your eardrums when you spot Kim Taehyung - Hoseok and Jungkook’s other friend from swim team. But it’s not Taehyung that has you stopping. No, it’s who he’s speaking to.

Jungkook.

Knees buckling at the mere sight of him, your face crumples with the weight of your emotions. It’s only been nine months, and yet he looks so different from the last day you’d seen him. His hair is much longer now - so long that it falls into his eyes and you watch how he flicks the soft strands of hair out of his face. The motion of his hair practically mesmerises you and you can’t find it in yourself to look away from him. With his smooth caramel skin, soft features and gently sloping lips, he has your heart constricting between your ribcage.

Then you spot it. The black leather jacket. The same one you’d gotten him as a birthday gift four years ago. It’s still preserved beautifully, not a single piece out of place. The leather still shines like it’s brand new, and it still sits on his body as well as it did the first time you gifted it to him. Taehyung says something and Jungkook laughs in response, and the moment that he does, you let out an inaudible gasp. His head falls back, his features twisting into an expression of pure joy while his bunny-esque teeth are put on display. He looks happy - carefree - and you can’t help the sting of nostalgia that spikes through you. The music is loud, and you can barely hear anything. But somehow, his laugh resounds in your ear: ingrained in the memory of your eardrums as it plays like a record, over and over, while you watch him.

“You wanna get a drink?” Minhyuk asks. Instantly, your world comes crashing around you, and you turn to your current paramour. Blinking owlishly, you stare at him in confusion. He’s awfully close to you - a mere hair’s breadth away from you and instinctively, you find yourself backing away. Minhyuk looks at you oddly, and with a sheepish look, you nod to him. You’d gladly accept something to drink - you know you’ll need it if you wanted to survive the night.

An hour later, you find yourself standing over the Seoul city skyline. Leant up against the glass railing of Hoseok’s balcony, you simply stare at the sunset painted across Seoul. The large skyscraper buildings obscure most of it, the artificial bright lights dimming the dusky colours of twilight - but you don’t mind so much. Even obscured by the towering modern glass buildings, the dark shades of amaranth, copper and violet vividly paint the sky enough for you to take it all in.

“You okay out here?” comes a soft voice but you don’t need to turn around to see who it is. You could recognise your brother’s voice in a heartbeat.

Humming non-committally, “fine. I just... needed some space, I guess,” you mumble out with a sigh. If you’re being completely honest, you wanted space from Minhyuk. The minute he noticed your gaze on Jungkook, something in him changed - he’d become a tad overbearing, not to mention that he hasn’t left you alone all night. His sudden attachment wouldn’t have been a problem - if it weren’t the fact that you’d been maudlin about seeing Jungkook again. Thus, while he was busy entertaining a small crowd of Hoseok’s friends, you’d slipped out from under his nose and isolated yourself onto the balcony.

A loud chorus of laughs rolls across the quiet balcony and you let out another sigh. Hoseok leans against the railing next to you as he faces his apartment. “Minhyuk seems to be doing well,” comes Hoseok’s casual voice.

Another sigh, “please don’t,” you whisper. You already know where Hoseok’s going with this. Turning his back to his apartment, Hoseok joins you in basking under the quickly setting sun.

“What happened? You never told me, and Jungkook… well, Jungkook refuses to talk about it. To talk about you,” Hoseok sighs. Through your peripheral vision, you note the almost defeated look in Hoseok’s eyes. Heart clenching at his words, you grip your beer can tighter while staring dully into the distance. You don’t blame Jungkook for not talking about you - you haven’t spoken about him either. Sure, you think about him. Every. Single. Day. But thinking about him and speaking about him are two different things - the latter of which is far too painful.

When you don’t respond to his question, Hoseok simply sighs. “Okay fine, we don’t have to talk about that. But-” he begins.

Before he can continue, however, you turn and look at him, “Hobi, can we just not speak about this?” you ask quietly. Your brother looks at you pointedly, his eyes scrutinising you. With your slumped shoulders and the desperation in your eyes, Hoseok finds his eyes softening. Instantly, he wraps his arms around you, pressing your head to his chest. Automatically, you own arms wrap around him and you bask in your brother’s comforting embrace.

“You still love him,” Hoseok breathes out. There’s not a single hint of accusation in his tone, just plain understanding. More than that, it’s not a question; it’s a statement. One that has your fists curling tighter into his shirt, your shoulders tensing. You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t say anything else. Rather, he just holds you, letting you seek as much solace as you need from his hold. Frozen in his hug, you breathe deeply as you try to hold yourself together.

Eventually, you find the strength to pull away. Hoseok looks at you with gentle eyes. “Are you happy, at least? With Minhyuk?” Hoseok asks. Opening your mouth, you move to reply, but find yourself stopping. Eyebrows furrowed, your face contorts marginally as you consider Hoseok’s question. Are you happy? Honestly? You have no idea. You haven’t felt any real happiness since you walked out on Jungkook - but you’d chalked it up to the fact that you were still getting over him.

Hesitancy evident in every fibre of your being, Hoseok looks at you pointedly. “Alright. You don’t have to reply because I already know the answer to that,” Hoseok sighs. He pauses for a moment, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Yet, he continues anyway, “I know mom pushed you towards Minhyuk,” Hoseok begins, causing your eyes to widen. You open your mouth to reply, however, he cuts you off once again, “But I trust you to do the right thing. Not for anyone, but for yourself. You’re strong, ____, but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want,” Hoseok finishes. Before you can reply to him, however, you hear the balcony doors sliding open.

The two of you turn around to the newcomer, your heart fluttering when you see Jungkook. “Oh. Sorry, I’ll leave,” Jungkook quickly says, already turning around. Abruptly, however, Hoseok walks up to Jungkook before clapping him on the back.

“Nah it’s okay. I was just heading inside. You can keep ____ company if you want,” Hoseok says brightly. Internally, you despair at your brother’s words. What the fuck was he thinking? Nonetheless, before either of you can say anything, Hoseok disappears back into his apartment, consequently leaving you and Jungkook alone.

Jungkook turns to you nervously, and you can practically feel the hesitancy exuding off of him in thick waves. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you send him an awkward smile before gesturing for him to join you. Jungkook looks at you in a mix of worry and trepidation, but ultimately, takes Hoseok’s space beside you. The two of you stand in silence, facing the Seoul city skyline as you stare at nothing. Frazzled by his presence, you internally grasp for something to say, anything to break the thick awkward tension that surrounds the two of you.

Then, all of a sudden: “How have you been?”, “So, what’s up?”, you and Jungkook ask at the same time. You stare at each other in surprise for a couple of moments. Then, all of a sudden, you both burst out laughing.

“God, this is so weird,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his hair. Biting your lip, you nod in agreement before turning back to look at the cityscape.

With the tension broken, “so, how have you been?” you find yourself asking. From the corner of your eye, you notice Jungkook shrug listlessly.

“I’ve been… okay, I guess. How about you?”

“Fine. Alright. I guess,” you reply, mirroring his previous sentiment. They’re simple niceties - and you both know there’s a hint of deception in both your words - but neither of you says anything about it. Once again, the two of you fall into silence. Though, this time, the atmosphere isn’t thick with floundering awkwardness. Rather, it’s thick with confusion and uncertainty. Where do you go from here? What do you even say to your ex-boyfriend - one you still have feelings for?

Deciding to take a chance, “how’s work? I saw that your company released a new game,” you finally say. Jungkook’s head snaps towards you, his eyebrow rising at your question.

“You keep up to date with my company?” he asks. The incredulity in his voice surprises you and you look at him pointedly.

“Of course I do. That company means a big deal to you,” you reply easily. Despite the situation, Jungkook finds himself chuckling, even as his heart constraints at the thought of you checking up on him - even if it’s from afar.

“Yeah. It’s doing really well. Made me a lot of money. How about you? Dohyun from your department still being an ass because you’re the one who got promoted or?” Jungkook questions casually, causing you to laugh.

“Ah, man. Gotta love Dohyun. No, yeah. He’s still being an ass - but at least he doesn’t openly question my authority anymore,” you reply with an easy smile. Then, “actually, I have you to thank for that,” you softly say.

Jungkook looks at you in surprise, “me?”

Nodding, “yeah. I took your advice and threatened to fire him if he ever publicly undermined me again. That shut him up pretty quickly,” you chuckle. Jungkook snorts, the two of you laughing.

“Good! He deserves it. I know he has a problem working under a woman, but man, you deserved that promotion. You were far better qualified than him,” Jungkook compliments. Ducking shyly, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears before smiling gently at him.

“Thanks. It means a lot,” you mumble under your breath, making Jungkook shake his head.

“No. ____, I’m serious. No one deserved it more than you. You worked so hard for it. There were days I was even worried about the stress you were under because you’d forget to eat, or you wouldn’t sleep. But I guess it was worth it in the end, because you got the promotion,” Jungkook responds. Then, he pauses, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips, “even if it meant there were days you’d ignore me,” Jungkook sighs dramatically. That causes you to snort, and before you can stop yourself, you playfully smack his arm.

“Hey! I gave you lots of attention. Or did you forget that time when I skipped work just so we could play hooky and go snowboarding?” you ask. Jungkook bites his lips, a tinkling giggle escaping his lips at the memory.

“Oh, that was good. You were terrible, and you fell so much I was worried you’d break something,” Jungkook reminisces, a soft sigh following his words.

Giggling to yourself, “Yeah, well we can’t all just pick up a sport and instinctively be good at them,” you snort in response.

“You’re right. Really, it’s a curse being perfect at everything,” Jungkook nods sagely in agreement. Jaw dropping, you look at him in amazement before the two of you burst out laughing.

Suddenly, a new voice breaks “What’s going on here?”

Turning around, you freeze at the sight of Minhyuk. Alternating between looking at you and Jungkook, Minhyuk’s face is a picture of passiveness, his lips set in a thin, grim line. At the sight of Minhyuk, you sense Jungkook deflate, the easy atmosphere once again thickening with tension.

“Minhyuk… this is-” you begin, ready to introduce the two. However, Minhyuk snorts.

“Yes. This is Jungkook, your ex-boyfriend. I know. Which begs the question, why are you alone out here with your ex while I’m inside?” Minhyuk asks. You reel at the accusatory tone in his voice as you double-take.

“Excuse me? We’re just out here speaking,” you exclaim and once again, Minhyuk snorts.

“It looked a little more than that,” he points out. Jaw dropping in bewilderment, you scoff at him, your eyes narrowing into thin slits.

“Uh, I think I should leave the two of you alone,” Jungkook says quietly as he begins making his way towards the balcony door.

Seeing him walk away breaks your heart, and you want to tell him to stay. Nevertheless, you know you have no right to. Not now anyway, when you have bigger problems at hand. Bigger problems namely being Minhyuk. “What’s your problem?” you ask, directing your attention to your boyfriend.

“My problem is that despite the fact that you’re going to be marrying me, you’re out here with the ex that you were seeing for five years. How do you think that makes me look?” Minhyuk argues back. At Minhyuk’s words, Jungkook finds his blood freezing as he’s brought to an abrupt halt - just before he can escape the balcony. You, yourself, are at a loss of something to say.

“We’ve barely been seeing each other for two months! Why are you bringing that up now?” you cry in astonishment. Really, where had the come from?

“But isn’t that why our mother’s set us up? Because we’re both looking to get married? Isn’t that where this is supposed to be going? Yet, here you are. With your ex-boyfriend. Who you’ve paid more attention to than me this entire night, by the way,” Minhyuk points out. Spluttering at his words, your cheeks heat as you know you’ve been caught. The hairs on your arms stand erect, and immediately, you know that Jungkook is staring at you - but you refuse to look at him. You don’t want to see the expression on his face right now.

Instead, you decide to keep your attention directly on Minhyuk, “yes, this is where it’s supposed to be going, but-” you reply, only for Minhyuk to cut you off once again.

“But nothing. I like you, a lot. And I know we’ve only known each other two months, but I can see us having a life together. Is that not what you want? Isn’t that the reason we’re together in the first place? Do you not want to marry me? Say you’ll marry me and I’ll drop this right now,” Minhyuk finally says, his previous anger and insecurity at seeing you and Jungkook together dissipating. He levels you with his sincere gaze, the unanswered ultimatum heavy in the air.

Unable to help yourself any longer, you momentarily shift your gaze to Jungkook. It’s brief - barely a second - but it’s all you need. The utter look of despair is clearly evident on his face, a mixture of heartbreak and anguish painted so very clearly across his features. It reminds you of the day you’d broken up with him; reminds you of how he’d looked when you’d walked out on him.

Flashback - nine months ago

One lazy Sunday, you find yourself in the apartment you share with your boyfriend. The two of you are sprawled on the couch, barely dressed: Jungkook with only his boxers and socks, and you in his large t-shirt and panties. You’d both considered getting dressed, but had decided against it - especially since neither of you had any plans to leave the house. Hence, you find yourself pressed against Jungkook, your back comfortably flush against his strong chest, your head easily finding the perfect resting spot in the crook where his collarbone meets his neck.

Absentmindedly, Jungkook plays with the hem of your underwear, fiddling with elasticated lace as you scroll through Netflix. The film titles pass in a blur as you look for something to watch. Catching the attention of one title, you can't help but fixate on it for a bit. "Kook?" you call out to your boyfriend softly. You angle your head to look up at him while shifting your head onto his shoulder, so you can see him clearly. Jungkook hums non-committally as he glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

"What's up, sweetheart? Wait- if this is just to ask me if we can watch Zootropolis again, you know my answer is always yes," Jungkook says, his eyes twinkling in excitement. A light giggle escapes your lips but you shake your head.

"No. I just- we've been together five years now, yes?" you ask, turning your head back to stare at the TV. Jungkook's eyebrows furrow slightly, and he moves his head so he can better look at you.

"Yes? What about it?"

"Well-" you begin. Briefly you pause, worrying your lower lip, "do you think we'll get married?" you breathe out. Jungkook stills, the hand that had been mindlessly playing with the lace material of your underwear coming to a halt.

"What?" he asks, his chest rumbling under you.

"Well, have you thought about us getting married? Like, we've been together a while now, but I don't think we've ever really spoken about it," you sigh out. Ideally, you wanted to marry Jungkook - because, after five years, you're sure he's the one for you.

"Honestly?" Jungkook asks. Anxiousness pools in the pits of your stomach as you hear the slight trepidation in his voice. It's barely there - but you know Jungkook well enough to spot the tell-tale sign of his worriment.

"Honestly," you reiterate his statement, letting him know you want nothing but the truth.

Jungkook sighs, "honestly, I've never really thought about it," he breathes out. Immediately, you jerk, sitting up as you twist to look at him. Shifting so you're in a more comfortable position, you sit on his stomach, your thighs straddling his waist. Instinctively, Jungkook's hands fall onto your thighs. You look at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief, Jungkook returning his own expectant gaze.

"You've never thought about us getting married?" you sputter out, completely baffled by his words. How has he not thought about it? You've been together five years now. That's an awfully long time - surely, he's thought about it at some point. Not to mention, you're both twenty-seven now, almost thirty. So how has he not thought about it? You know you have. In fact, you dream about the day you walk down the aisle, Jungkook on the other side. Hell, you dream about a life with him; a family - because you know he's all you want.

"Sweetheart-" Jungkook starts, and you look pointedly at him, "listen- it's nothing to do with you. It's just, we're still young. I do love you, you know that, but I just never really thought about it," he continues. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you cock your head in question.

"Never?" you enquire. Jungkook simply shrugging.

"Not really," comes his simple reply.

“How?” you question, looking at him in confusion. Distinctly, you remember having light conversations with Jungkook. Conversations where you’d joke about being married, conversations about your wedding or your future together.

“What do you mean how?” Jungkook asks dumbly, causing you to frown.

“I mean- I know we’ve joked about it before. I’ve mentioned wanting to get married before, I know I have,” you point out.

“Yeah… but I thought you were joking and other than that, I’ve never seriously thought about it,” Jungkook says casually. You suck in a sharp breath at his words. He hadn’t ever seriously considered it? Fear settles in your stomach at his words. You’d always just assumed you and Jungkook would eventually get married - but he hadn’t ever seriously thought about it?

"Well... do you want to get married?" you ask plainly. Jungkook smirks at you, the corners of his lips twisting into a teasing, lop-sided smile.

"Are you asking?" he jokes. However, you're in no mood to play games. This is important to you - because your boyfriend of five years just admitted that he hadn't ever considered a future with the two of you together.

"Jungkook, I'm being serious," you say - your voice is soft, yet firm. Sensing the seriousness to your tone, the smile on Jungkook's face falls and he sits up. His movement displaces you from his stomach, and you find yourself moving to sit on the couch while looking at him expressionlessly.

"____, I don't know. As I said, I've never really thought about it," Jungkook reiterates.

"Well think about it now! Do you want to get married or no?" you ask, anxiousness bubbling in your veins. This conversation certainly hasn't gone the way you had expected it to. When you'd first asked Jungkook, it had just been an off-handed question, because really, why wouldn't he have thought about getting married. Now? You're not so sure.

"I- I don't know," Jungkook mutters. Face falling in despair, you get up off of the couch and walk into your bedroom. What did he mean he didn't know? Five years. You've been together five years, and he still doesn't know? Without a second thought, Jungkook follows you into your bedroom, watching in confusion as you begin getting dressed.

"Sweetheart? Are you mad at me?" he asks, causing you to snort derisively.

"Are you really asking me that right now?" you snap in response. Jungkook reels back at the irritation in your voice.

"Why? Because I said I don't know if I want to get married? Why is that a problem? I still love you- you know that," your boyfriend argues.

"The problem isn't that you love me Jungkook. It's that you just admitted you haven't thought about our future together," you cry back. Sensing your upset, Jungkook quickly walks up to you. He places his hands on your arms, gently rubbing up and down as he cooes gently at you.

"Baby, that's not what I meant. It's just, we're still young you know? And it's not like we have to get married to each other to prove anything. I love you, and you love me, isn't that enough?" Jungkook asks softly, trying his best to placate you. Tears forming in your eyes, you shake your head and push his hands away.

"But I want to get married Jungkook. But you don't even know if you want to get married," you reply back, your bottom lip quivering. You take in a deep breath in an attempt to hold yourself together.

"But I could... maybe," Jungkook replies. Though, you both hear the clear uncertainty in his voice. His words, paired with his tone, only has your heart breaking.

"Do you? It doesn't have to be now, but do you see us getting married? A simple yes or no. That's all I'm asking for," you breathe out.

Through tear-filled eyes, you watch your boyfriend contemplate your question. One minute passes. Then two. But he's no closer to giving you your answer. With every second that passes, your anguish grows into grief-stricken distress. Multiple times, Jungkook opens and closes his mouth, and each time, hope blooms in your chest, only to die when he closes his mouth. Long, excruciating moments pass, and you all but abandon hope, when finally he says something.

"I don't know," Jungkook replies. The very moment his words ring in your ears, that small inkling of hope within your chest in crushes. A sob escapes your lips and you feel your knees buckle. Distress painted on Jungkook's face, he reaches out to comfort you, but you back away from him, causing your boyfriend to flinch.

"Will you ever know?" you whisper hopelessly.

"I don't know," comes Jungkook's answer once again.

"Then I don't know if I can do this," you whisper back. Jungkook's head snaps up to you, his eyes wide as he looks at you in disbelief.

"What? What do you mean?" he chokes out, barely able to get the words out. Throat constricting, you swallow thickly as you choke back a sob.

"I don't know if I can still do this. Jungkook, I want to get married. I want to marry you. I dream about walking down the aisle to you, I dream about children - our children. I dream about a life with you. But you-" you stop as your voice cracks with emotion. Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself together once again, "but you don't know if you even want to get married and that... that just tells me you haven't thought about our future together," you finally manage to say, your voice strained.

"We're still young. We have so much time to think about that," Jungkook argues, causing you to shake your head.

"We're twenty-seven Jungkook. We've been together for five years. That's a long time, so why haven't you ever considered us getting married? Not even moments ago you admitted that you've never thought about it. How do you think that makes me feel?" you cry.

"I don't know! It wasn't on my mind. I think about you but I- I just don't know if I want to get married. Why is that a big deal?" Jungkook asks, even as anguish colours his veins at the sight of your heartbreak.

"It's a big deal to me! It's a big deal because like I said, that's what I want!" you practically yell. Taking another deep breath, you sniffle, "I don't think I can do this," you repeat once again. Again, your voice cracks, but Jungkook despairs at the resolution in it.

"What are you saying?" he chokes out, not wanting to believe it. You can't mean it. You can't be saying what he thinks you're saying.

"I'm saying- I'm saying we should break up," you finally say. You practically have to force the words out of your mouth - because, despite everything, every fibre of your being is still in love with Jungkook - still wants to be with Jungkook. But this isn't something you think you can compromise on.

"No," Jungkook blurts out. "N-no. Please, no," he practically begs. Once again he steps up to you, and once again, you step away from him - desperately needing the distance between you. "W-why? Why can't we wait until I know? Please, why can't we wait until I'm ready?" Jungkook pleads. Sucking in a deep breath, you shake your head as you look away. You want to. You desperately want to take his word for it, want to fall into his arms and forget this conversation. But you just can't.

"I c-can't," you express, "because what if we continue for another two, or three or five years, only for you to tell me you still don't want to get married? I don't want to start all over again in my thirties, Jungkook. I don't want to be in love with your a few more years, only for you to eventually decide you still don't want to get married," you reply softly.

"But we don't know if that'll happen!" Jungkook tries arguing and this time, you turn to him. Jungkook freezes at your face, the resolute sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. His heart constricts in his chest as he sees unwavering stubbornness, mixed with heartache and sorrow, in your eyes.

"Exactly Jungkook. We don't know. If you don't know now, after five years of being together, I don't know if you'll know in another few years. And I can't take that chance," you finally utter.

"____, please don't do this. I love you," Jungkook sobs brokenly. Unable to look him in the eyes anymore - unable to stand the utter devastation written on his face - you look away.

"I'm sorry," you whisper softly.

And then, you walk away.

By the time you’re drawn out of your reverie, Jungkook is long gone. In his stead, stands Minhyuk, who looks at you expectantly. ‘Say you’ll marry me.’ Minhyuk’s voice once again rings through your head and you can’t help but feel queasy at the statement. You had broken up with Jungkook because you wanted to get married - and you do. But, is Minhyuk who you want to marry? As harsh as it is, marrying Minhyuk feels like… you’re settling - and that doesn’t sit well with you. But what do you do now? What if this was your only chance? You’re twenty-seven now and you hadn’t lied to Jungkook when you said you didn’t want to wait another five years only for things to fall apart if he decided he still didn’t want to get married.

But this doesn’t feel right.

You and Minhyuk stare at each other, Minhyuk patiently waiting for your answer. Except, you have no idea what you want to say. Your skin flushes with heat and you feel panic set into your bones while your stomach flips. Blood rushes through your ears, the sound drowning out everything else as you simply stare at Minhyuk. Though, you’re not really looking at him. No, because even now, with Minhyuk standing in front of you and Jungkook long gone, there’s only one person on your mind.

The same person who’s been on your mind the entire night.

Abruptly, Hoseok’s words ring through your head. ‘You’re strong - but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want.’ Your brother’s voice plays over and over in your head - like a broken vinyl - until it’s all you can hear. Then, a spark of epiphany courses through your head, and the dawning of revelation washes over you.

You do know what you want - more than anything.

And you know what you have to do now.

It's almost two in the morning when Jungkook finds himself outside of your apartment. He doesn't know how long he's sat there, back against the wall and knees up to his chest as he stares at your flat door. After he'd left Hoseok's apartment, he found his feet walking to a bar, and after about an hour of drinking, he'd walked home. Well, he'd meant to walk home. But, somehow, in his tipsy-fogged mind, he'd automatically walked to your building and then up to your flat. A while after that, he'd just sat outside your door, contemplating whether he should knock or not. The largest part of him desperately wanted to knock - and multiple times, fueled by the courage of the alcohol - he almost had. However, each time, the smaller part of him would stop himself, unable to actually follow through. What if you'd said yes to Minhyuk? What if you didn't want to see him? What if you're with Minhyuk? Jungkook doesn't know what he'd do if he knocks, only to find Minhyuk on the other side of the door.

Head repeatedly banging against the wall behind him, Jungkook stares at the gold plated numbers of your door. With every second that passes, the alcohol in his system slowly fades away and Jungkook finds himself sobering. But still, he doesn't leave. He can't bring himself to get up and walk away. It's late enough that sleep should begin fogging his mind, but again, not knowing whether you said yes or no to Minhyuk would eat away at him - and he knows he'd be restless and unable to sleep until he finds out. Yet, he just cannot bring himself to knock. So, instead, he just sits outside your apartment. Waiting for something. Anything.

For you.

Another hour passes and you still don't come. Jungkook lets out a shuddering breath, his head falling into his hands. Mentally, he draws up a pros and cons list of knocking - and yet, each time, he scraps them all. Even with all the cons: you could be engaged to Minhyuk, you could be with Minhyuk, you could be moving on with Minhyuk; Jungkook can't help but consider the pros: you could have said no, you could be alone, you could be waiting for him. It's that last one that he dreads. There's a small chance you couldbe waiting for him and that has hope flaring in his chest. But in this situation, hope is the most crushing thing in existence - because it's only a small chance - and his hope could be crushed the minute you answer the door.

A part of him believes you had to have said to yes - you just had to have - because that's what you wanted, wasn't it? You wanted to get married. So, what reason would you have to say no? But that small, niggling voice in Jungkook head won't stop speaking - won't stop telling him that he's a reason you would have said no. Nevertheless, Jungkook knows that voice comes from his hope - and as he's mentioned - hope is the worst thing he has right now.

"You can't keep doing this, Jungkook. It's been nine months. You should move on- like she is," Jungkook mutters to himself out loud. He has no doubt that if anyone sees him, they'd think he was some sort of crazy person, but Jungkook also doesn't care. Over and over, he repeats the sentences to himself and eventually, he gets up, ready to leave.

But then he stops.

Turning back to your door, he takes in a shuddering breath, and before he can stop himself - or even rethink his spontaneous decision - he finds himself knocking. Because he desperately needs to know if he's lost you once and for all. Then, he waits again.

And still waits.

Time moves excruciatingly slowly - the seconds agonisingly passing away. Momentarily, Jungkook considers knocking again - maybe you're asleep, maybe you didn't hear him. But the adrenaline-induced courage has long since faded after he knocked, and once again he finds himself turning away.

However, then, he hears it: the clinking of a chain.

The door creaks open slowly, Jungkook sucking in a sharp breath as he spots you. You're dressed in a large hoodie - and hope flares in his chest as he recognises it. It's hishoodie. He thought he'd misplaced it a while ago - but no, apparently it was just with you. But why? Why hadn't you returned it to him?

As soon as the door is wide open, you stare in disbelief at the sight in front of you. Rubbing your blood-shot eyes, your mouth drops slightly as you realise you're not imagining it. Jungkook is standing in front of you. Why is Jungkook standing in front of you?

"J-Jungkook?" you stutter out, bewilderment heavy in your voice.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook blurts out. Taken aback by his sudden apology, your eyebrow furrows.

"W-What? Why are you sorry?" you ask, unsure of what's happening. You'd just been crying in bed - desperately wishing for Jungkook - so, when you'd opened your door only to see him, you'd thought you were dreaming. And now? Well, now you're just confused. What does he have to be sorry about?

"I made a mistake. You were right- I didn't- I never thought about our future together. I never considered getting married, or whether we'd have a family together and it's because I was comfortable. I grew comfortable in our relationship and I took it for granted. I took you for granted," Jungkook breathes out. His words fall so quickly from his lips, he practically rambles, and you really have to strain to understand his words. "After five years together, I just got so used to us. I thought I'd always have you, and so, marriage or a family didn't even cross my mind - but it should have. I should have thought about our future together. I'm sorry that I didn't, and I'm sorry that I thought about it too late," Jungkook continues. Once again, he pauses, taking a deep breath as he thinks about what to say next. But if he's being honest, he doesn't really know what else to say.

Shoulders deflating, Jungkook runs a weary hand through his hair, and suddenly, he looks more harried than you've seen him in a long time. "I'm just- I'm sorry I didn't think about it back then. I'm just sorry," Jungkook finishes lamely. There's more on the tip of his tongue: I miss you, I want you, I love you; but he can't bring himself to say them. Not when you could be happy with Minhyuk. He can't do that to you - he'd broken your heart that day - when he'd openly admitted he'd never thought about a future with you - and now, you have a chance with someone else. And he can't take that away from you, even if it breaks his heart to let you go. Left reeling by his words, they play over and over in your mind, and it takes all your brainpower to reallyunderstand them - but in your stunned daze, you don't say anything - and Jungkook doesn't know what to make of it.

So, instead, "I guess, that's what I wanted to say. I- I hope you're happy with Minhyuk," he chokes out. Sluggishly, you realise that Jungkook is walking away - and that's all it takes to restart your brain.

"W-what if I'm not happy? What would you do if I wasn't happy?" you rasp, your voice straining. Jungkook freezes at your words, his blood running cold. Then, he whips around so quickly, you fear he'd get whiplash. However, Jungkook doesn't care. Rather, his eyes swiftly rake over your face, searching for something, anything to confirm what'd he'd just heard. He finds it in your eyes; in the way they silently beg him to continue, plead with him to say everything on his mind.

Helpless under your imploring gaze, Jungkook finds his tongue unravelling as he lays his feelings at your feet. "I'd ask for a second chance. A chance to make you happy and give you what you want," Jungkook breathes out. Your eyes widen in the slightest at his proclamation.

Is he saying what you think he is?

Incredulity painted as clear as day on your face and sliver of hope evident in your eyes, Jungkook's face softens slightly. He wasn't lying - when Minhyuk had proposed the ultimatum, Jungkook had felt his heartbreak - and when he'd sat in the bar, all he could think about was you. More importantly, all he could think about was the missed opportunity. He imagined what you'd look like on your wedding day. How happy would you be? Would you look as radiantly beautiful as he imaged you to be? Would you smile in that carefree, captivating way that you did? But then, he grew maudlin - because he realised that if you did, it wouldn't be for him - and that broke his heart. It broke his heart to imagine you marrying someone that wasn't him, smiling for someone who wasn't him, creating a family with someone that wasn't him.

Nothing but sincerity in his voice, Jungkook continues, "I'd ask for you to take me back and to marry you. Because that's what I want - as long as it's with you," Jungkook finishes.

Throat clogged up with the heavy weight of your emotions, you swallow thickly, "then ask," you choke out. Your words are simple - and practically inaudible - but in the stillness of the empty corridor, and the quiet of the night, Jungkook hears it as clear as day.

"But- But what about Minhyuk?" Jungkook asks, unsure about whether he should or not. Hope flares in his chest at your words - but he doesn't want to believe them. Not yet, at least.

"Ask anyway," you simply say.

"Will you-" Jungkook begins, but the instant he opens his mouth, you're cutting him off.

"Yes," you reply - not even waiting for him to finish. It doesn't matter what he said. It doesn't matter if the words to follow are 'give me a second chance' or 'marry me' because all that matters is that he's back. All that matters is that he's willing to think about your future together - and right now, that's enough for you.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say-mpf," Jungkook begins, only to be stopped short when you pull him in for a kiss.

The instant his lips touch yours, you feel your entire body become electrified. Your veins are set afire with love, Jungkook's soft lips pressed against yours in a sweet kiss. Instinctively, Jungkook's arms wrap around your waist, his hands pulling your body flush against his as he feels you for the first time in months. You taste the same as you always have - temptingly sweet - and your body against his feels exquisite: your curves and contours fitting perfectly against his body. Sinking into this kiss, and consequently Jungkook, you sigh against his lips while you let your hands wander across his broad shoulder, before carding them into his hair.

Brief moments later, Jungkook breaks off your kiss; his forehead falling to rest against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. His hands move to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek tenderly as he lazily peppers soft kisses against your lips. Despite the softness of the moment, Jungkook can't stop wondering about Minhyuk - a sentiment he expresses to you in concern.

"I couldn't do it. I couldn't say yes," you reply, your eyes holding nothing but the truth. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together, and you find yourself giggling at the adorable expression. After a light peck against his lips, you move to rest your head against his chest, your eyes slipping shut as you feel his steady heartbeat under your ear. "I couldn't do it, because even then, you were all I could think about. I thought I wanted to get married, and I did - I do - but I realised, I didn't want to marry just anyone. I wanted to marry you," you confess. Jungkook's heart soars in his chest and helpless under your spell, he finds himself pulling you in for another kiss.

However, this time, it's different. This time, your kiss isn't slow, or soft. No, it's needier - Jungkook’s pouring out his entire heart into your kiss as he bruises his lips against you. Gasping against his lips, your fists clench around Jungkook’s leather jacket - using the material to pull him closer into you. You pull away from Jungkook’s lips, breathing heavily against his lips as you stare up at him through the thick of your eyelashes.

“Do you want to come in?” you breathily ask. Jungkook pauses for a moment.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to-” he begins refuting. However, you’re already pressing kisses against his jaw - lightly nipping the sensitive spot just above his Adam’s apple.

“I’m sure. I’ve missed you,” you rasp out, your voice coming out breathier than you anticipated. Jungkook’s eyes dilate at your words, and before you know what’s happening, he’s leading you into your apartment.

The both of you barely make it into your apartment, before Jungkook is slamming the door shut and pushing you up against the hard wood. Caging you between his arms, Jungkook’s lips fall upon yours again, his lips moving in a frenzied fashion this time. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer into you. Jungkook lets out a soft growl against your lips before pulling away. Peppering kisses along your jaw, he trails down the column of your throat before nuzzling his face into the juncture of your shoulder.

“God- I’ve missed you,” Jungkook whispers as he breathes in your calming scent. Own hands threading into his hair, you lazily play with the locks at the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too. A lot,” you moan out as Jungkook begins to suckle bruises onto the tender flesh of your throat.

“Is that why you’re wearing my hoodie?” Jungkook asks, curiosity winning out on him. Not that you don’t look good in it - in fact, seeing you dressed in his clothing is one of Jungkook’s favourite things.

“Maybe,” you reply coyly, “what are you going to do about it?” you continue. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath at the teasing lilt to your voice and immediately, drops to his knees. You jerk at the sudden movement, your eyes widening marginally at the sight of Jungkook on his knees.

“If this was any other time, I’d teach you a lesson. But right now, I’ve missed you too much, and you look good enough to eat,” Jungkook groans out as he runs his nose along the exposed flesh of your inner thigh. Your breath hitches at his words, Jungkook’s large hands slowly wrapping around your thighs before he parts your legs. Tenderly, his hands run up the back of your thighs, and gripping the flesh of your ass, he pulls your hips further into him.

Running his nose against the cotton of your panties, Jungkook takes in a deep breath before groaning as the heady scent of your arousal runs through his nose. He pushes his hoodie further up your hips, his lips gently tracing his way up the length of your thigh. Positioned just over your hip, Jungkook places a tender kiss above where your bone is. Then, he bites down on the waistband of your panties before slowly sliding it down your legs. When he gets to the crooks of your thighs, he lets go of it, letting the material drop to the floor.

You step out of your underwear and spread your legs - making more room for Jungkook. Gripping one of your thighs, he pulls it to rest over his shoulder, exposing your pussy to his gaze. Dark, lust-filled eyes rove over your folds, Jungkook shuddering as the scent of your arousal deepens. Your sex is slightly dewy, glistening in the low lighting of your living room. Biting his lip, Jungkook edges closer to your folds before tentatively licking a line: all the way from your core to your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you groan out, your head lolling back while one of your hands shoots out to tangle into his thick hair. Hearing your low groan, Jungkook smirks against your pussy before repeating the action. Spikes of pleasure run up and down your spine, your eyelids fluttering as you lose yourself into the pleasure he brings upon your body.

Moving one hand, Jungkook presses two fingers against the petals of your sex before parting his digits in a ‘V’ shape and consequently your folds. With your pussy exposed, Jungkook once again licks a thick line from your dripping, honeyed entrance, all the way to your engorged bud. He licks harder this time, his tongue lapping in a broad line as he gathers your heady essence onto his tongue. Your arousal bathes his tastebuds, and with his nose pressed against the hood of your clit - all he can taste, all he can breathe is you.

Soft lips wrap around your clit, Jungkook pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth before lightly suckling on it. His ministrations cause you to gasp - the sound quickly morphing into a heavy moan when his nips your throbbing clit. Tangling your fingers further into his hair, you slowly undulate your hips, pushing them further into Jungkook as you tug on his hair, trying to get him to move fast.

Sensing the urgency in your movements, Jungkook rakes his teeth over your clit in warning once again. Then, breaking away with a pop, “Be patient, darling,” Jungkook breathes out. The lusty fog of your desire rolls thickly into your head, clouding your mind and setting your flesh aflame with want and through your wanton need, you barely hear Jungkook’s words. Instead, the feel of Jungkook’s warm breath wafting over your wet folds has you shuddering in pleasure.

“Kook,” you whine needily, desperation heavy in the high pitch of your voice.

With his face buried between your thighs, you can’t see his face. But you don’t have to. You can feel the smirk on his lips. Not that you really care - because he’s currently swirling his tongue around your clit tantalisingly and subsequently driving you to the brink of insanity. Lightly, he moves the two fingers that have you spread open. You shudder at the featherlight touch, feeling him softly ghost his fingertips over the outline of your folds before circling your entrance. His touch has your core clenching, your pussy walls fluttering around his fingertips.

“Fuck- I forgot how fucking sensitive your pussy is,” Jungkook moans against your clit. His words are slightly muffled, and the vibration of his voice shoots straight from your clit to the pits of your belly. Loins heating with pleasure, you feel your stomach twist and knot as Jungkook laps kittenish licks against your clit. Teasingly, Jungkook continues circling his fingertip against your entrance, feeling the way strings of your sticky wetness drip out of you before they cling to his digit.

Drawing away from your clit, Jungkook slowly pulls his finger away; his throat drying as he watches the thin, filmy strings of your arousal drip from your pussy and onto his finger. The thick rivulets stretch as he pulls away - and the moment one of them snaps - Jungkook is unable to stop himself from pressing his head back between your thighs. Tongue plunging into your core, his swirls his wet appendage around your cunt, groaning as thick streams of arousal drip onto his tongue.

“Oh fuck- Kook,” you mewl, your head falling back and hitting the door with a light thud. The pain barely registers in your mind, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as your pussy flutters around his tongue. Helpless against your needy whine, Jungkook pushes two fingers into your depths, your body jerking at the sudden intrusion as you tug at his hair reflexively. Twisting his fingers into you, Jungkook pumps his digits in and out, relishing in the feel of your silken, pulsating walls around his appendages as he continues eating you out - almost ravenously.

Gripping his locks tightly, you gyrate harder into his mouth. Waves of pleasure flit over your skin, your blood boiling with ecstasy as you feel the warmth in your belly begin to heat up. When Jungkook spreads your entrance using his fingers, his tongue plunging deeper into you, you let out a cry of pleasure. God, you’d forgotten just howgood Jungkook’s mouth was. Mouth and throat running dry, you swallow thickly before panting out his name over and over again. The once dull warmth begins burning your loins; searing, white-hot pleasure running up and down your flesh, your skin prickling with goosebumps as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“Please-” you groan out, the guttural sound intermingling with the wet, sloppy sounds of Jungkook eating you out. Thighs quivering against his ears, Jungkook pushes his fingers deeper into you. Expertly, he finds the sweet spot inside you, his fingers crooking at the knuckle as he strokes the spongy spot. Reflexively, your hand tugs his hair harshly while your knees buckle under the euphoria of your approaching orgasm.

“Are you cumming, baby? You wanna cum on my tongue?” Jungkook taunts, a teasing lilt to his voice. Swallowing thickly, it’s all you can do to simply rasp out his name. Knowing he has you on the verge of ecstasy, Jungkook doubles his efforts - his fingers pistoning inside you quicker as he wraps his wet lips around your clit.

“God, your pussy tastes so fucking good. I missed you - missed the way your pretty little pussy feels around my tongue,” Jungkook grunts out. Another whine of pleasure escapes your lips, your hips jolting into his face when the pads of his finger stroke your g-spot.

“Cumming-” you gasp out, your voice cracking under the pleasure.

“Then cum baby- cum all over my tongue. I wanna taste you- wanna drink you up,” Jungkook urges. The filthiness of his words, paired with the way he harshly sucks your clit, instantly has you cumming.

A loud mewl escaping your lip, you whine out his name. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your visions filled with white spots as your orgasm ricochets through you. Feeling you come undone above him, Jungkook rips his fingers out of you, his hands gripping your flesh and fingers digging into your skin as he holds your violently trembling thighs. The scent of your arousal thickens deeply, and Jungkook watches with dilated eyes as thick ropes of cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs.

Placing his lips against your entrance, Jungkook slurps at your cum, swallowing it thickly and relishing in your taste. You whine out his name, your knees buckling from the power of your orgasm - and if it weren’t for Jungkook’s strong grip, you’re sure you’d drop to the floor. Gasping for air, you slowly come down from the high of your orgasm, Jungkook patiently waiting for you to descend down to reality.

Tenderly, your boyfriend places affectionate kisses along the length of your thigh, softly cooing at you while he whispers sweet nothings against your flesh. A soft smile tugs at your lips and you untangle your fingers from their vice-like grip on his locks. Instead, you softly play with the strands, marvelling at their silk-like texture. Jungkook always had beautiful hair, but with how long it is currently, you can reallyadmire it.

“Kook- want you,” you mew. Jungkook chuckles at the soft neediness in your voice.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Jungkook says before he gathers you in his arms. Gently, he brings you to the floor with him. Still swimming in the haziness of your orgasm, you feel Jungkook swiftly divest himself off his clothing, until he’s left naked. Once done, Jungkook gathers you into his arms once again. He shifts you so your thighs are straddling his, your body propped against his strong chest as his back rests against the door to your apartment.

Unable to help yourself, you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands indolently running over his skin as you finally feel him under your touch. You trace every muscle of his upper body - from the corded flesh of his biceps, to the taut skin of his abdomen; and then towards his broad, defined shoulders. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, his hands running up the hem of his hoodie and flitting up your skin before he divests you off the article of clothing - leaving you both naked.

Shuddering at the feel of the night’s crisp air against your skin, you snuggle closer into Jungkook’s warmth, letting his presence wash over you. “I missed you,” you mumble against his skin. Jungkook’s face softens and he nods, his head dropping so he can press a kiss to your shoulder. His long hair tickles your skin and you relish in the featherlight touch.

Not wanting to wait any longer - and more than desperate to feel him inside of you - you flex your thighs, picking yourself up. One hand feels out for Jungkook’s cock, and easily finding the shaft, you grip the base before pressing it against your entrance. Feeling the bulbous head push against your entrance, you let out a soft whine before slowly descending down onto him. Slowly, he spreads out your walls, his thick girth stretching you out for the first time in months. It’s been a while since you’ve had Jungkook and the sheer size of him has a dull pain stinging at your pussy walls - but you don’t mind so much. No, in fact, you cherish it - because you’d sorely missed how transcendent he’d felt stretching out your pussy to its brim.

“Oh fuck- God, you’re so fucking tight. You feel so good,” Jungkook groans out, his cock twitching with every inch he sinks into you. Jungkook’s arms wrap around you, holding your naked chest flush against his as you continue your descent onto his cock. When he finally bottoms out, his balls resting just under your ass, you let out a little whimper, your fingers clawing into his shoulder.

“You good, baby?” Jungkook asks, his lips skimming the outline of your collarbone.

“Yeah- you feel- so good,” you gasp out. Jungkook gives you a couple of moments to adjust to the feel of him - and then, he’s gripping your hips before lifting them up for you. You cry out in pleasure as you feel his cock retreat out of you, only for Jungkook to thrust upwards, plunging the entire length of his shaft.

The two of you begin moving in tandem with each other: Jungkook helping you move on top of him while simultaneously impaling his cock into you. With every one of his movements, you feel pleasure run through your veins. Every time he plunges the entirety of his cock inside of you, you let out short gasps, your toes curling in pleasure. Moving slowly, you take the time to simply feel each other - the ardent fire of your lust and love burning bright in the pits of both your bellies as you sink into unadulterated pleasure.

Your slow, sensual pace continues for a little while longer - but you can slowly feel Jungkook’s desperation increasing with each thrust. His hands begin wandering over your hips and around to hold your ass. Fingers digging into the soft flesh, he grips your ass tightly before bouncing you harder ontop of him. Need fills his every movement - Jungkook’s thrusts becoming rougher. You bounce on top of him, your entire body shaking as Jungkook thrusts harder and harder into you. Changing the angle of his hips, Jungkook plunges his cock against your sweet spot, the head of his cock brushing it with every impalement of his hips.

“I’m cumming, baby,” Jungkook warns. Not that he really needs to, you can feel his cock throb erratically inside you, twitching every now and then as your walls clench rhythmically around his shaft - massaging his entire length.

“Cum, baby. Cum in me. Wanna feel you deep in me,” you say softly, your hands softly massaging his shoulders. Jungkook lets out a little groan, pulling your hips harder down onto him as he tries to push his cock as deep as he can into you.

“Cum with me. Play with yourself. Wanna feel you cum around my cock,” Jungkook urgers, and you find yourself growing wetter at the authority present in his voice. Unable to deny him anything, you twist one arm between your body and begin expertly playing with your clit. The additional pleasure has you crying out in ecstasy. All of a sudden, you feel heat rush through your veins, your lips parting in a silent scream as you cum for a second time.

Feeling your walls clamp around him tightly, paired with the gushing of your cum around his cock, Jungkook let’s out a little groan. “Oh fuck,” he moans. Then with two stilted thrusts, he plunges his cock as deep as he can into you before cumming with a soft roar. His cock twitches inside your walls before he shoots rope after rope of hot cum inside you. You groan at the feel of his warmth, your toes curling in pleasure as the base of your spine tingles.

Jungkook holds you to him tightly, clutching your body to his as you both gasp and pant for air. The haziness of your euphoric high slowly abates, until you’re both left clinging to each other. Eventually, the white spots in your vision clear and you slowly pull away from him. You take in the sight of Jungkook, completely spent and sweat-soaked locks clinging to his forehead. Hearing you giggle, Jungkook opens one eye to peek at you.

“Stop laughing at me,” he pouts. Once again, you giggle at him, and then let yourself fall against him. Exhaustion weighs down your muscles and you find yourself snuggling into Jungkook’s chest, sleep already replacing the lust-filled fog that clouds your head.

“I can’t help it if you’re so cute,” you mumble sleepily. Jungkook bites his lips, lightly snorting through his nose. However, he simply doesn’t have the energy to argue with you. Instead, he sits quietly while attempting to catch his breath.

Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of a rest - but when he turns to you, you’re already deeply asleep, a small smile on your lips. Tenderly, Jungkook tuts, but there’s no real ire in it. Gathering you in his arms, he picks you up, wincing when his muscles protest the movement. Ignoring the pain, he carries you into your bedroom before gently depositing under the cover.

Fatigue quickly overcomes him, and it’s all Jungkook can do to not collapse beside you. Holding off, however, he manages to sluggishly pull himself under the cover. Once under the thick sheets, Jungkook shifts closer to you before he pulls you into his arms. You’re both sticky - your skin covered in a light sheen of perspiration - and it’s slightly uncomfortable, but Jungkook doesn’t care.

He’d be damned if he spent one more night without you in his arms.

a/n: owo i hope you enjoyed it! please don’t forget to tell me what you thought 🥺

⇥ Masterlist

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bisexualbuck · 4 years ago

Text

My 911 Fic Writing Masterlist

(Last edited May 28th 2021)

I’ve finally decided to do a masterpost of all my writing for the show 911 which is the fandom I’ve written the most for. There are 33 fics in this post, holy crap.

(If anyone is interested, I’ve also written for Star Trek AOS, Leverage, the MCU, among many other fandoms.)

As a general note, I’ll say most of my fics have Buddie elements and I also try to have at least one Firefam moment. Also, please check each fic’s warnings.

This is going to be long so most of it will be under a read more.

Last thing, please! If you like any of these stories, please consider leaving a comment and reblogging this post.

Multi Chapter

Reaching In The Dark | 38.7k

It all started innocent enough but Buck can no longer deny it.

He has a stalker.

Someone so obsessed with him that they would spend hours and hours following him, unnoticed, taking pictures of him, taking notes of his habits.

But life has been so good lately, and Buck doesn’t want to worry anyone. So he tells no one about it, he can deal with it on his own.

Leave My Body | 23k

"Do you want to see how it could have been? You are so sure you've been a burden on everyone you've ever met, but I can show you the truth."

Buck dies but it's not the end.

(Inspired by the movie It's a Wonderful Life)

Encore | 20.1k

“I’m going insane.”

“Did something happen?”

A dark, bitter laugh bubbles out of Buck – a mockery of joy.

“Everything keeps happening, and it’s still the same fucking day. It’s always the same and every time it’s different and I can’t do anything.”

Buck keeps reliving the same day, over and over again.

Hurt/Comfort

Death, Be Not Proud | 10.1k

There are moments barge loudly into your life and, even as you’re going through them, you know they will change everything.

There are other moments that happen quietly, unnoticed, and it’s only afterwards that you know, looking back, that they have changed your life.

When the 118 is called to a decrepit house, they don’t think much of it.

Yet this will change their lives forever.

Silent Storm | 4.4k

Buck wakes up in the hospital.

Except he can't move. He can't speak.

But he can hear everything.

Dying Of The Light | 4.1k

If Purgatory was a place on Earth, it would be a hospital waiting room.

Buck is in a coma, brain-dead - or so that's what the doctors say anyway.

(Silent Storm told from the Firefam's POV)

No Kingdom To Come | 8k

Days pass, then weeks that soon turn into months. Buck doesn’t call, he doesn’t text.

They don’t even know if he is still alive.

Maddie files a missing person’s report. Athena checks for any mention of his name anywhere in the country.

Nothing pops up, no one calls.

Buck is gone.

The Courage To Heal | 1.4k

He remembers her perfume. Thick, flowery – it makes him retch.

Why does he remember her perfume? Every time he smells anything like it, he wants to throw up, he wants to rush in the shower and try to wash away the stink of it.

Why can’t he move on?

He’s had sex with countless people over the years, especially back in his Buck 1.0 days, so why does that encounter remain? Why does it make him sick?

Why does he feel so ashamed?

Buck opens up about Dr Wells, the therapist from season 1.

The Loneliness Never Left Me | 2k

“Buck is afraid he is gonna end up like Red, without friends, without family. He thinks the job is the only thing he’ll ever have and that he’ll always be alone.”

Silence falls around them, heavy and suffocating.

“We need to show him that he’s got us."

“Not show him,” Chim says. “Tell him.”

Forever Day | 2k

The man pulls a gun out.

He aims it at Buck’s head.

“If you take another step I will blast your brains on the ground."

Hollow | ~300

Bobby on the day of his late wife and kids’ deaths, with Athena by his side.

Those Days | ~600

A look into Eddie and Christopher having a bad day made better by having each other.

Little Hope | ~500

A moment of support between two friends, Karen and Eddie, as Hen lays unconscious in a hospital bed.

Firefam Feels

Alone Again | 1.2k

Post S04E04

After standing up for himself to his parents, Buck feels hollow.

He isn't sure how he finds himself at Athena and Bobby's home, but maybe that's exactly where he needs to be.

Make It Three | 3.2k

It takes him twenty full minutes to realize what he has said, and then it hits him like a goddamn freight train.

Oh no. Oh no.

Buck just hung up on the phone on Athena Grant telling her that he loved her like he’s been doing it every day of his life.

Oh no.

Buck slips up and tells Athena he loves her. He has a bit of a freak out.

Words Unsaid | 2.2k

“What’s going on?” Bobby and Buck say in unison.

“You two,” Athena announces, “are going to talk things out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Buck says, like a liar. “Everything is fine.”

Buck overhears Bobby say that he's not his kid. He doesn't take it very well.

Lay You Down | 2k

Buck is sick and can't be left alone in his feverish state, but everyone is working.

Everyone but Athena.

That Which We Carry | 2.1k

Bobby stops in his tracks.

Buck is sitting on the ground, next to his own car, his keys and phone forgotten next to him. His breathing is loud and short and he has his head in his hands so that his face is hidden.

He’s having a panic attack.

To Be Loved, To Belong | 3.1k

5 times Buck almost tells his family what they mean to him.

+1 time he does.

Buried | 2.3k

It’s supposed to be a simple call.

Of course, everything goes wrong.

Just As It Was | 2.3k

After the lawsuit, Buck overworks himself trying to prove his worth to the team.

One day, he pushes too far.

Sunlight | ~500

The Buckley siblings have a bet about what Maddie and Chim’s kid’s first word will be.

Family Matters | ~500

A look into the future at Bobby’s retirement party.

Humor & Fluff

Freedom In Love | 1.1k

“You can’t keep ignoring this,” Maddie says – again.

She says it a lot. His answer is pretty much always the same.

“Actually, I can. And I think I will. This is working great for me so far. It’s like Schrödinger’s confession, if I don’t say anything, Eddie can’t reject me.”

Green Heart | 3k

Buck starts seeing a man.

Eddie worries he is being a bigot, because the idea of Buck kissing another man makes him want to punch someone.

What else could it be?

The Most Perfect Moment | 1.7k

After Shannon, Eddie never thought that he would ever want to get married again.

Yet, a little red box lays in his pocket until the perfect moment to propose comes around.He has been carrying it for weeks now, waiting.

He wants his proposal to be perfect because he knows that this is the last time he will ever be asking this question. Buck is it for him. There will never be anyone else.

Blame It On Chimney | 1k

“So anyway, that’s how Chimney saw me full-on naked.”

Eddie chokes on his beer.

How It Looks | ~400

Someone is back to haunt Chim. Well, not exactly someone. Hen is tired.

The Rest Of Our Lives | ~500

One night, one conversation that changes everything between Buck and Eddie.

Tumblr Prompts

lover, be good to me | 7.1k

This is a collection of unrelated prompts first posted on my tumblr.

(Summary of each story in the first chapter's notes)

Eddie touching Buck’s birthmark | ~300

Eddie in a relationship is a clingy Eddie | ~200

Halloween at the station | ~500

Buck & Maddie being their cute selves | ~400

Misc.

from the bottom i come running | 3.7k

Co-written with the endlessly talented ksmalltalk / @letitialewiss

Crossover with Lone Star.

Just a soccer match for charity and two men cheering on their boyfriends.

Wait, no. Eddie and Buck are not dating, no matter what Chim and Hen can say.

In the stands, Eddie befriends TK whose boyfriend is playing alongside Buck. Out on the pitch, Buck and Carlos are a force to be reckoned with.

Oh, and someone gets hurt.

safe inside | 5.6k

Co-written with the biggest-brained and most talented chasingobligion / @starlightbuck

World-famous actor TK Strand and his bodyguard Carlos find themselves seeking shelter from fans and paparazzi in a bakery Carlos knows very well.

Baking leads to a few life changes.

Breathe You In | 2k

Eddie can’t stop staring.

This selfie is going to be the death of him.Buck is shirtless, and giving the camera an intense look that leaves Eddie panting.

Buck sends a picture that tips their relationship into something new.

#911 #911 fic #buddie #firefam #evan buckley #eddie diaz #my writing #this took me FOREVER #it's also about to kill my computer because tumblr is lagging so much so i'm just gonna post #if there is an issue with the links or something else please reach out to me thanks!!#and please reblog and comment if you like my writing!!#i might come out of fic writing hiatus at some point soonish #edited

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losingmymindtonight · 5 years ago

Text

Whump: Hostage

AN: Y’all I mean it when I say that this one is long. It’s over 11k. So, if you’d rather read it on the AO3, I’m linking it right here.

Just a little housekeeping before we proceed! This is set post-Endgame, but with a few tweaks to pieces that I didn’t like, because this is fanfiction and I can do that. For one, Tony’s alive. Steve did not go back to Peggy. Bruce is not... that weird Hulk/Bruce thing.

This is technically a continuation of my last bingo square, which was AU: TV/Movie! You don’t need to have read that for this to make sense, but it would definitely help! If you haven’t read that other fic, just know that May died sometime after Endgame and Tony adopted Peter.

There’s a little ‘bonus scene’ at the end of this, from Natasha’s POV. It’s my version of an end credit scene, I guess. If I’m being honest, I don’t even know why it’s there, but it is.

This boy is long, and some parts are edited a lot better than others. Did I mention that this thing is 11k yet? Because it is, and I think I’ve gone insane.

EDIT: I’m a dumbass and I forgot to mention that this one is based off of a West Wing episode, just like the last square. If you’re a West Wing fan and it feels familiar, that’s why!

WARNINGS: kidnapping, mentions of date-rape drugs (but no sexual assault, just a brief mention near the end, and not in reference to something that actually occurred), non-consensual drug use, a couple mentions of alcohol, lots and lots of ruminations on a missing persons case, discussions of death (I don’t think there’s anything too graphic, but it’s there).

“Suma cum laude from Columbia. Columbia, Rhodey. Did you know that their acceptance rate is 5.1%? That’s the second most selective college in the Ivy League.”

Rhodey didn’t look nearly as impressed as Tony thought was appropriate. He just took a sip from his whiskey, tone dripping with sarcasm. “So you’ve told me.”

“That’s more selective than MIT.” He gestured with his own glass, although his was filled with some of Morgan’s apple juice. “Their acceptance rate is 7.9%. That’s a 2.8% difference.”

“Yes, Tones. I, too, am capable of basic math. Even though I did graduate from MIT, which is obviously the inferior institution here.”

He glared. “Yeah, well, did you know that Peter graduated on a 4.0 GPA? You know how hard it is to graduate on a 4.0 GPA at an Ivy League school?”

“I don’t know. Probably about as hard as graduating on a 4.0 GPA at MIT. Which I did, by the way.”

“Are you ever gonna let that one go? I’m the visionary of a generation, but I got one B in an English class and my best friend does a mutiny.”

“Yeah, well, your son managed to make an A in English.”

“He did, didn’t he?” He grinned, still drunk on the memory of Peter in his cap and gown, leaning down so that Morgan could adjust the tassel. “I think he made a 99 in that course, too. He’s smarter than you and me, Rhodey. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Rhodey held up a hand, stalling him. “I’m sorry, you remember the exact number?”

“Of course he remembers the number, Rhodey,” Pepper sighed, slumping down at Tony’s side with a glass of wine in her hand. “He used to pin the screenshots from Canvas up in his office.”

Used to? He thought, a little incredulous. He still had them there.

“Listen,” he griped, “there are worse crimes than a father being proud of his child. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Sure,” Rhodey said, not even trying to conceal his amusement. “By the way, I thought that his security detail did a good job of blending in today. If I didn’t personally know all of them, I wouldn’t’ve suspected a thing.”

Tony snorted. “Let me tell you something: when it’s your kid, you don’t want them to blend in. You want them carrying a sign that says, I’m carrying a loaded gun and the safety’s off.” He swirled a finger around the rim of his glass. “But, yeah. I think Peter even managed to forget about them for most of it, which was the goal.”

“His speech was lovely as well,” Pepper interjected. “Very polished. He’s grown up a lot.”

A dagger of nostalgia pierced through him. “Oh, don’t remind me. I swear that I was coaching him through his first awkward date just a couple of days ago. What the hell is he doing going off to California all alone? It’s ridiculous.”

Rhodey snorted. “Sorry, I don’t get it. Are you proud of him or are you trying to lock him in the house and never let him out? I’m just trying to make sure that we’re all on the same page here.”

A chime from Rhodey’s phone interrupted the conversation. The man glanced down at the screen, expression darkening at whatever it was that he found there, and then quickly excused himself.

Tony didn’t really think anything of it. Rhodey got a lot of calls and texts that weren’t pleasant. It came with the territory of being such a high-ranking Colonel in the military. Nobody on Earth would call that a relaxing job. Plus, he still flew the occasional mission as War Machine. Not every superhero was quite as ready to leap into retirement as Tony had been.

Minutes trickled past with Rhodey out of the room, and Tony and Pepper found themselves constantly circling back to their favorite topic: their kids. They (well, it was mostly him, but Pep joined in occasionally) reminisced and complained, in the pride-struck kind of way, about the bittersweet upheaval that the upcoming months would bring to their lives. It was nice. It was quiet. It was a taste of the peace that he’d fought for through all those years as Iron Man.

Isn't that the mission? Isn't that why we fight? So we can end the fight? So we get to go home?

He’d ended the fight, and the endgame had been so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. When he’d said that to Steve, he hadn’t even had a home. His home had been the Avengers, even if he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. But after Thanos, after hanging up the armor and looking into a future, a real future, he’d built a home. He’d built a home out of a dozen scattered bricks: the scarred shambles of his and Pepper’s baggage-laden love affair, a pregnancy test that was never meant to be positive, and a frightened, orphaned teenager with nowhere left to go. He’d taken those foundations, and he’d built and built and built until they were sheltered. Until they were home.

The pain of letting Peter leave, of releasing his grip and watching him run off to California to be his own person, to build his own home, his own life, was such a new, privileged kind of pain. It hurt, but in a gentle way. In the way that good things sometimes ached in the beginning, before they settled into a normalcy.

Tony had just decided that he’d be happy to live through a hundred moments of Peter graduating college (just so long as he could feel this proud with each repetition) when Rhodey surged back into the room, chest heaving.

He knew, somehow. He knew from the moment he saw the look on his best friend’s face. He knew even before Happy, who was not supposed to be here, who was supposed to be with Peter at some graduation party in the city, came barreling in at his heels. He knew.

Maybe it was a father’s intuition, maybe it was just paranoia, but he knew, and that knowing was the absolute worst thing in the world.

Everything froze.

“Rhodey?” He set his glass down on the coffee table, half-rose from the couch, wanting to ask but desperately not wanting to hear the answer that came after the asking. “What’s-”

“Tony, it’s Peter.”

The world had broken into color and chaos. The drinks had been cleared away, the coffee table in the living room swiped clean. Pepper was in the kitchen, babbling on the phone to about a dozen different people at SI, trying to organize whatever and whoever she could. The team was on their way: the new and the old. He’d spoken to Steve for a stunted 30 seconds, had pulled himself out of his adrenaline just long enough to process his promise of I’ll be there in an hour before hitting End Call.

He was sitting on the floor, now, back pressed against the couch, clutching the TV remote in his left hand for no reason other than to be holding something.

“Is Morgan still in her room?” He whispered, because that was… that was all he had left. God, he couldn’t live without one of them, how would he possibly survive losing them both?

“Yeah, Tony.” Happy seemed hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how much information he was meant to be revealing. “Pepper checked on her. We’re letting her sleep.”

“Okay. Okay.” He closed his eyes. Tried to steady himself on a home-grown foundation that had just lost one of its most vital supports. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

Rhodey knelt beside him, hand heavy on his shoulder. “Tony, are you sure that you shouldn’t-

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snarled, although he wasn’t really sure what he was sure about. He wanted his child back? Yeah… Yeah. He was sure about that. He was sure about regretting the fact that he’d ever let Peter leave his sight. “Now, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Happy sighed, pushing the coffee table out of the way and joining Rhodey on his knees in front of him. It was funny, in a horrible, morbid, stomach-twisting sort of way. Three of the most high-powered men in the country were kneeling on the floor, falling to pieces because a single kid was missing.

“He was with his friends, at a club,” Happy started slowly. “We had two of his guards in there with him, blending in and keeping their distance, and a group of six more stationed on the outside. He got up to go to the bathroom. One of the guards followed, the other stuck by his friends so they could have eyes on him when he came back. We don’t really know what the hell happened after that. As far as the guards saw, he never came out of the bathroom. One of them went in after about ten minutes, checked all the stalls. His phone was on the floor, but he wasn’t there, so they raised the alarm. We scanned the perimeter, and found skid marks and one of the external guards down by the kitchen’s loading area-”

Tony hated panic, hated situations that threw him in the deep end like this. He wasn’t used to being slow, to being one step behind everyone else, but that’s exactly what this was. He was handicapped, stuck in molasses because this was his child. There was nothing… There was no way that the word efficiency could slot into the haze settling over him.

“What, uh,” he shook his head, trying to clear it, to knock his thoughts into something orderly and complete, “what do you mean, one of the guards was down?”

“They’re dead, Tony,” Happy breathed, and even though his own turmoil, Tony could see the pain on the man’s face. “Whoever took Peter shot them in the head. By the time we got to the scene, there was nothing we could do.”

Peter’s never going to forgive himself for that.

He didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel guilt over the fact that his only concern was for Peter. The guard… he’d feel bad about that later. He’d compartmentalize it, because it was selfish and horrible and very unheroic, but nobody mattered more than Peter. Nobody mattered more than his kid.

“Why… Why didn’t he hit his panic button?”

“That’s the question.” Happy scrubbed a hand down the front of his face. Every inch of him looked tired, like he’d been running on empty for weeks and weeks and weeks, except it hadn’t been weeks. It had only been a few hours since Peter had been taken, only a few minutes since Tony had been told, but it felt like… it felt like decades. “We found it out in the alley, a few feet away from where we think the getaway car must’ve been parked. He never pushed it.”

“He didn’t push it?”

“No.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Sure, Peter could be a brat about security sometimes, but he did use the resources he was given. He’d hit the panic button multiple times before. Why didn’t he do it now? Why?

He shook his head again, swallowed hard past the lump growing in his throat. “So… So he knew them. He must’ve.”

“Or… Tony, you know I don’t wanna be the person to break this to you, but he was drunk. He’d already had about half a bottle of champagne and a few shots by the time he was taken. One of the guards said he was stumbling when he got up to go to the bathroom, and his friends told us that he seemed pretty wasted.”

That shouldn’t have mattered. Peter was… he was 22, for god’s sake. He’d just graduated valedictorian from Columbia. The kid was allowed to drink some champagne, to get a little-

“Wait, no.” He ran a few numbers through his head, cold and ice and dread sprouting up in his lungs as they refused to compute. “That… he was stumbling?”

“Yeah. That’s what one of his detail said, at least.”

“No, that… that doesn’t make sense, Hap. He… He shouldn’t’ve been that out of it already. His… His metabolism. It’d take more than some champagne and a few shots to get him that drunk. He’d need… He’d need something else.”

Realization snapped over Happy’s face, and he lunged to his feet, kicked the leg of the coffee table irritably when it got in his way. “Fuck. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? They drugged him. They must’ve.”

Rhodey rubbed Tony’s shoulder, his calm presence the only anchor in wave after wave of helplessness, failure, fear. “Then they were inside the club. Or they had someone helping them.”

Happy was nodding restlessly, already working furiously on his phone. “I’m gonna call the guys on the scene, tell them to detain the bartender and anybody else who might’ve had access to the kid’s drink. And I’ll have someone get his glass and that bottle of champagne for testing.”

“You go,” Rhodey said, slipping forward to settle down at Tony’s side. “I’ll stay here. Hold down the fort.”

“Got it.”

Happy was rushing for the door. Tony could still hear Pepper talking in the kitchen. The team must’ve been most of the way to the cabin by now, scrambling over themselves because this was… it was all too much. Too awful to comprehend. Tony’s brain couldn’t process it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Peter just… wasn’t going to come home. Wasn’t going to walk through the front door, a little tipsy and a little unbalanced but fine. Safe and loved and present. Ready to fly off to California at the end of the summer and leave a very, very proud Tony behind.

“Happy?” He called out, voice rough. The man went stock-still in the doorway, just barely turning to let him know that he had his attention. “Call me as soon as you know anything? Even if… Even if it’s bad. Just… please. Call me.”

That’s my baby, he thought, chest constricting at the bone-crushing loss of it all, if he’s dead… if he’s… if he’s never coming home, then I need to know. I need to know.

“I will, Tony. I promise.”

The Avengers blew into the cabin like a choreographed hurricane.

Tony had rarely had a chance to admire their efficiency from afar. He was usually on the outskirts of the disasters, working alongside them. But now he was the disaster. He was ground zero.

Rhodey brief them on what they knew so far, and the living room was quickly transformed from a haven of fireplace and colorful throws and family movie nights into a control room. The only thing that wasn’t touched was the couch Tony was leaning against. He didn’t even realize that it was because of him until Steve sat down on the carpet, brow furrowed in concern as he set a cautious hand on his knee.

“Tony, I want you to let Bruce examine you.”

He scoffed at the suggestion, bitterness rolling over him so suddenly that he felt swamped by it.

“And I want my child back,” he snarled. “Guess tonight’s just gonna be full of disappointments for all of us, huh?”

“Tony.”

“Don’t even start with me, Rogers.” He didn’t know why he was being so cruel to Steve. The man didn’t deserve it. He was just… the closest target. The easiest thing to despise. “I’m just not in the mood.”

“Tones,” Rhodey whispered, dropping down pacifyingly between him and Steve, “listen to me. You know that your heart’s weaker after the Snap. If I’m hauling your ass to a hospital, I’m not looking for your kid. We’ve gotta prioritize, here.”

Even in this state, Tony was clever enough to know when he was being manipulated.

Luckily for Rhodey, he was just too goddamn tired to care.

“Fine,” he growled. “What the fuck ever. Just do it.”

Rhodey was right, unfortunately. He didn’t have time for a heart attack right now, didn’t have time for his body to be anything but functional. After they brought Peter home, well… then it didn’t really matter anymore.

He blinked up at the ceiling, ignoring Bruce as he tugged out his arm, clipped something onto his finger.

Bring him home, he prayed, although to who, he didn’t really know, please, just bring him home to me.

Apparently, his blood pressure was high.

Everyone seemed pretty damn concerned about it, which was just… honestly, it was hilarious.

Did they think it wouldn’t be high? His child was off god-knows-where with god-knows-who, probably drugged and confused and afraid and desperately in need of his father, and Tony was supposed to be calming down for the sake of his blood pressure?

His blood pressure could go screw itself, for all he cared.

Of course, nobody else seemed to share his viewpoint. They all fussed over him. Pepper tried to get him to do some bullshit breathing exercises, while Bruce called Cho and bickered with her about medication and preventative measures.

He really didn’t know how to explain to everyone that there was only one cure, and it was his child, safe in his arms.

Until that happened, there wasn’t a drug or a pill or a yoga technique in the world that could save him.

Happy burst into the room without any ceremony.

“I’ve got the results from Peter’s drinks.”

Tony staggered upright, shoving Clint’s hands away as the man tried to steady him. He felt breakable, like a single touch might send cracks down his spine, into his bones and down through the ground. Like one wrong move might split him apart.

“And?”

Happy winced. Physically winced, like the words he was about to say weighed a thousand tons. “They found gamma hydroxy butyrate, more commonly known as-”

“GHB,” Tony finished, and he was surprised by how numb he felt at the news. It should’ve terrified him. At the very least, he should’ve felt something. Instead, he just stared at it clinically, chemical formulas and sterile facts filling his head in place of the things he just couldn’t think about. The things he didn’t want to face. “It’s degreasing solvent mixed with drain cleaner.”

God. Drain cleaner. Someone… Someone had given his kid drain cleaner.

“Exactly,” Happy said, voice small and unsure. “And in low doses-”

“In low doses,” he breathed, “it’s a date-rape drug.”

Pain streaked across his old bodyguard’s face: a cocktail of guilt and terror and shame. “Yeah, Tony. It’s… It’s a date-rape drug.”

He swallowed. “That’s, uh, that’s why he was stumbling. Why he didn’t hit the panic button.”

Happy nodded. “Yeah. From the looks of the doses, it was probably meant to knock him out, but with his metabolism…”

Tony finished the sentence in his head. With his metabolism, it probably just made him feel awful, sick, confused. He probably wondered what the hell was happening to him. He probably wanted me.

“He was awake when they took him,” Tony whispered, nauseous. God, he was awake when they took him.

“That’s our best guess. And, uh, Tony…. Listen, I don’t really know if I should be telling you this, but-”

“Tell me,” he ordered, voice somehow sharp and resigned all at once. He… He had to hear it. He had to hear everything. It didn’t matter if it gave him nightmares for the rest of his life, didn’t matter if it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

It was the only link to Peter that he had.

Happy was silent for a few seconds, then let out a defeated breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Peter’s phone. Tony knew it was his because of the case: pink and green and godawful to look at. The kid had only bought it because Morgan had liked it so much.

“We’ve gotten all we can from this, so I thought I’d give it back.” He handed it over, and Tony slid his fingers over the case, borderline reverent. He could still imagine it in Peter’s hands, or charging on his bedside table, or getting tossed onto the couch in favor of playing a boardgame with Morgan. Tiny, insignificant snippets of life, and yet they mattered so much. They’d mattered so much. “We think he was using it when they grabbed him.”

He tilted the phone to the light, watched his reflection warp in the glass screen. “What was he doing?”

“He was texting you.”

Something icy gripped his chest. When he finally managed to force words up his throat, his voice came out hoarse.

“What’d he say?”

Happy just gestured at the phone, expression pinched. “Bathroom didn’t have any service, so none of them sent, but it’s all still there. We didn’t delete anything. D’you know his passcode?”

“Yeah,” he said. Peter just doesn’t think that I do.

“Okay. Well, I’m… I’m gonna get back to work. I’ll come back if we find anything.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to read it, Tony.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Alright.”

He heard rather than saw Happy move away, just barely caught him murmuring, “don’t let him spiral,” to Rhodey before he left.

Sure enough, Rhodey was right beside him within a few seconds, voice lowered in a guise of privacy, despite the fact that the room was still packed with Avengers, all pretending not to watch but definitely watching.

“Tony, it’s late,” he whispered. “Don’t do this now. Get some rest, and you can face it in the morning, if you really have to.”

“No,” he said, more forceful than he’d intended, but then again, Rhodey just didn’t understand. He was holding his child’s last words in his hands. How could he not read them? What kind of father would he be if he didn’t? “No. I need to do this now.”

He left the living room before anyone could stop him.

Happy’s car was already gone by the time he got to the front porch. He briefly considered settling down in one of the rocking chairs, or the porch swing, but every one of them carried a dozen memories of Peter, of summer days and fall nights and laughter and warmth and the kid’s head pressing heavy on his shoulder and he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face them.

He sat on the floor, back pressed up against the cabin, knees drawn to his chest.

He unlocked Peter’s phone. The brightness was up, but it automatically adjusted after a second or two. He opened the messages app, clicked his contact icon, and read.

hey tony? i thimk i fucked up (ERROR: not delivered)

i feel super super gross (ERROR: not delivered)

:( (ERROR: not delivered)

plz dont be mad i didnt mean to grt thsi drunk (ERROR: not delivered)

ugh fuck batgroom service (ERROR: not delivered)

i just kinda wish u were here to yell at me rn (ERROR: not delivered)

The front porch was nice at sunrise.

He’d spent so many hours out here, with Morgan and Peter. Both of them tended to be up early: Morgan because she was a child, Peter because he carried things that no child ever should. He’d sit with them, curled up under one of the afghans Pepper liked to buy from pop-up markets, and watch the sky become an oil painting.

That’d be a pretty smoothie, Morgan would say, pointing at the horizon, and Peter would laugh like she was the funniest thing in the world.

And what would it taste like, Mo?

Like a smoothie!

He heard the door swing open to his left, and while he knew it wasn’t Peter, a tiny part of him wanted to keeping pretending.

“Tones?”

Rhodey. Right. Of course it was Rhodey. Who else would come out here this early, ready to pick his ass up off the floor?

“Did you find anything?” He rasped, still staring out at the lake, watching the daylight step into the clouds, wishing he was watching Peter instead.

“Not yet.”

He just barely inclined his head in response. The answer should’ve hurt him, should’ve stung or panged or something, but it didn’t. After a while, pain just become pain. There wasn’t a scale anymore, wasn’t any room for additions or levels. There was just pain. Pain, and a family missing child. That’s all Tony had.

“I need you to tell me something,” he whispered, then swallowed. His throat scratched, dry and hot, “and I need you to be honest with me when you answer.”

Rhodey sat down beside him, leg braces glowing gently in the yellow-red dawn. “I can do that,” he responded, solemn.

“Do you… Do you think he’s already dead?”

Rhodey’s answer came immediately. “No.”

“Are you lying?”

“If I thought he was dead, I’d tell you.”

“Do you promise?” He balled up a fist, resisted to urge to slam it through the nearest object. “If you… If we reach a point where you think he’s dead, do you promise to tell me?”

He knew he was asking a lot. He could tell, because Rhodey’s breath caught, and he paused. Considered.

“Yeah, Tony,” Rhodey murmured, with all the enthusiasm of someone bartering away their soul. “I promise.”

“Good.” It wasn’t, but it felt like the right thing to say. “This is… This is bad, Rhodey.”

“Yeah, Tony, I know.”

He dropped his head into his hands, strained and exhausting and defeated. Peter was all it took, and Iron Man was down, decimated, conquered.

“If… If they show me a picture of him alive,” he whispered, and he knew he was saying something awful, admitting something dark and frightening, “and then they tell me to aim missiles at… at some hospital full of refugees on the Syrian border, they’re counting on the fact that a father would-”

“But you wouldn’t.”

His head snapped back up, and he nearly laughed at the conviction in Rhodey’s voice. God, had everyone really forgotten who he truly was? The heroism of Iron Man was an act. It was a stage curtain, drawn down to hide the monster underneath. Tony Stark was not a good man. He was certainly not a selfless one.

Yet he was so good at pretending that even his best friend believed the ruse.

He turned to stare at Rhodey, voice low. “I might.”

And that might be the most important thing I’ve ever said to you.

The corner of Rhodey’s mouth quirked up, like some part of this was actually amusing to him. “There are people around you who won’t let you.”

He couldn’t possibly be this good at deception. Had Rhodey actually forgotten? Had he forgotten that Tony hadn’t always been an Avenger, that the Merchant of Death was still a title that haunted him? Somedays, he was almost certain that he was more Merchant of Death than he was Iron Man. More a war-profiteer than he was an idol.

“What about a picture?” He said, because he didn’t know how to stop. He’d never known how to stop. “They’ve got a knife to his throat, and they tell me to send a Jericho missile to a bunker in Afghanistan?”

Rhodey shook his head. “You shouldn’t think of images like that.”

This time, he did laugh. Rhodey flinched, concern etched in every inch of his face, because yeah, Tony probably looked like he was losing his mind. And wasn’t he? His child was missing. There was no sanity to this.

“All I can think of are images like that.”

“Tony…”

“I know it's a strange time to bring this up,” he said, and he knew it was abrupt, but nothing seemed quite so linear anymore, “but I forecasted this once. I made up a scary story a few years ago for Peter so that he’d take his protection seriously, and I… and I went too far. And I scared him.” He let out a breath, years-harbored shame rising in his chest. “And he cried. And this… this was the story.”

“Tony-”

“I’m supposed to keep him safe.” His shoulders jerked, his breath hitched. He bit his knuckles to hold back a sob, ribs creaking under the strain of keeping it in. “That’s… fuck, Rhodey, that’s my only job. I’m supposed to keep him safe.”

“You can’t protect him from everything.” There was a pause, hesitant. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because he’s your child. He’s gotta find his way just like everybody else, and you were letting him do that.”

He wished it was as easy as that, as straightforward and simple to navigate, but it wasn’t. Once again, they’d found their way back to the same frustration he’d been helping Peter cope with for years: being a Stark was not normal. Nothing around them would ever be normal. Sure, the world didn’t stop spinning, but they had to operate differently inside of it, just because of Tony and his curse of a last name.

The money was nice. The fame was even pleasant, every once in a while. It certainly had been when he was young. But now? God, Tony just wanted quiet. He didn’t want this for his children. He’d give anything to drop off the radar, live in some middle-class neighborhood, buy a lawnmower, argue with Pepper about school districts.

“But they took him because he’s my child,” he pushed. They took him because they know it’ll break me. “This… This wouldn’t’ve happened to another kid, Rhodey. You know that.”

“Maybe not, but it did happen, and that’s what you’ve got to work with. Now, come inside,” Rhodey ordered, slicing a knife down on the conversation, as if ending the words could end the horrors still playing through Tony’s head. “Come inside, sit with your wife, and let us fix this.”

There is no fixing this. This will never be fixed.

But instead of staying that, he just did as he was told, and hoped that the next few hours wouldn’t bring him doing something awful in Peter’s name.

It was such a pure name, washed clean by kid who carried it. It didn’t deserve to be sullied by Tony’s true nature, by the darkness he dragged behind him like a chain.

God knows that enough had already been sacrificed on that altar.

It was daylight, and there were reporters outside.

Happy and his guys were keeping them back. Apparently, they’d released details of Peter’s kidnapping to the press in the hope that someone might’ve seen something, that they’d come forward with information. In these kinds of cases, one detail, one first person account, could be the difference between life and death.

They’d set up a hotline, and the team was already chasing a few leads, but the reporters were chasing the story, the sensationalism of it all, and Tony hated it.

His child wasn’t a headline. His child was a child. A living, breathing, precious person. Something be cradled and adored and protected. Not something be exploited for a melodramatic hook.

Pepper and Steve would talk about it in tense, hushed tones. A couple of the Avengers had gone out to talk to the gathered press, just once or twice, but Tony didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

What did other parents do when this sort of thing happened? When their child was taken from them? He remembered a few high-profile kidnappings, all distant and wobbly in his head. What did they do? Did they print flyers? Did they give interviews? Did they beg?

Wait. Wait. That’s… That’s exactly what parents did.

They begged. They pleaded. They told the kidnappers that they’d do whatever they wanted, as long as they got their baby back.

He staggered to his feet, a little wobbly but emotions finally hardening into something tangible, something he could focus on.

There were only a few things on Earth that Tony Stark was willing to swallow his pride for, and this… this was one of them. His children would always be one of them.

He was going to beg.

He only made it about four steps towards the cabin’s door before the team noticed. There were a solid few seconds of scattered glances, a rapid exchange of responsibilities, until Natasha stood and took the lead.

“Tony?” She grabbed at his arm, expression somehow soft and fierce all at once. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make a direct appeal.”

The whole room went silent. He made the mistake of glancing at Clint’s face, and the raw pity there made him want to scream.

“Tony,” Nat said, voice quiet, coaxing, lowered like he was stupid, “you can’t.”

“I’m his father,” he choked out, because at the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered, the only explanation that he should ever have to give. “I-I don’t even know why I’ve waited this long. I-”

And then Steve was there, reaching for his other arm, voice as calm and solid as it always was.

“Come on, Tony, let’s think this through-”

“Get away from me,” he snapped.

“Tony-”

“I’m going to make a direct appeal,” he repeated, and even he knew that he sounded like a broken record, but he just… all he could see was Peter. The stupid grin on his face earlier that day, when Morgan had barreled into his chest and he’d scooped her up off the ground, spinning her like she was the one who just graduated, like she was the most valuable thing he’d ever held. “I don’t know why I waited this long.”

Nat sounded a little desperate now, pulling hard at his sleeve, warning. “Tony, I know that you’ve convinced yourself that you’re doing what’s right, but you’re not thinking straight-”

And then there was Pepper.

She planted herself between him and the door, firm and solid and Tony knew, he knew that he wasn’t getting past her. He knew it from the moment he saw the look on her face: devastated and loving and calm.

“Stop it, Tony,” she said, soft and kind.

He grabbed for her, taking fistfuls of her shirt and clinging. He felt like a little kid, confused and lost and alone. He was navigating whitewater rapids without a map or a paddle. He couldn’t… He couldn’t do this. People weren’t built to survive this kind of thing. It wasn’t possible.

“I… I have to make a direct-”

“No,” she murmured, cutting him off. “No, Tony, Natasha’s right. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

He had meant for the question to be abrasive, angry, but it just came out broken.

“It can be seen as negotiating with the people who took him,” Pepper said, not apologizing, not pulling punches, “and if their goal is to destabilize us, or Stark Industries, or the Avengers, then they're going to see you and know that they're succeeding.” She let out a breath, composure cracking just a little, just at the corners. “You… You can’t make a direct appeal.”

He knew she was right. He’d known she was right long before he’d even made the choice to do it.

It still felt like he’d been torn in two.

He sank to the floor. He was vaguely aware of Natasha grabbing his elbow, guiding him down so he didn’t hurt himself. She pushed him up against the wall, then stepped away, gave him the room he needed to crumble.

“Honey,” Pepper whispered, voice hitching, hands tracing down his face. He didn’t know when she’d joined him on the floor, but he… he was so glad she was there. He was so glad that someone was still there. “Honey, I…”

“I’ve seen other fathers do it,” he croaked. “Before. In… In other kidnappings. I’ve seen other fathers do it.”

“I know.”

“I thought… I just thought that, that maybe if I tried, then I would’ve… then I would’ve done something.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand not doing something. I have to be doing something.”

“I know that, too.”

His eyes jerked up, meeting hers in a clash of long-harbored panic. “Pep… What if he’s…”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not other fathers,” she said gently, a sad smile on her face. “Other fathers make direct appeals because that’s all they can do. They’re going to want to negotiate, Tony.”

“I… I can’t negotiate, Pep. Not… Not for him. How could I?”

“I know that. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

He blinked. That was… a good idea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Pepper had never, ever lost a deal that mattered. Ever. She had a spotless track record. And while she loved Peter, she wasn’t as shredded by this as he was. Her head was still above the water, at least for now.

Pepper had joked, once, a little bitterly, that Peter was all Tony’s kid, she just helped out with the details. He knew that wasn’t entirely true, of course. She’d stepped up for Peter in ways that had mattered beyond her comprehension, but she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Peter had been his kid long before he’d been Pepper’s. And that changed dynamics. It had to.

“You have to bring him home.”

“We will, Tony,” Pepper said, and Tony wished with everything he had that he could drown himself in her belief, her faith. “We’re going to do everything we can to bring him back to you.”

He tried to ignore the fact that, as promises went, she’d just given him a pretty unstable one.

Tony was still sitting on the floor, staring blankly into nothing, when the alert chimed in.

He didn’t think anything of it, at first, and he supposed that he’d been doing a lot of that tonight. Staring past the obvious, overlooking the signs because ignorance was so blessed and calm compared to knowing.

But then Natasha’s face went hard, and she was waving for Steve, and then he was waving for Rhodey, and then he was waving for Pepper, and Tony realized that something had just gone very, very wrong.

He staggered upright, making a beeline for the rapidly growing group huddled around Natasha’s laptop. He couldn’t see past their shoulders, couldn’t even hear what they were saying, because so many voices were intersecting and overlapping in every other beat, and it was enough to make him want to scream.

“Is it Peter?” He snapped, and Steve swung to face him, face a mixture of pity and concern.

“Tony…”

That was all the answer he’d needed. It was Peter, then. Hell, what else would it be?

Something else had happened to Peter. Somewhere in his gut, he knew it was bad. Awful. Nothing that he wanted to see.

And yet he knew that he had to.

He tried to push past Steve’s restraining hand, craning his neck to catch of glimpse of the screen. “What is it?”

“It’s a ransom note,” Natasha said, forever to the point. He’d never appreciated that personality trait more than he did in that exact moment.

“And they sent a picture,” Steve added.

The world snapped to a halt. He felt hysterical. Unhinged. And Steve… Steve didn’t understand. None of them did, except maybe Clint. He was a father and he’d been torn away from his child. He just… He just wanted him back, even if it was in the form of a picture. Even if it was through a ransom note.

“Is it of Peter?!” He tried to lunge forward again, and failed. Damn Steve’s super strength. He wished he had the suit. “The… The picture. Is the picture of Peter?”

“Yeah, Tony, it is, but you have to understand-”

“Let me see,” he snarled. “He’s my kid. It’s for me. So let me see it.”

To his surprise, the group all exchanged glances, different people in varying degrees of sympathetic pain, and parted.

The image had obviously been taken with a polaroid camera, and then scanned or faxed alongside the handwritten ransom note. The quality was bad, but it was clear enough to show details. It… It wasn’t grainy enough to spare him.

Peter was tied to a chair, a dirty gag shoved into his mouth, digging into his cheeks. The kidnappers had tossed a newspaper into his lap, proof of life with the date clearly shown, but that wasn’t what caught Tony’s attention. No, it was Peter’s face that ached, somewhere deep in his gut. If he was a spiritual man, he would’ve said that it ached in his soul.

He knew his kid. Knew his eyes like he’d never known anything else. And that photo? It was wrong. Peter wasn’t just scared: he was drugged out of his mind. In fact, it was the general lack of fear in the kid’s gaze that disturbed him the most. He looked too incoherent for any emotion other than exhaustion.

He’d seen Peter high before, always after Spider-Man related injuries, but it’d never been like this. It had always been monitored, consensual, safe, and nothing they’d given him had ever made him vacant. He was usually just sleepy or giggly or both. He’d… He’d never looked so detached.

It made Tony want to hold him, shield him, but now he couldn’t do either of those things and it hurt.

“Oh, god,” he gasped, panic attack smacking right into him without warning, without a single chance to batten down the hatches. “Fuck.”

The world tilt-a-whirled. He felt Rhodey grab him, push and pull and tug him until he was sitting on the couch. His head was shoved between his knees, and conversations pinged around above him without any of the words computing. All he could hearseethink was Peter, Peter, Peter.

If I was a better father, none of this would’ve ever happened.

Eventually, someone grabbed his shoulders, hauled him upright, and it took him a full minute to realize it was Rhodey.

“Tony,” the Colonel said, and he sounded serious, like whatever he was saying was final, no arguments allow. “I’m going to call Bruce, alright?”

Yes. Yes. Bruce… Bruce would be good now. He’d heard them whispering about sedating him earlier, off in corners and hallways, when they thought he was too absorbed in his grief to notice. At the time, the thought had made his heart race, terror and revulsion making him paranoid. He couldn’t check out. He couldn’t. What use would he be to Peter like that?

Now, he’d lunge for just about anything that would take this feeling away. That would let him pull back from the grainy images of Peter’s eyes: glassy, unfocused, afraid and confused and lacking in that spark that would lull Tony into moments of forgetfulness. Moments when he’d genuinely have to remind himself that Morgan was the one with his DNA, not Peter.

“Tell him,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut against the things he didn’t want to see, the photo that he’d never be able to forget, “tell him that I want whatever it is that Peter got.”

He didn’t know how long he slept for, but he knew that when he woke up, he woke up groggy. Groggy enough that, for a shamefully calm half hour, he forgot that Peter was missing.

And then he remembered, and he lost his child all over again.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. must’ve alerted Pepper when his heartrate spiked, because she slipped into the room within two minutes. She sat beside him, hand resting on his hip through their comforter. Her eyes were red, but she smiled like it was just another Tuesday, like their entire world wasn’t crumbling down around their feet, and he envied her. He envied her the composure. The ability to catalogue the things that were important and the things that weren’t.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

“I thought you’d sleep longer than this.”

He pursed his lips, ignored the implicit suggestion in the words. “Anything new?”

“No.”

He nodded, took in the disappointment slowly, wondered how long he could survive living in limbo. There were thousands upon thousands of unsolved missing persons cases in the United States alone. Every hour that crawled by lessened their chances of bringing Peter home alive, or even bringing him home at all. How could Tony possibly be one of those parents, the ones who spent the rest of their heartbeats agonizing over their child’s loss?

Are they still alive, hidden somewhere out in the world, vulnerable and unprotected? Are they dead? Which option is better: knowing that they’re alive, and suffering, or dead and free? Oh, god. What was it like, at the end? Were they afraid? Did they cry? Did they call out for their dad, because he was the one person who was always meant to save them?

Tony hadn’t been there for the start of Peter’s life. And now it might be over, Peter might be gone, and he hadn’t even been there for that, too. Couldn’t even say if it had happened.

“What time is it?” He asked, just to distract himself. Besides, every hour marked a dwindling statistic. Tony needed to know if they stood a chance, if there was still even a sliver of hope, and someone must’ve closed the curtains after he’d gone to bed, so he couldn’t quite see if there was daylight or darkness behind them.

“7:30.”

“Oh,” he whispered. That was later than he’d thought. The graph in his head nosedived. “Bruce gave me something.”

Pepper’s face twitched, eyes bleeding sympathy. “I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“They gave… They gave Peter something, too,” he choked out, “and… and he said that it made him feel sick and I wasn’t there to take care of him.”

Pepper’s blink lasted a good few seconds longer than it should’ve, as if watching Tony crumble was too much for her to watch, but the rest of her stayed steady. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He swallowed, trying to stamp down the perpetual helplessness that had taken residence in his gut, replace it with something else, something he could hold.

“How’s Morgan?”

“She’s okay. She’s been asking to see you.”

“I wanna see her.”

“In a minute.” Pepper slid her hand through his hair, voice soft, the kind of tone she used with Morgan or Peter when they were upset. “Try to relax a little first.”

“I had a dream,” he blurted. He knew that this was probably the opposite of what Pepper meant by relaxing, but he couldn’t help it. “I was in Peter’s bedroom, but it was… it was before. Right after May died. Remember… Remember how he wouldn’t get out of bed?”

For a split second, Pepper’s face flashed from composure to devastation, but it was so brief that it was easy to imagine that it had never happened at all. “Of course I remember. He wouldn’t get up, so you used to go in there and sit with him.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and he smiled despite himself. He treasured those memories just as much as he wished they’d never happened. Helping Peter grieve for May was an ongoing tragedy, and one of the hardest things he’d ever had to watch, but once the initial aftershocks ended, Tony had gained a second child. “He’d curled up in my lap, and I was holding him. We didn’t… We weren’t even talking. I was just holding him.”

He swallowed, breath hitching. He met Pepper’s eyes, trying desperately to convey something that just wasn’t possible to capture in words. A loss, a fear, a weakening hope.

“Pep,” he whispered, hoarse and crackling, “Pep, I was holding him, but then I woke up and he wasn’t there.”

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize, or promise that they’d get him back.

She just reached out and took his hand.

It was just past 11:00 when Rhodey pushed into the bedroom.

For a split second, Tony assumed the worst. But then,

“We found him,” Rhodey breathed. Beside him, Pepper gasped, like she couldn’t believe it. “Happy got a lead and, well, it doesn’t really matter. But we’ve got him, Tones. Steve’s got him.”

The flight from New York to Calverton, Virginia took an hour. They left Morgan back at the cabin, with Clint’s wife. Tony half considered bringing her, but he didn’t know what shape Peter would be in, physically or mentally. And he… he didn’t want to frighten her, although he supposed that was a moot point after the last 48 hours.

When this was all over, Tony promised himself that he’d apologize to both his children, for lots of different things.

For now, he just wanted Peter. He wanted to hold him, like in his dream but real. He wanted a moment that he couldn’t wake up from.

He mostly ignored Rhodey’s explanation of how they’d tracked the kidnappers down. It was complicated and had something to do with a gas station and a random college kid who’d seen Peter’s picture on the news. Happenstance, really. They’d gotten lucky.

“Is he alright?” Pepper asked, and Tony was glad that someone rational was thinking of the important things. “Did they hurt him?”

“The medics think that he may have a clavicle fracture,” Rhodey said. Tony could feel his eyes on him even though he was staring at his feet. “His kidnappers set off some tear gas and stun grenades when the team went it, so he’s got some irritation and ringing in his ears. No sign of sexual assault, but he’s still pretty out of it. They’re running a tox screen to make sure we’re not in danger of any overdoses.”

Tony looked up. He flexed his hands out in front of him, wincing when his wrists popped. “Is he asking for me?”

“Yeah. Steve said that that’s pretty much the only thing he’s said, too. Asked where you were a couple times and checked out.”

Tony bit his lip. Peter had been drugged, beaten, surrounded by doctors he didn’t know and thrown right into the chaos of a crime scene, and yet he’d still looked up at strangers and asked for him.

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“The medics told him.” Rhodey reached across the seats and grabbed his elbow as they started to descend, engines whining. “Hey, look at me. You sure you’re good to do this?”

He blinked, barely even processing the words.

What kind of question is that?

“This,” he started, quiet enough that there was no way Rhodey would’ve heard him if they didn’t have headsets, “is my job.”

“If he sees you upset, it’s gonna make him even more upset.”

“He won’t see me upset.”

Rhodey groaned, and it kind of hurt that nobody seemed to believe he was capable of parenting his own goddamn kid, no matter what emotional state he was in. “Tony, you’re-”

“Very good at this,” he finished, cutting off whatever Rhodey actually meant to say. He imagined he wouldn’t’ve liked it much, anyway. “I’m very good at this.”

“I know you are, Tony, but this has been a rough-”

“He won’t know I’m upset,” he snarled, voice dangerous, and it felt so good to have a purpose. To have something to curl over and protect. “He won’t.”

Rhodey sighed, defeated. He didn’t look like he believed him, but Tony didn’t really care. “Alright. Just be careful, okay? Don’t go overboard.”

Overboard. Of course he was gonna go overboard. He was gonna go overboard with absolutely everything for the rest of Peter’s life.

He didn’t bother walking when the helicopter landed. He just bolted, weaving through police and paramedics and FBI agents and what felt like a thousand other pointless uniforms. Pepper and Rhodey both tailed him, not missing a beat.

Nobody had told him where Peter was, and it was pitch black outside, midnight having only recently come and gone. The only light came from the dozens of different emergency signals spread out across the field, blue and red and yellow and every other color of the rainbow, all blinking at their own dizzying frequencies. There was no logical way that he should’ve been able to find his kid in that chaos, and yet his feet just took him there, like they’d walked this path a million times, even though he wasn’t sure that he’d ever been within a hundred miles of Calverton before.

He saw the security before he saw his kid. There were about ten guards holding a perimeter around the solitary ambulance, and Tony made a mental note to give Happy a goddamn raise once this was all over.

And then there was Peter, and every single mental note he’d ever made evaporated into thin air.

He was slouched over on the back of the ambulance, orange shock blanket folded over his shoulders. He was bloody, bruised. There was dirt and ash all over his face, but none of that mattered at all because he was still the most beautiful, wonderful, breathtaking thing Tony had ever seen.

“Peter!” His voice broke with the force of the shout. “Peter!”

Despite everything, Peter recognized him right away. His head turned towards the sound, and his arms lifted up, fingers curling weakly in the air.

“Tony?”

“Here,” he gasped, skidding to a stop in front of the kid. “I’m right here, Pete. I’m right here.”

He grabbed Peter’s face between his hands, dragged the pads of his thumbs along the curve of his cheekbones, brushing away tear-smudged grime, and all his anguish evaporated. Gone. He knew it’d return, at some point, probably in the folds of night, far away from where anyone but Pepper could see it, but for now he was calm, capable. He felt in control, because that was the only thing he was allowed to be. Because that was exactly what Peter needed him to be.

He’d meant what he’d said to Rhodey. He was good at this.

“Hey there, buddy,” he whispered. He sniffed hard against the tears building in his throat, but he was grinning so wide that his cheeks ached. “You really got yourself into a mess this time, huh?”

“He’s been a little too close to unresponsive for our tastes,” one of the medics offered, and he glanced up to her. She had a sympathetic smile on her face, soft and kind, “but we were hoping that having dad here might help.”

He nodded, hoping that his expression conveyed the thanks he didn’t have the breath to voice, and turned his attention back to Peter. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, shifting Peter’s face a little, trying to get a reaction. “You with me, squirt?”

Peter looked dazed, pupils blown so wide that Tony could barely find any brown in his eyes at all, but there was recognition there, too. Drowsy and subdued, but recognition all the same.

“‘M with you,” he slurred, blinking hard. “I don’ feel very good.”

“I know, squirt. We’re gonna fix that, okay?”

Peter nodded, then slumped forward into his chest, nose digging into the crook of his neck. “‘M sorry. Didn’… Didn’ mean it.”

Tony had expected the apology, but it still felt like a slap in the face. “Shh, shh. None of this was your fault, kiddo.”

I’m sorry I didn’t do enough to protect you.

“‘M so glad you’re here,” Peter mumbled, and Tony wondered if he even knew that he was talking. “Kept asking for you. They said you w’re coming.”

Tony could feel each one of Peter’s breaths on his skin, warm and slow and relaxed. He’d heard about hostage victims being keyed-up on release, jumpy and paranoid, and just here his kid was: practically dozing off in his arms, murmuring apologies and sermons of faith, easy and relaxed just because Tony was here. Because Tony was holding him.

“Of course I was coming,” he managed to choke out. “I’ll always come for you, Pete. I’m always gonna come for you.”

“Mm. I know. Always got me.”

He’d never deserve this. Never. He could spend the rest of his life devoted to charity, to selflessness, and yet there would never come a day when he would deserve his children.

It should’ve been a disheartening thought, but it wasn’t. It was humbling. It made him feel grateful.

He found the gaze of the nurse who’d first spoken to him, fingers threading slowly through Peter’s hair. “Can I take him?”

“Of course,” she said. “But he’ll need x-rays to confirm that fracture, and fluids, and I wouldn’t let him go unmonitored until his tox screens start coming back clear. You have someone back at base who can do all that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then he’s all yours.”

He wrapped the shock blanket more firmly around Peter’s shoulders, dreaming of the moment he could tear it off, burn it, and replace it with one of the red fleece ones Pepper had brought back from a conference in Colorado at the end of Peter’s senior year. He couldn’t wait until they could finally peel off the layers of this night and replace them with new memories, with new things, with good, peaceful, mundane things.

“I’m gonna take you home now, Pete,” he whispered, fisting his hand desperately in the back of the kid’s shirt. “We’re gonna go home.”

Peter slept straight through the helicopter ride back to New York, legs stretched over Tony’s lap like a cat. He woke up just long enough for Tony to guide him to his bedroom (Tony had to coach him up the stairs like it was his first encounter with the concept), but he was out again as soon as he reached his bed. Cho and Bruce both assured him that there was nothing to be concerned about, that his body was just burning off the drugs, but it didn’t stop him from laying Peter against his chest and keeping a finger on his pulse.

Cho and Bruce must’ve sensed that he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his kid, because they rushed through the process of converting Peter’s bedroom into a makeshift hospital suite. Peter roused a little when Cho placed his IV, but only enough to make a mild noise of displeasure and bury himself more firmly into Tony’s arms. Otherwise, Peter seemed perfectly content to let Tony deal with the world for him.

That was fine. That was more than fine, actually. It was exactly what he’d been wanting to do for days.

Pepper wandered in and out of the room, spreading her time between them and Morgan. Bruce popped in to give him the tox screen results, but he left almost as soon as he came. He didn’t know what the rest of the team was doing, but he knew that Rhodey had stayed behind in Calverton, with Happy.

The longer he spent unwinding, the more he wished he’d asked better questions.

He didn’t have a clue what had actually happened to Peter, didn’t know if his kidnappers were captured or dead, or if they’d escaped. He didn’t know anything.

Steve knocked on the doorframe after a few hours of pointless wondering, shifting nervously on his feet. It was as if Tony had put an impassable barrier around Peter’s bed, the kind that no one could see but everyone could feel. Nobody was brave enough to touch it.

“You can come it,” he said, amused. “I don’t bite.”

Steve took two steps forward, then stopped, clearly having no intention of moving any farther. “I don’t mean to intrude-”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you need, Steve?”

“The press is clamoring for a statement,” Steve said, after a brief moment of hesitation, “preferably in person.”

Tony pushed some of Peter’s hair back from his forehead, forcing himself to ignore the tiny cuts and bruises littering the kid’s face. “Giving a statement would involve leaving this room.”

Steve just nodded. “I understand.” He gestured in Peter’s direction, stiff and unsure, like he was treading on ice. “How is he?”

Tony smiled. He really didn’t know why everyone seemed so determined to dance around the topic of Peter, especially now that he was home. It wasn’t a touchy subject, it was Tony’s favorite subject.

“He’s sleeping, safe and sound.”

“I’m glad.”

“They ran a tox screen,” he offered. “He’s got GBH and ecstasy and a couple other pretty nasty things in his system. Cho’s confident that the fluids should help him metabolize it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirmed that he’s got a small fracture in his collarbone, but his healing should take care of it pretty quickly once his body recalibrates.” He smiled, eyes never leaving Peter’s face. “He’ll be back to playing Mario Kart with Morgan in no time.”

“Good.” Steve walked around to his side of the bed, steps slow and measured. “Do you want me to give you the details of everything now, or later?”

“Give me the essentials. Are they dead?”

“Yeah.” Relief shot through him. “Clint got two with his arrows. The other one was sleeping when we came in. He tried to grab a weapon, but Nat got to him first. Sam found Peter locked in a closet in the back bedroom.”

The rage he felt at the detail conflicted with the tenderness that rose with every second he spent with his children. In the end, he set the anger aside. He didn’t need it, right now. It wouldn’t made Peter heal faster.

“You sure there were only three?”

“We’re looking into it, but we’re nearly positive.”

He dipped his head in Peter’s direction. “How was he when you found him?”

Darkness swooped over Steve’s face, and his voice went hard. “Not great.” A pause. “You think he’ll be alright?”

“Without a doubt,” he said, and he meant it. “He’s a tough kid, and he’s got a good therapist. Pretty sure there isn’t anything he can’t tackle and come out the winner.”

“And what about you?” Steve asked, as sincere as Tony had ever heard him. “Will you be alright?”

He smoothed his palm down Peter’s back, and thought back to his dream. He’d imagined the whole thing wrong, he realized. The joy he’d felt then hadn’t captured even a single fraction of the joy he was feeling now.

“Of course I’ll be alright,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

Natasha had never been in Peter’s room before. Then again, she’d very rarely been the cabin, either. Tony had gone out of his way to keep his family shielded from everyone, even the team.

After everything they’d been through, she had a hard time blaming him for that.

Tony and Peter were both asleep when she poked her head through the door. She guessed that it was probably the first time either of them had had any real rest in days. Even unconscious, Tony had placed himself between Peter and the door, arms wrapped tightly around the kid, as if someone was going to try to steal him when he wasn’t looking.

Bruce and Cho had turned the bedroom into a makeshift hospital room, monitors and an IV pole tucked up in a corner, but it didn’t change the cozy atmosphere. A few framed sci-fi posters littered the walls, but there were family pictures as well: everything from photobooth strips to professional portraits.

For a brief few seconds, she let herself wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up in a place that felt like a home.

Pepper ended up catching her attention before the thoughts could go too far. She was the only other person in the room, and, unlike Tony and Peter, she was actually awake. She beckoned for her to come in, posture as relaxed as Natasha had ever seen it.

“Hey,” Pepper greeted, voice just above a whisper. “Are you here for Tony?”

“I am.”

“Can it wait?”

Her eyes flickered up to the pair curled around each other on the bed, and she made her decision without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll make it wait.”

Pepper shot her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. How are they?”

Pepper leaned forward in her chair, and brushed the back of Peter’s hand gently. It was a mother’s touch, kind and adoring. She tried not to stare.

“Peter’s still pretty out of it, but he’s been talking to Tony, so that’s a step in the right direction. It might take a while for his metabolism to clear out all the shit they pumped into him, but his vitals are holding steady.”

“Did the tox screen come back?”

Pepper sighed. “It did. It’s a miracle Tony didn’t have an aneurism when Cho read it to us. They gave him GHB and ecstasy, among a few other things, but there’s nothing we can do about it except wait.”

That certainly wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. She hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d been prepping herself for the possibility that by the time they found the kid, they’d have already OD’d him.

She’d seen those kinds of bodies before, and they weren’t pretty. She wasn’t sure how Tony’s would’ve handled it.

Speaking of which…

“And how’s Tony?”

Pepper’s face softened even more at the mention of her husband. She reached out to adjust his shirt, tone warm. “His baby’s back, so all’s right with the world again. At least for now.” She let out an exhausted breath. “And after everything that’s happened, I’ll take for now.”

She wondered if Pepper had slept since Peter’s graduation. The more she analyzed the past few days, the more she came to the conclusion that she hadn’t.

“I doubt Peter’ll be allowed out of his sight for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Pepper snorted, a rare slip of her polish. Natasha guessed that she saw it more than the boys did. “Oh, Peter’s going to have Tony following him around for the next decade at least. It’ll be sweet for a while, because at first he’ll actually enjoy the coddling, but then both of them are going to make my life a living hell.”

Natasha just smiled. There wasn’t even a hint of genuine aggravation in Pepper’s voice: just relief. “You can’t wait, can you?”

Pepper’s face lit up. “God, Nat, I’ve never been more ecstatic over the thought of the two of them snipping at each other in my life.”

She laughed, careful not to disturb either of Pepper’s charges, then took a cautious step towards the door. As much as she enjoyed Pepper’s company, there were still a million things to be done. She’d handle the paperwork, and she’d let the parents handle the kid.

She wasn’t really qualified for the gushy stuff.

“I’ll let you spend some time with your family.”

“Actually, Nat, before you go…” Pepper paused, chewing on the words, “just, well, thank you. People are never able to forget that Peter’s Tony’s child, but they tend to overlook that he’s mine now, too. He’s been mine for nearly six years. And I know that I’ll never love him like Tony does, but… but I still love him, and I’m still grateful.”

“I’m just doing my job,” she said, smile tight.

“It’s a good job, Nat.”

She backed the rest of the way into the hall. “Yeah, it is.”

The door clicked shut, and she just barely inclined her head to the security guard that was stationed outside of it. They’d be a common presence around here, for a while, at least until Stark re-found that tenuous balance between keeping his kids safe and letting them live.

She’d been worried about Peter, before. If there was anyone in the world who understood trauma, understood what it could do to your soul, it was Natasha Romanoff, but she knew now that Peter Parker had something that she’d never had.

He had people who gave a shit. People who’d make sure that he was fine.

She wondered if he knew how lucky he had it.

#wooo it's a monster #me: my irondadbingo is going to be short little ficlets!#also me: *writes 11k words*#help #irondad #irondadbingo #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #losingmymindtonight writes

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disruptedvice · 6 years ago

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2019 writing meme

i was tagged by @startofamoment, no doubt because I’ve been talking up that b99 porn star au that I started writing in 2016 but never completed.

It looks like how this meme goes is two lists: Things I am definitely going to write (or things I am definitely most likely going to write from startofamoment’s post) Things I’d like to write, time (and creativity) permitting

But I’m gonna do mine a little different, cause the thing is, I’ve already started writing drafts for literally all of these, like years ago in some cases, so- I mean, I’ve already started writing every single one of these, and have 4+ pages on some, 16+ pages on others, and there’s no telling what year they’ll actually be posted, but here’s some things from my technically wip stuff

Basically, works that I’ve already started the process of writing but who knows when they’ll be completed and just damn, I’ve got so much

The starmora/thorkyrie one shot where Valkyrie reacts to meeting and finding out who Gamora was the way that everyone expected Thor to react to Gamora in IW (confrontational AF- cue Valkyrie harshly whispering “How can you trust them?” and Thor just deadpanning “You literally sold me into slavery when we first met”)

Starmora college AU + artist!Peter and kickboxer!Gamora

Peraltiago Contract killer!Amy and target!Jake AU

Peraltiago Conceptual photographer!Jake + Model!Amy (also, former Art Student!Amy)

Childhood friends starmora AU/both raised by ravagers

Post IW/Post Endgame thorkyrie reunion one shot

Flight attendent!Jake Peralta + hates flying passenger!Amy Santiago

Pornstar peraltiago AU + coworkers to friends to lovers trope

The married peraltiago pregnancy multichapter fic I’ve been planning for AGES

Peraltiago Actors AU (Jake and Amy are actors on a TV show called Brooklyn Legal)

More and previews/excerpts under the cut ~

(And because tumblr mobile is going wonky, if this post looks weird, you can just open this post in your phone’s browser and tada! It’s in a readable format and looks like how I actually posted it!)

Dude, so I’ve got some previews for some of these, but I literally just copied and pasted without editing the slightest, so you can see while I may have pages and pages written out for all these stories on microsoft word/google docs, they are still very clearly not ready to post

That multichapter peraltiago pregnancy fic that I’ve had planned since, oh, FOREVER and still haven’t gotten around to-

“I just realized I'm gonna have to stop making sex tape jokes and switch over to dad jokes.” ”Jake, you already make way too many puns to be healthy and tell soul crushingly lame jokes all the time. You already make dad jokes, but they were just called lame jokes before you had a kid. Now your lame jokes can be called dad jokes. But you always had them.”

[In baby fic Jake still tackles her and pulls her to the ground, but its a careful tackle and he always makes sure to catch her and break her fall. It's kinda amazing how quick he does it, how they'll be chasing each other and he'll pull her to the ground, pull her into him. It's almost strange, how quick and gentle he is with it. With her. At first she might have worried about his rough housing, but he was always delicate. Careful but still fun. And she never had to worry about losing her balance with him]

Jake tackles her and she's laughing and hitting him on the arm and saying ”The baby, the baby!” And he pulls back and says “You know, you can't keep using that excuse. It's not fair.” And Amy says “I've still got months and months of that excuse” and he says ”It’s like saying you have to pee during a tickle fight. Now I have to let you go.”

{When Jake says excuse not fair cause its like saying she has to pee during a tickle fight and she thinks that's a fair excuse too not just baby, Amy asks jokingly "do you want me to pee on you?" And he says "you don't know. I might be into that."}.

Contract killer!Amy and target!Jake AU-

where they used to be childhood friends but hadn’t seen each other since they were like 9 years old, and then Amy realizes she recognizes the person she was just hired to kill

She's been struggling with this dilemma in her head for the past few days and even though it's completely irrational she decides not to do it. She decides to help him. She decides to help keep him alive. She actually did a coin toss. Heads she goes through with it and shoots him, tails she helps him. She flipped the coin. It landed on heads. And that cemented her decision.

She was going to help him.

She breaks into his apartment that evening since she learned he would be out.

She wears gloves. Looks through any papers he had, trying to find financials, but there's nothing to suggest why someone wanted him dead.

She wouldn't be much use keeping him alive if she didn't know why someone wanted him dead in the first place. And all the wire transfers for who hired her were anonymous. She turns on his computer and it isn't even password protected. It was a desktop and not a laptop, but still.

He must be the most naive and trusting idiot in the world.

She looks through the files on his computer and nothing useful turns up. He's so normal it's pissing her off.

She looks through his emails and there isn't even a hint of one lousy affair.

And she doesn't feel an ounce of guilt invading his privacy because it was a whole lot nicer than killing him.

She deserved a thank you.

But she can't find anything on why anyone would want him dead.

His plans were dinner with friends or something and it's been an hour at this point and she knows he could walk through the door at any moment and catch her.

Catch her having broken into his apartment. And she still had nothing.

And she decided to fuck it and just ask him. Just sit down on the couch in his living room and ask him who would want to kill him when he gets home.

This whole operation was already fucked, why not fuck it up some more? ___

she hears him unlock and open the door when he gets home. She hears him enter, shut the door, lock it behind him.

He walks down the hallway, finally to his living room and sees her.

He just stares at her and she says "c'mon dude, why the hell is it so hard to find out who wants you dead?"

And Jake blinks a couple seconds and then he says "uh, are you okay? Do you need help or something? Do you know where you are?" He asks like she may have accidentally gotten into his locked apartment cause she had a concussion and didn't know who the hell she was.

And she says "seriously? Seriously, man? I broke into your apartment and you ask me if I'm /okay/?" She sounds frustrated.

And he says "I think that's a fair assumption unless you were the worst robber in the history of ever. I walk in and there's a stranger sitting on my couch. Not stealing my couch, sitting on my couch. Correct me if I'm wrong but professional robbers are A: supposed to take stuff and B: supposed to be gone by the time the home owner comes back. So an empty handed stranger sitting on my couch who just starts talking to me like it ain't no thang instead of trying to flee the first thing my mind jumped to was not a criminal mastermind. Though that actually might be a smart plan after all. If you would've gotten a bowl of cereal and kicked back with the TV on the only logical assumption would be that you just walked out of a hospital ward and and the homeowner would probably call an ambulance to take the obviously confused and concussed woman back to the hospital and you could just walk out the door with all their valuables while they're making that call. That would actually be a great plan."

And Amy's like "don't give me tips on how to rob you better! What the hell is wrong with you?"

And Jake says "but you're not actually robbing me, are you? Cause you're doing a pretty piss poor job of it. Since you're not actually stealing anything can tell me what the hell you are doing here?"

Pornstar peraltiago AU + coworkers to friends to lovers trope

After the confessing feelings for each other part and kissing the heck out of each other:

“Okay, this is really nice and I'm loving it, but I also wanna be with you, not whoever we're supposed to be at work. I want to be touched by Jake Peralta, you know?” Her voice tiltered out, almost wincing, but she was sure he got what she meant. “Fuck, that's all I've ever wanted. Amy Santiago. Who I watch movies with and laugh and who falls asleep on my couch and I have to resist kissing her on the forehead every time.”

Brooklyn Legal - Peraltiago TV show actors AU

Eliza was essentially the let loose wild card character in their cast ensemble, something that could not be more opposite of the actor playing the character, Amy Santiago. Jake's character was in the main cast too, Lucas, who was the awkward book type, preferring hard cover law books when he had to research any preferences for cases instead of just using a computer. Jake and Amy still end up falling for each other.

Starmora college AU + artist!Peter and kickboxer!Gamora

“Your drawings. They’re not bad,” she said simply. “And either you messed up on this one here, or that man was not showing proper form,” she pointed out, down at one of his figure drawings of a man kicking the open air.

“Would you like me to show you how it’s actually done?” Gamora offered with an air of disinterested professionalism, though he’s certain he can see a smirk that’s just begging to be brought out from her lips.

He stared at her, blinking like an idiot. Then he started nodding, still like an idiot.

She gave him a single, curt nod in return before heading back to the mat she was practicing on, this time with a specific move in mind.

Gamora moved into position, breathed out, and let it overtake her.

"Would you like me to show you how it's actually done?" She offers with an air of disinterested professionalism, though he's certain he can see a smirk that's just begging to be brought out from her lips. Peter blinks once, twice. Like an idiot. Then he starts nodding, still like an idiot. Gamora nods at him once before walking away, walking back towards the mat, positioning herself right where she was practicing before. This time, though, with a specific movement in mind, putting on a show. She goes through her practice arsenal of moves, throwing in that one basically two or three moves, since his goal was to capture figures in motion, not figures in a pose. She kinda loses herself in the routine, and what he probably expected to be a 30 second demonstration turns into 5 minutes of her exercising and moving fluidly through her practice until she's breathing heavy and broken out into a sweat. When she decides to pause and take a break, she looks back over to her new friend/acquaintance, who is furiously scribbling in his sketchbook. Well, that's not quite true. His pencil is gliding across the page in a swift and fluid fashion, much like her movements were earlier. They're both getting their practice in of the art forms they've done a thousand times before, moving through the motions.

Conceptual photographer!Jake + Model!Amy (also, former Art Student!Amy)

When they're about to get started Amy says “I - I like your works.”

And he gives her a soft and polite smile with a “Thanks.”

And she realizes that everyone probably tells him that. Everyday. And they're probably all lying. And if they're not it was probably because they looked them up the night before and memorized all the facts so they could impress him.

That's why she got the polite smile. Because he hears that lie a million times a day by people trying to be polite or something.

And she recants immediately “No I don't. That was a total lie. I didn't even know your name until two weeks ago.” And she's totally flabbergasted but his smile is genuine now instead of polite and she doesn't know what to say or where she's going, but he has a really good smile and she just wants to keep talking so he'll keep smiling. “I like a work of yours. It was the only one I'd seen, and I didn't even know it was yours until two weeks ago when I looked you up and I saw it and I saw you made it, but I just recognized it by sight cause when I heard your name I didn't think I knew anything you ever did, but I was scrolling through it all and I realized that I'd seen it before. And I really liked it, I just didn't know who made it. I mean it's in a museum by my house and your name is on the plaque but all the times I looked at it I never even bothered to read the plaque. Not because I didn't like it, I just never read the plaques in art museums even on the stuff I really love. So I don't like you works or even really know any of them. I just really like the one.”

Childhood friends starmora AU

Later that night, after the eclector had left port, Gamora and Peter were sitting in Peter’s room, just talking.

“How come you didn’t tell me you could fix ships?” He asked, thinking that would have been something good for him to know to convince Yondu to let them take her aboard.

“I don’t,” Gamora said simply. At the confused look he gave her, she grinned something mischievous, like they were partners in crime. “I lied,” she admitted, laughing into her hand.

Peter in turn laughed that much harder.

“But I am a quick learner!” Gamora added quickly. She was pretty sure she could trust Peter, but she had still only met him today, and she had lied to his- captain? From the insolence he spoke to Yondu with, he seemed more like his father. Not in the way that Thanos insisted on calling himself Gamora’s father, but his actual father. She had come up with the lie spur of the moment, because her situation was urgent, and she needed to get off the planet as soon as possible. Anything was better than her siblings finding her and taking her back. Any repercussions from that fib paled to what would be in store if she was brought back to Sanctuary. “I’m good at memorizing stuff, so I can learn how to fix engines if the mechanic on board shows me how. I meant that, about earning my keep. I can be a- a apprentice or something. It wasn’t a total lie.”

“You’re not gonna tell him, are you?” She asked worriedly.

“What? No! I’m not a tattle tale!” Peter told her immediately, and even though she didn’t know what a tattle tale was, she could figure out what it meant from context clues. “He’ll probably figure it out on his own, though. But that’s okay-” he added quickly, when he saw the look of genuine fear in Gamora’s eyes. “Yondu says he values ‘ngenuity ‘‘n stuff. That just means if you manage to pull one over on him he’ll prolly laugh and give you a pat on the back and maybe a smack on the head for being a smart ass, but that’s it. I wouldn’t be here right now if Yondu wasn’t impressed by the few times I’ve managed to actually trick him. I mean- many times. I’ve tricked him oh so many times. Lots.”

Gamora laughed at that, because Peter was such a horrible liar. She didn’t think that was such a bad thing. No, it wasn’t bad at all.

Then flashforward like eight or so years and of Peter and Gamora fall in love because of course they do. So it’s really more of a raised by ravagers falling in love with your best friend starmora AU with a childhood friends prologue (plus some good ol fashion Peter whump with him almost dying on a solo mission they undertake cause yessss)

Post IW/post endgame Thor/Valkyrie reunion fic

“Hey! It’s me! It’s really me! I swear!” Thor held his hands up in a defensive posture, but that only seemed to anger her more.

“I know it’s you! That’s why I’m hitting you!”

She took another swing at him that he easily blocked- either she was too sleep deprived to at least hit him well, or she wasn’t trying as much as she wanted to seem.

They’d sparred before, and this definitely wasn’t even close to the full force of the Valkyrie. Still enough to hurt, though. Her movements were sloppy in a way she’d scolded him for when they had trained together following Ragnarok (“You’re too open, your majesty,” she informed him, with her trademark mocking tone at his title. Thor didn’t really mind. The teasing tone. He definitely minded the kick to the ribs he just got- it felt like they’d been punted into him. “When you swing, you swing wildly, and you make so much of yourself a target. You need to keep your hands up, when you punch, pull back, keep your shoulders tucked. It’s like you’re expecting your opponents not to hit back. Sure, you’re fine if you knock them out on the first punch, anything other than that, your technique leaves you wide open and your ribs prime for kicking,” she informed him, smirking while he was still struggling to breathe evenly again.)

It was the same too open critique she’d criticized him for months ago, the one that she said was fighting like he was expecting his opponents not to hit back. Her swings left her wide open, now.

Though, if she knew it was him, then she also knew he wouldn’t hit back. So maybe the too open fighting made sense right now.

“Aren’t you glad I’m alive?” He asked, blocking an elbow strike and deflecting the punch that followed. He caught her wrist, wrapped his hand around it before she could pull it back (“You’re too open”)

“Of course I’m glad you’re alive,” she growled, sounding much more mad than glad.

Starmora AU where they live in a seaside town and go to college together, and have a competitive rivalry going on as captains of the swimteam, then one day Gamora’s out on the ocean and a storm comes rolling in and she’s tossed overboard, only to be rescued from crashing waves by mermaid!Peter - like seriously, what the hell? This idiot that she’s known for years has a motherfucking mermaid tail???

Oh, and there’s a Sentinel/Guide AU with sentinel!Gamora and Guide!Peter

Plus, some lovely Elspeth Quill prompts that make my heart glow

Also, the B99/Peraltiago Daemon AU where Jake’s daemon is a badger named Jeremiah, and everyone’s like, how did the most cuddly person of a human being get something as scary and confrontational as an American Badger? They took on bears and wolves! On purpose!

Almost forgot about the multichapter Peraltiago space ark AU- it’s technically a series of one shots in the same universe, and a song fic, based on a concept album (so there’s 11 chapters, since the album has 11 songs in it) - I have the first chapter of this completely done, but nothing close to the other 10, and I feel bad about having so many multichapters open at the same time and updating them so slowly (hence why all this crap is in my unposted junk), but I might post chapter one of this soon just as a little ‘screw you (I say to myself and sense of obligation/anxiety), I’m having fun writing this, that’s the only mandatory thing about fic writing, if I’m enjoying myself and taking forever, that’s something to rejoice in, not feel bad about

So yeah, goodness knows when all this shit will be out. I think the closest things I have to done are the Peraltiago space ark ch 1 AU and the Thorkyrie reunion fic

Ima tag @peraltiagoisland, @nymphrea, @star-munches, @marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches, @thingssunspokenorotherwise, @interabangs, @perilinpeace @elsaclack

Please don’t feel obligated to participate if I tagged you, and if you’re looking for an example for the way you’re actually supposed to do this ask meme and not my weird way, startofamoment’s post here is good

(cough cough elsaclack i almost didn’t tag you cause i didn’t want you to be pressured cause i know how that be sometimes, but i love u, and your writing, and also wanted to wave some of my peraltiago stuff that i’m exctied about in your face and be like ‘look what I made!’/’haven’t made yet’)

But really, same goes for everyone here, you’re tagged because ily and i love your stuff, and don’t feel obligated to participate, don’t do this if it’ll stress you out/make you feel pressured in the long run, only do it if it sounds fun cause you’re all so freakin’ great and i want you to have fun

#b99 #gotg #thorkyrie #peraltiago #starmora #fanfic #MCU fanfiction #AU #writing meme #thor x valkyrie #my fic #ask meme

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crashdevlin · 6 years ago

Text

Marion- 11: Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now

Marion Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version). This started as an excuse to write some Castiel/OFC loving, but it blossomed into an epic-length fic and even an AU where Marion was with them the whole time.

Summary: Marion doesn’t like how Cas is acting and she’s preparing for the letdown Chuck warned her about.

Pairing(s): Castiel/Marion

Word Count: 3403

Chapter Warnings: Other side of Frontierland, Cas being a shitty boyfriend, angsty-angst-angst

Marion sat at Bobby’s kitchen table. She stared down at the locket she’d found in her pocket when she returned to the present time. It had to be from Castiel, some sort of apology for the fact that she’d barely been able to speak to him lately. It’d been months, actually. She’d gotten more conversation from his doppleganger in that other universe than she’d gotten from her beau. Misha had been very talkative. She’d been sad to see him die. Dean and Sam didn’t seem as affected by it. She listened to her twin cursing the amount of ash Colt had sent them as she tried once again to pry the locket open. There didn’t seem to be any glue holding it closed but she couldn’t get it open, no matter how hard she tried. As she heard Bobby’s front door open, she put the necklace in her pocket. She couldn’t feel bad for her failed relationship, right now. She smiled curtly and nodded slightly at Sam and Bobby as they headed for the basement where Dean was working.

“Hey.” Sam started. “How you doing?”

“Five shells.” Dean growled. “That’s how I’m doing.”

Sam sighed. “Well, you know, it’s a hell of a lot more than what we had last week.”

“Maybe.” Dean said, as Marion walked up.

“Meaning?” She asked.

“Meaning… I just had myself a little mishap a few minutes ago, and… uh, well, here, look.” Dean said, grabbing some of the ash and rubbing it on his arm. Nothing happens.

“Whoa.” Sam whispered.

“I mean, this stuff is supposed to burn the bejeezus out of Eve, doesn’t even give me a sunburn.”

“Lore says it works.” Bobby responded.

“That’s always reliable.” Dean said, cynically.

“Maybe that’s not how it works. You are human.” Marion chimed in.

“Yeah, you know what? Maybe it’s like, uh- maybe it’s like iron or silver. You know? Hurts them, not us.”

“Maybe, but a fat lot of good it does us ‘til we find the bitch.”

“I’m lookin’, but I’m thinkin’ maybe it’s time you made a call.” Bobby said, looking pointedly at Dean.

“Why me? He’s not my-”

Marion shook her head and started back up the stairs. She was exhausted on calling out to Castiel and him not answering her. She wasn’t sure she could take it again.

Dean turned back to the guys, knowing not to push it any further with his sister. “Why has it always got to be me that makes the call, huh? It’s not like Cas lives in my ass. The dude’s busy.”

Marion stopped at the top of the stairs as she heard the telltale sound of wings. She debated whether or not to turn back around for a minute, before settling to sit on the top step and look down on the scene.

Dean quickly moved away and spun around. “Cas, get out of my ass!”

“I was never in your-” Castiel started, but gave a confused look as he stopped. “Have you made any progress in locating Eve?”

“Well, we were gonna ask you about that.” Bobby said.

“No. I’ve looked, but she’s hidden from me. She’s hidden from all angels.” Castiel answered, casting a quick glance up to Marion.

“Awesome.”

“You know, what we really need is an inside man.” Sam said.

“What do you mean?”

“Something with claws and sympathy.”

“Like a friendly monster?” Dean asked. Sam shrugged. “Those are in short supply these days, don’t you think?”

“Sure, but we’ve met one or two, right?” Sam said.

“Maybe.” Dean responded sourly.

“So we can find one.”

“Anybody you can think of, somebody still alive?” Bobby asked.

A moment of silence passes as Sam and Dean rack their minds for allies who hadn’t been killed in the Apocalypse or the lead-up to the Apocalypse. Marion cleared her throat and stood from her spot at the top of the stairs. She stepped down 3 steps and avoided Castiel’s gaze as she leaned over the railing to look at her brothers. “Lenore. You need to find Lenore.”

“Vampire Lenore. Thank God you’ve got my memories, cause I forgot about her.” Dean said, before turning to Cas. “Lenore. She’s a vegetarian vampire. You find her, we might have a lead.”

Castiel nodded and disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion sat upstairs in the kitchen by herself. She was staring down at the locket again. It reminded her of the other gifts he’d left behind without a word. They used to make her happy. They had been proof of his love. But now she felt like they were just things, things he threw her way so she wouldn’t get in his way.

“Marion!” She heard Dean call from the basement.

She pushed the locket deep into her pocket and stood. When she gets to the basement, she sees Lenore dead and knows that Castiel killed her.

“Grants Pass, Oregon.” Bobby said.

“And Lenore?” She asked.

Dean and Sam both gave a quick glance at Castiel, but then looked away. “She asked to be killed, so that she wouldn’t kill anymore. I acquiesced.” Castiel responded.

Marion nodded. “I’m ready when you boys are.”

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion sat in a chair pulled up to the booth in the diner, a plate of fries in front of her that she had taken to playing with instead of eating.

“Alright. I finally got the police database, no thanks to this.” Bobby said, gesturing to the iPad in his hands. “I asked for a computer.”

“It is a computer.” Sam defended.

“No, a computer has buttons.” Bobby responded, as the waitress walked up.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, we’re good. Thanks.” Dean dismissed her.

“Anything?” Sam asked.

“Oh, nickel and dime stuff, nothing weird. Basically, a dead end. You think Vampira was lying?” Bobby asked.

“I’ll search the town. Give me a moment.” Castiel volunteered.

Everyone around the table looked at Castiel, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

“Cas, we can still see you.” Dean piped up.

Castiel looked around, confused. “Yeah. I’m still here.”

“Okay, well you don’t have to wait on us, you-” Dean said, trying to understand what was going on. Castiel cleared his throat and seemed to strain to fly. “Well, now it just looks like you’re pooping.”

“Something’s wrong.” Castiel said, plainly.

“What, are you stuck?” Marion asked.

“I’m blocked. I’m powerless.”

“You’re joking?” Dean asked incredulously.

“Something in this town is, uh, it’s affecting me. I assume it’s Eve.”

Marion rolled her eyes. *Of course it’s Eve.*

“So, wait, Mom’s making you limp?” Dean asked.

“Figuratively, yes.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but she is.”

“Well, that’s great, because without your power, you’re basically just a baby in a trench coat.” Dean snapped.

Marion would have felt offended for her boyfriend if it weren’t so true.

“I think you hurt his feelings.” Sam said.

Bobby cleared his throat to get their attention back. “I got something here, maybe. Had to go federal to get it. Call went out from the local office to the CDC last night.”

“About what?” Sam asked.

“A Dr. Silver called in an illness he couldn’t identify. Patient’s a 25 year old, African-American, name- Ed Bright.”

“Well, that’s not much to go on.”

“Well, its our only lead, so-”

Dean interrupted Bobby’s thought with a nod. “So beggars can’t be choosers, right? I get it. Alright, let’s finish up.”

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion stood at the doorway of the frat house. Dean and Castiel had insisted that she not go into the infection zone, but she couldn’t stand out there next to a powerless Castiel, knowing that if he could disappear, he would. Marion was in the perfect position, though, to hear everything her brothers were saying.

“Hey, Ed. Ed, what’s going on?” Dean asked.

“Uh, nothing. You’re ok. You’re okay, alright? We’re gonna get you help.” Sam responded.

“What? No, no. No, no, no, no, no, of course not. You, uh, you have a fever. You’re hallucinating.”

“Marshall, Marshall. Hey, what happened here?” Sam pushed. “No, you’re not gonna die, okay? Now you need to talk to us. It’s important.”

“And before you got sick, before Ed got sick, did you do anything? Did you go anywhere? Hey, I need you to focus for me.” Sam asked. “A bar? What bar? 8th street, um, did anything happen at the bar? Did you- did you see anything? Did you meet anyone? Look, an ambulance is on the way, okay?”

“A girl? Okay, and?” Dean urged. Marion could hear the desperation in her brother’s voice and knew the boy was on the edge. “Good, okay. What did the girl in white do? Marshall? Wh-wh-what did she do to Ed? Marshall?”

Marion genuflected for the poor dead boy as her brothers walked over to join her. “I don’t get it. What, a bunch of regular Joes wake up shifters? What the hell?”

“Shifters usually run in families. This looks like an infection. Nobody touched nothing?” Bobby seemed to direct the question to Marion.

“Didn’t even go in.” She mumbled.

“Well, I am bathing in Purell tonight.” Dean said.

“So, he said they met a girl.” Sam informed the others.

“It’s gotta be Eve.”

“But why would she do this?” Castiel questioned.

“Mommy monster- make more.”

“No, no, no, no. Cas has got a good point. I mean if she’s gonna make a shifter army, why make one that’s sick, gooey and dying?” Dean asked.

Bobby shrugged. “Add that to the pile of Crap That Don’t Make Sense.”

“So should we hit the bar?” Marion asked.

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion looked around the bar. She was a bit disgusted by the amount of dead people-monsters.

“Well, the sheriff’s a mook, but still.” Bobby started to say as he walked around the bar.

“You’d think he’d notice this many missing people.” Marion agreed.

“We got a vamp over here. Nope. Scratch that. We got a wraith. What the hell? What has teeth and a spike?” Dean asked.

“Nothing.” Marion said.

“Never seen that in my life.” Bobby confirmed.

“Oh, great. So Eve’s making hybrids now?” Dean asked.

“Looks like.”

“Yeah, the question is why. I mean what does she want with the… what do you call these?” Dean asked.

“Well, congrats.” Bobby droned. “You discovered it. You get to name it.”

Marion rolled her eyes, knowing a rock reference was coming. Dean looked around, before matter-of-factly saying, “Jefferson Starships.”

“Oh, god.”

“Huh, because they’re horrible- and hard to kill.” Dean finished, looking very proud of himself.

“I like Starship.” Marion muttered, leaning down close to the wood floor to examine a dead Starship.

“You would.” Dean quipped.

Sam chose to ignore it and move on. “Looks like the whole bar has been turned into these-”

“Jefferson Starships.” Dean interjected.

“Fine. But why are all the… Starships dead?” Sam finished.

“Can’t say, but looks like they all burned up.” Bobby said, examining the monsters.

“Burned up, like?” Dean asked.

“Like a high fever, like the flu.” Marion answered.

“What the hell’s going on here? Does every monster in this town have the damn motaba virus?” Dean asked as the sheriff and two deputies showed up at the door to the bar.

“Hands where I can see ‘em!” The sheriff yelled.

Marion dropped completely to the floor, hoping they wouldn’t notice her in the sea of bodies.

“Now this is not what it looks like.” Castiel said.

“Look, we’re the Feds.” Bobby insured.

“Yeah? Well, Feds are not allowed to do this. Cuff ‘em. Turn around.” Marion watched from the ground as Castiel, Bobby, and Sam were led out the door. She was ecstatic that she hadn’t seen Dean’s boots walking out the door. Once she was sure the locals were gone, she stood up, careful not to touch any of the Starships. She looked over to the bar and breathed a heavy sigh. Dean was standing up from behind the bar.

“When did you get smart enough to hide in bad situations?” Marion quipped. “Come on, we gotta follow ‘em.”

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion watched from the doorway as Bobby questioned the sheriff, slashing him with a silver knife. Castiel stood off from the side, just staring. He seemed cold, upset and not just at the situation with Eve or the fact that he was powerless. She didn’t know how to approach it. She knew that she should talk to him. He was her boyfriend, after all, even if he wasn’t a very attentive one.

“Got a couple of hungry human boys here.” Dean said, leading two boys in from the cells. “C’mon guys.”

“So, you two never heard ‘em talk… about a mother, or someone named Eve?” Sam asked.

Marion looked at the group. The two sets of brothers. Something… wasn’t quite right. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was wrong.

The older boy shook his head. “It was just me and Ryan in there.”

“And your folks?” Dean asked, knowing the answer.

“Cops said we were next. He said we were food.”

“You have any other family?”

“An uncle, in Merritt.”

“Merritt, what’s that, like 15 miles outside of town? Okay. We’ll get you there.” Dean promised.

“Dean, can I have a word?” Castiel’s gravel voice prompted Dean to get up and walk away. Marion kept her eyes on the boys, but focused in on the angel’s words to her brother.

“We need to find Eve now.”

“Yeah. Go. Me and Sam just need to make a milk run.”

“We need your help here.” Castiel insisted.

“Hold your water. We’ll be back in a few.”

“Dean. Dean. Millions of lives are at stake, not just two. Stay focused.” Marion cringed a bit at the reaction she knew was coming because of the angel’s words.

“Are you kidding?”

“There’s a greater purpose here.”

“You know what, I-I’m getting a little sick and tired of the greater purpose, okay? I think what I’d like to do now is save a couple kids. If you don’t mind. We’ll catch up. Okay, guys, let’s go. C’mon.” Dean said, walking out the door.

“Damn it!” Marion cursed under her breath before rushing out the door and behind them. She grabbed Dean as he was getting in the driver’s seat and pulled him back out.

Ignoring that her twin looked ready to punch her, she shut the car door and whispered, “Something isn’t right, Dean. These kids shouldn’t have been here. These creatures, the Starships, have you seen any of the others saving food? No, they feed, they worship Eve and then they die. Why would they keep these boys for later?”

Dean shook his head and rested his hand on the door handle to show he was leaving as soon as he was done speaking. “Look, I’m gonna brush this off as you trying to agree with your boyfriend. We tested them. They’re human. You wanna stay here with Bobby and Cas, fine, but Sam and me, we’re takin’ them to their uncle’s place. We’re getting them out of this town. Now.”

Marion stepped back from the car, conceding defeat. “You go right ahead and ignore us, Dean. Ignore your twin sister and the only friend you’ve ever fucking had. Glad I’m not the only one you do that to.”

She didn’t look back as the door slammed and the tires squealed, but she turned when she got to the station door, just in time to see the taillights disappear over a hill. She looked up, wishing she hadn’t burned ties with Chuck, wishing she could call on God to tell her how this one ended. And for a few minutes, she considered taking a nap in the middle of this war zone, just to get a little reassurance from Lucifer. Lucifer, who was old enough to have probably met Eve before.

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

Marion walked inside about 20 minutes later, still sort of wanting a nap. As she walked past the sheriff’s office, she heard Castiel speaking in a hushed voice.

“I can’t go myself because Eve has… clipped my wings, so to speak. I would have to walk outside the area of her influence in order to fly there and take care of them. It would take far too long and Marion would notice my absence, even if Bobby did not. You must do this… I am certain… Even if they were not Children of Eve, you should have no qualms about killing them… I wouldn’t have asked you if I were not okay with the possible consequence… I will contact you after.”

Marion wasn’t sure what she had just heard but she knew it was something she wasn’t supposed to hear. “Hey. Who was that?” She asked, pretending she hadn’t heard anything.

Castiel put the phone back in his coat and walked out of the room. “It was Dean. They’ve left the boys in Merritt and will be on their way soon.”

Marion tilted her head a bit and followed him with her eyes as he walked toward the interrogation room. Castiel had just lied to her. No confusion, no misunderstanding, just a flat-out lie. She hadn’t even thought Castiel knew how to lie. “Oh. Okay.” was all she managed.

A few minutes later, Bobby was handing Marion a drink as Castiel came out of the interrogation room with his hands covered in blood. This wasn’t right. His actions were wrong. He was more distant, even darker than normal and that was bad.

“Eve’s at 25 Buckley Street. You can call Sam and Dean.” Castiel said, before walking off toward the restroom.

Bobby gave a pointed look to Marion, who tried to not show her discomfort. “How should I know, Bobby? The guy barely talks to me, anymore. We haven’t even kissed since right after Balthazar sent us to Bizarro-land. I have no idea what’s going on in his head, anymore.”

Marion pulled the locket out of her pocket and showed it to Bobby. “The only way I know we are still in a relationship, at all, is these little gifts he leaves for me. I’ve got a box full of them now.”

“Way he acts toward you, you sure he’s the one leavin’ ‘em?” Bobby asked, pulling out his phone to call Sam.

Marion stared at the drink in her hand and fought the uneasy feeling rising up in her stomach. “I need a nap.” she told herself.

~~~~~~~~~~##########~~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~~**********

They walked up to the diner they’d eaten at earlier.

“You gotta be kidding me. She’s been in there the whole time?” Dean griped.

“Why’d she ever let us in?” Sam asked.

“Or out?” Marion added.

“Well, there’s one way to find out.”

“What, just stroll in? We don’t know who human or who’s her.” Bobby said.

“Well, there’s one way to draw her out. Me and Sam will go in.”

“Dean.” Bobby started.

“Look. If we don’t get a shot off, you three better.” Dean said.

“I’m going with you, Dean.” Marion said, pulling her brother’s arm toward her. “We both know that there is no ash in my shell. I’d rather be in there if shit goes down, then out here useless.” She whispered.

Dean nodded. “Didn’t mean for you to get that one.” He whispered back, walking forward.

She followed her brothers and sat down at the bar next to Sam. “Now what?” She and Dean asked in unison.

Sam pulled out his phone and used the camera to look around the diner for eye-flash. “Crap. Crap, crap.” He whispered.

“Starships?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there anybody in this diner that is not a flesh-eating monster?” Dean asked.

“Uh, me and Marion and you.”

“Okay, well, let’s get the hell out of here.” Dean said.

“Shall we?” Sam offered to Marion.

“Three specials, right?” The waitress asks, putting two plates down and then grabbing a third from behind her.

“Uh, no, that’s not for us. We were just headed out.” Sam said.

“Now that would be rude, Sam.” The waitress said, squaring off in front of them.

The siblings looked up at the woman for the first time. Her brunette hair was loose but pulled back. She seemed like a nice young woman. Except the coldness. Sam looked at both of his siblings before readjusting himself on the stool. “Let me guess. Eve.”

“Pleasure.” She said, curtly.

“Why don’t we step outside. Chat?” Dean asked.

“Why? This is private.” Eve said. She looked up and the Starships around the diner close the blinds. One of the monsters grabbed Dean’s bag and opened it, revealing the shotguns. Eve reached into the bag and grabbed Dean’s gun, she sniffed the end. “Phoenix ash. I’m impressed. I bet you had to go a long way for that.”

“You have no idea.” Dean mumbled. Sam scoffed.

Eve handed the bag off to a Starship. “Destroy these. Thank you.” She smiled curtly at the Winchesters. “Relax. I’m not here to fight.”

“No? Just to rally every freak on the planet, bring in Khan Worms and-and half-assed spider-men… and dragons. Really, sister? Dragons?” Dean goaded.

“So I dusted off some of the old classics. I needed help.”

“With what?” Sam scoffed. “Tearing apart the planet?”

“You misunderstand me. I never wanted that. Not at first. I liked our arrangement.”

“What arrangement?” Marion asked, the words coming out a little more meek than she wanted.

“The natural order. My children turned a few of you, you hunted a few of them. I was happy.” Eve replied.

“Okay, so what changed?” Dean demanded.

“My children, no thanks to you, started getting kidnapped and tortured. Even my first borns.” Marion threw a quick glare at her brothers as Eve continued. “I was pushed into this. After all, a mother defends her children.”

“Really?” Dean asked, incredulously. “You’re gonna use the Mother of the Year defense? You?”

“It happens to be true. Know what? Maybe you’ll believe it if I look a little more like this.” Marion had to force herself not to look away as Eve changed her visage to look like her mother.

“Oh, you bitch.” Dean growled.

“She died to protect you, didn’t she? See. You understand a mother’s love. I’m no different.” Marion gave a shuddering sigh at the sound of her mother’s voice. Dean looked over, seeing the enamored look on his sister’s face, got angry.

“Alright, you know what? This conversation’s over. If you’re gonna kill us, kill us.”

“You? No. It’s Crowley I want dead.” Eve said.

“Well, you’re too late there- that little limey mook roasted months ago.” Dean snapped.

“Crowley’s alive.” Eve said, matter-of-factly.

“That’s impossible.” Sam said.

But Marion knew it wasn’t impossible. As soon as Eve had spoken the words, she knew it was true. It had never made sense, she realized, but she’d been so desperate to rejoin her brothers, to stop hiding, that she’d made herself believe it.

“Your sister knows it’s not impossible.”

Sam and Dean were soon staring at her expectantly. Marion looked down. “It never made sense. It was too easy. The King of Hell brought down by a single pawn of Heaven’s army? No way that happens. That’s not even how it works in actual chess.”

“If you didn’t think it was true, why didn’t you say something?” Sam asked.

“If Crowley was at least pretending to be dead, then you guys weren’t working for him, anymore. If he was not around, then I wasn’t in danger and I could come back. I just… ignored that it seemed wrong.”

“He’s alive. I see his face through the eyes of every child he strings up and skins. Any idea why he’s hurting my babies?” Eve asked, walking around the counter to stand between Marion and Sam.

“He wants Purgatory, right? Location, location, location.” Dean said.

Eve laughed. “Is that what he told you? It’s about the souls.”

“What about ‘em?” Sam asked.

“Their power, you simple little monkey. Fuel. Each soul a beautiful little nuclear reactor. Put ‘em together, you have the sun. Now think what the King of Hell could do with that vast, untapped oil well. How powerful he’d be. Now Crowley wants to siphon off my supply, and torture my children to do it? Okay, fine. I’ll quit playing nice. I’ll turn you all. Every soul, mine. Let’s see how hot his hell burns when everyone comes to me. He asked for it.”

“You know, last I checked, there were a few billion of us. That plan might take a while.”

“What exactly do you think I’m doing here? I’m building the perfect beast.” Eve said.

“Wait a second, all those- all those things we’ve been finding.” Sam said.

“Call it beta testing.” Eve quipped.

“Well, I think your formula might be a little off. They’re imploding all over town.” Dean said.

“Oh, there were a few unfortunate failures. But I eventually got it right. Quiet, smart, inconspicuous.”

As her brothers went back and forth with Eve about the Starships, Marion’s stomach twisted. *Quiet. Inconspicuous.* She gasped a little, and at the same moment Eve smiled and said, “Little Ryan.”, Marion whispered, “The boy.”

Eve threw a little smile her way, before turning to the brothers. “You look upset. If it makes you feel any better, Ryan was bound to work on you. Little wayward orphan, like yourselves. I almost thought Marion was gonna ruin it when she ran out to the car, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. So, let’s talk.”

“Nothing to say.” Sam answered.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I have an offer to propose. Crowley. As you know, not so easy to find. So, here’s the deal. You find him, bring him to me- I let you live.” Eve offered.

“Pass.” Dean answered, quickly.

“Dean.” Sam urged.

“Sam, no.” Dean turned to Eve. “The answer is no.”

“You say that like you have another option.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” Dean tossed back.

“You think?” A side door to the diner opened and Marion closed her eyes in silent futility as Castiel and Bobby were pushed in. “Well, so much for your plan B.” Eve said before turning to Cas. “And you, wondering why so flaccid? I’m older than you, Castiel. I know what makes angels tick. Long as I’m around, consider yourself unplugged.”

Eve turned away from the angel and came over to wrap her left arm around Marion. “Work for me. It’s a good deal. Bonus, I won’t kill your friends. This little princess would probably hate to lose her angel.”

“Alright, look. The last few months we’ve been working for an evil dick. We’re not about to sign up for an evil bitch. I’m gonna take my sister’s advice on this. We don’t work with demons. We don’t work with monsters. And if that means you gotta kill us, then kill us!” Dean said.

*Now, he listens to me?!*

Eve let go of Marion and walked around to behind the counter. “Or, I turn you. And you do what I want, anyway.”

“Beat me with a wire hanger, answer’s still no.” Dean said.

Marion and Sam jumped up as Eve suddenly appeared behind Dean, grabbing his shoulders. She felt two hands grasp her arms firmly at the elbow, holding her in place.

“Don’t. Test me.” Eve said, her head right next to Dean’s ear.

Dean turned his head a little and glared at her as best he could. “Bite me.”

Marion closed her eyes as her brother’s blood spurted across the diner and the shouting began.

“No!” from her little brother.

“Dean!” from her sometimes lover.

And then, the sound of coughing with an other-worldly rumble behind it. She opened her eyes to see Dean standing. “Phoenix ash.” He pulled out an empty shotgun shell from his pocket. “One shell, one ounce of whisky. Down the hatch. Little musty on the afterburn. Call you later, Mom.” Dean said.

Marion was sad to see Eve turn back into her brunette visage. Sad that she couldn’t see her mother’s face anymore. But when the black liquid began to pour out of her facial orifices, Marion knew that Eve was dead, and that she should focus on the Starship holding her arms. Apparently, everyone else had the same idea, because all the Starships started to attack.

“Shut your eyes!” Castiel yelled.

Marion threw her arm over her eyes, but the white light still made it through. She spent a moment blinking away stars from her eyes as Bobby stepped over a few bodies toward Dean. “We gotta take you on more monster hunts.”

“Hey, Cas, um… Dean’s bleeding pretty good.” Sam said, looking over at Dean pressing a rag to his neck.

“Yeah, I think she turned me into a Jefferson Starship. Could you clear that up, too?” Dean groaned.

Castiel touched Dean’s shoulder, lightly, and the wound healed. Dean rolled his shoulders and sighed. “Alright, we’re good. We got to go. Now.”

“Where?” Castiel asked, confused.

“The kid. The little kid. He’s one of ‘em.” Dean admitted.

“Unbelievable.”

“Yeah. I know, Cas. You told me, alright. Let’s just go.” Dean said, prompting Castiel to shake his head. Dean placed the empty shell on the counter and walked over to Castiel. Castiel shook his head again as he flew them to the uncle’s house in Merritt.

They all looked down at the dead uncle on the floor in the living room. “So, we kill the wicked witch and she still wins. I mean, they could’ve turned half the town by now.” Dean shook his head as Cas started to say something. “Don’t say it.”

Marion genuflected and turned away from the uncle as Bobby opened a door. “Found ‘em.” Bobby said, swinging the door open wider.

Marion followed her brothers and Castiel over to the door, which led to a cellar. “Well, who ganked them?” Dean asked.

Sam and Marion both bent down to investigate a yellow powder. Marion’s breath caught in her throat as Sam looked up and said, “Demons.”

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#cassie writes stuff #castiel/ofc #twin fic #spn #spn fanfic

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idratherstayslytherin · 6 years ago

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Feelings We Can’t Let Go ( A Drarry Fic) CHAPTER FIVE

Summary: Harry needs to pass his NEWTs with a decent grade in Potions. The Ministry sends Harry to France so he can study for his exam with none other than Draco Malfoy, who has been blocked from Wizarding Society for almost a year now. It was supposed to be just a few months of tutoring, but it was so much more than that.

Read Chapter One HERE

Read Chapter Two HERE

Read Chapter Three HERE

Read Chapter Four HERE

Quick note: Posting re-edited chapter here and on ao3 again, because I want to improve my English and terrible writing. I hope you enjoy it!

This chapter was written mostly by my co-writer who isn’t helping me anymore, but still deserves the credit for huge part of it. You can find her AO3 HERE . I added a bit of the text and re-written some parts that didn’t feel right or were ooc in my opinion, I also corrected grammar.

Do let me know what you think of it!

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Harry couldn’t stop but wonder how strange and complex the whole concept of time was. how it seemed to pass at different speed, depending on what was happening. He also couldn’t stop but wonder why autumn always got him nostalgic, and how that one specific season brought so many of his hidden emotions to the surface, so many things he was trying to hide, and now he was overwhelmed with them, melancholy, anger, love, fear, anxiety, guilt and loneliness. This was exactly why he wasn’t even shocked when he bumped into Draco, leaving his comfortable armchair in the back of Flourish and Blotts where he had been sitting for the large part of the day, before deciding on purchasing the copy of muggle poetry he found himself enjoying. He made his way towards the counter to pay for it. “Potter! What the fuck?” The blonde boy exclaimed, dropping two of the books he was holding. “Draco...” He automatically bent down and picked the fallen items from the floor, and gave them back to the boy, eyeing him. “You look terrible.” he said. Draco had huge purple marks under his eyes, and seemed pale and thin, way to thin. His jawline was more defined, his cheeks shrunken and his hands looked almost like just skin and bones. Harry’s heart ached from seeing him like this, even though he couldn’t quite explain why. The two of them hadn’t seen each other in ages, almost two months. It felt like forever, like the time they went to London together was just some old, faded memory, and they were nothing more than two strangers. Harry knew this was mostly his fault, he was the one who cut Draco off, never told him he was going on holiday, never sent that postcard and letter from Spain, and never contacted him after he got home, which was two weeks ago. Harry hardly even noticed those two weeks passing, as he thought back, he could hardly recall what he did. Obviously he spent time with Ginny. He accompanied Hermione to the library one day. He took up going for strolls in the November wind and even rain, taking in the sight of the masses huddled together under thick coats and robes, faces dull and tired, the light coming from the shop windows promising comfort and warmth, and the last golden leafs falling from the trees a sign of the end of something. He actually enjoyed all of this, it made him feel alive. He might have also felt unusually emotional and melancholy, but he felt alive, walking down Diagon Alley every day, the heat of his warming charms keeping him comfortable, and his thoughts keeping on his toes, which was something he desperately needed. He had been feeling restless, and soon found that the bookshop was one of the best places for relaxing, one of the best places for letting go of all of the things he felt, and stepping out of the routine of the usual day for a bit at least. It wasn’t that he minded the way his life was going, he liked waking up beside Ginny, making tea and breakfast with Hermione, preparing for finally becoming a Cursebreaker from January. It was more the fact that the days seemed to slip by without anything significant happening, and he missed that. These were those moments when he wondered about time. About how days could just pass and pass without even noticing, and then suddenly something happening, that made you snap out of the daze. And it had been this something, this significant happening he had been searching for every time he walked down the streets, but it didn’t seem to come until this very day. Because running into Draco was definitely significant, though Harry wasn’t sure whether it was significant in a good way or a bad way. He definitely missed his company, and thought it would be nice to catch up and go back to meeting every so often, and he was definitely glad because at least this was something different, as it didn’t happen every day, but it was also confusing, those very emotions that were now on the surface felt like they had been amplified, mixing with his memories of the past year, the two of them together in France, talking and making potions and going for walks in the fresh autumn weather. And now here they were again, together in the fresh autumn weather, and Harry was lost for words, not knowing whether it would be better to just apologize to Draco, or pretend that nothing had happened, and invite him around to his place or something. Harry also wanted to find out why did Draco looked like he did. He did not want the boy to the the wreck of a human, he missed seeing Draco smile and laugh. He missed the support and understanding they gave each other. Harry felt a bit torn between past and present. He wasn't sure what exactly he was feeling.

Draco looked angry, and even though Harry wasn’t the best at reading other people’s emotions, he was pretty sure it wasn’t just because he knocked his books out of his hands. “Thank you” Draco snarled. “Coming from you I could just take that as a compliment, you really do look dashing on this beautiful Wednesday afternoon.” Harry just rolled his eyes. He knew he didn’t look great, possibly incredibly sleepy and he knew his hair was a mess, but he stopped bothering about it. He had to admit that the jumper he was wearing was slightly peculiar, but that was only because it was a hand-knitted gift from Luna, who was probably the only person who thought lime green, purple, bright yellow, orange, pink and dark blue stripes looked good together. “That’s not what I meant.” Harry said after a pause. Draco just shook his head. Harry sighed, and they just stayed like that, awkwardly standing in front of each other, their glance meeting every so often, before one of them looked away. Draco was clinging onto his books like his life depended on them, picking invisible pieces of fluff or dirt from his robes with his other hand, nibbling on his lower lip and Harry was finding it difficult to look away. The little repeating movement simultaneously mesmerizing him and making him want to yell at Draco to stop it because it was distracting and irritating. But he didn’t, he just kept quiet and watched the perfect white teeth sink into the pink flesh, looking away whenever he felt Draco might notice him looking, before turning his attention back to the boy’s lips, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, wanting to say something, but not knowing where to start. “Are you quite done staring, Potter? If I look as terrible as you claim, maybe you should find someone else to look at, maybe your fiancée, as she seems to be good enough for you.” Draco snapped. “What?” Harry felt his jaw drop. “What’s this or anything got to do with Ginny?” “Oh I don’t know, but you sure enough don’t seem to understand.” “What the hell was that supposed to mean?” Harry asked with a confused look. He wasn’t kidding, he had no idea what Draco was talking about. “Be patient, maybe you’ll figure it out when you will be living in your perfect countryside home with your perfect ginger wife and five perfect ginger kids running around you.” “Five kids? Ah... Do I really look like the type who would want five kids to you?” “I don’t really know what type you look like to me anymore. Definitely not the type who one trusts not to disappear suddenly.” Draco pressed his lips together, rolled them to the inside of his mouth and closed his eyes as if regretting saying this He wished he could have bit back that last part, it was really a little too much than what he had wanted to say. Harry hated himself for realizing how much he actually missed the blonde. “I-” Harry started, but then closed his mouth. Then he opened it again, wanting to continue, he couldn't. Draco snorted. “It’s alright, Potter, you don’t need to make excuses.” the blonde boy sneered. “Now if you'll excuse me-” he pushed past Harry and shoving the books he bought in a bag he took from his pocket, made his way out of the shop in a hurry. Harry stood there agape for a moment, looking down at the poetry book he wanted to buy, but without further thinking he placed it on top of the closest shelf and dashed to the door, immediately finding himself in the usual afternoon crowd, shoving past the slow walkers, in hope of catching a glimpse of the platinum blond hair or the black clad figure of Draco. He wasn't going to let this end like this. He felt guilty about being a bit selfish, he needed Draco back in his life, but he knew he hurt the boy and shouldn't be asking him to take Harry back. It seemed like it was his lucky day, because soon he did, spotting him right as the boy slowed his pace, seemingly not too keen on ending their encounter either, assuming Harry would have caught up with him by now if he had bothered to follow. Harry did bother, and soon he stood next to Draco, after picking up his pace and pushing a few other people out of his way. “Wait, Draco!” he called. The blonde boy came to a halt, and turned around to face Harry, and stood looking at him, merely rising his eyebrow. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I know I fucked up and that I was an asshole, but if you don’t hate me too much.... would you want to grab some coffee with me sometime?” “At least you're correct about one thing, I do hate you.” Draco said, but his lips twitched up, and Harry could tell that Draco wouldn’t decline the offer. “Sure.” Harry smirked. Draco just shook his head, but he couldn’t keep a sheepish smile off his face. “Are you free today? I need to get a bit of shopping done, but you could come around and we could make lunch together, the others won’t be home until the evening.” “Eager much?” Draco grinned, his eyes lit up with what Harry assumed was joy. It was almost like the boy was admitting that he missed Harry too. It was only a teasing grin, but Harry couldn’t suppress the feeling of joy flooding him. He wasn’t too keen on admitting it, but he had missed the bastard. “Fine, if you are busy, next week is good for me.” Harry scoffed. Draco let out a short laugh, and grabbed Harry’s arm, dragging him back in the direction they came from. “Hey! Draco! What the hell?” Draco didn’t say a word until they arrived at Flourish and Blotts and he had picked up the copy of poetry Harry had chosen, but left there; he placed it on the counter while digging into his pockets for some cash. “You can't be seriously doing it. I can’t accept this, I’m paying for it.” “Potter, don’t be stupid, you’ve bought me stuff before, this is only a book.” Draco scoffed. “It isn’t ONLY a book. It’s a great book, you should read it.” “Merlin, Potter, why do you have to always be so difficult? You know very well what I meant.” the blonde boy sighed, and passed a few coins to the witch behind the counter who was watching the two of them bickering with great interest. “But…-” Harry started again, but Draco shushed him, shoving the book into his hand. “No buts. There you go. Read it, enjoy it. And if you are so keen on me reading it, lend it to me, it actually does look like a good piece of literature. I’m surprised you would choose something like it. Granger’s influence?” He asked with a pretend polite smile. “Sod off, Malfoy” Harry muttered, looking at the book in his hands, smoothing his right over the cover. “Back to Malfoy and Potter, are we?” “You started it.” Harry retorted. “Well you were the one who disappeared, are you seriously telling me you expected a warm welcome?” Draco said in a doubtful voice, raising his eyebrow, and running a hand through his locks, that now were even longer, they reached behind his shoulders. “I told you I was sorry, okay? I wanted to write a letter but I never sent it, and when we got back I kind of forgot, and then I thought you would hate me if I just showed up out of nowhere.” He felt embarrassed saying this, but he couldn’t help the words tumbling out of his mouth. “Now I'm definitely sure I hate you.” Draco assured him with a grin, giving him a light push towards the door. “And I will hate you even more if we don’t get moving, because if you haven’t noticed, we stopped in the middle of the bookshop and people are looking.” “I don’t care.” Harry shrugged, but lead the way out of the shop. “How can you not care?” Draco searched for Harry's eyes. Harry knew the boy was paranoid about being around other wizard and witches, he remembered Draco's stories about people treating him like some of the strict pureblood families used to treat their house elves. “Gotten used to it I guess. I mean, I have to admit, it can be really irritating, but I don’t give a damn about what they say in the papers or what people whisper behind my back. I know who I am and what I want and I don’t care about other people’s opinions. Hell I care if they see me with you, I want to be here with you, and if people can't understand that, it's their problem, not mine." Harry shocked himself with his words, he wasn't planning on the confession sounding somewhat sappy. “Don’t you now?” Draco had an amused smile on his face. “What happened to you in this past month or so that made you so mature?” “Me? Mature? That’s something I never thought you’d say about me.” Harry shook his head laughing. “There are a lot of things you would have never thought I’d say about you.” Draco muttered. “What?” Harry turned to him with a puzzled look on his face, halting. “Nothing.” The blonde boy quickly said, before glancing around. They were standing right in front of the market, which was one of those places Draco appreciated, but could never spend more than half an hour in. It was noisy and colorful and packed with old witches, most of whom were slow walkers which irritated him to no extent. “You said you needed to do some shopping.” He said nodding towards the arcade. “Oh. Yes. I forgot.” Harry said, and started walking towards the stalls with Draco following him after a dramatic eyeroll. Soon (not soon enough for Draco who was already fed up with the whole day and cursed himself for agreeing on going to Harry’s place for the day instead of settling for another date when he could actually prepare for what awaited him) they were stocked up with fruit and vegetables and fish and mushrooms and an expensive bottle of wine Draco chose and Harry insisted on paying for, heading in the direction of Grimmauld Place 12. “Have you actually ever been inside?” Harry asked, as they stood in front of the house that emerged from between number 11 and 13. “Why would have I?” Draco gave him an odd look. “I don’t know, I mean it is the Black ancestral home, I just assumed…” Harry trailed off. Then he remembered one time Draco came here, it was when they haven't seen each other for while and they both missed each other dearly, but also were furious with one another. He gasped remembering the memory of their night in Draco's flat. “You are on the family tree though, you know.” He tried to brush the whole conversation off. Draco stayed silent for a while, and Harry was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable, he wasn’t even sure why. He had basically started to feel at home at the other boy’s flat, why was it so different for them to spend time at Harry’s place? Well of course sharing the house with other people was one of the factors, but as neither of them were home, Ron and Hermione at the Ministry and Ginny at practice, it didn’t really matter. He showed Draco around the house, barely saying anything about any of the rooms, and ushering him towards the main living room, hoping that it would feel less weird once they were sitting down and comfortable, maybe even opening the wine they bought or having some butterbeer or something. But even when they were in the living room, Harry cross legged in one end of the sofa, Draco stiffly sitting in the other end, it was awkward. The whole situation, and Harry had no idea why. Sure, he hadn’t seen the other boy for a while, and sure, it’s always a little awkward when you visit someone for the first time, but it wasn’t just that. “Care to tell me about your holiday or at least something, Potter? Because if you continue to sit staring at the fireplace any longer I’ll just go home, you don’t need company for that.” This broke Harry’s trail of thoughts, and he looked up with shock, not understanding what had just happened. Draco had been like before, they laughed, they teased each other, but now that they got back to Harry’s place he was acting as distant as ever, which was making Harry burn on the inside. Draco always managed to do that, even with one look, one word, one touch. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” “With me?!” Draco echoed with a sarcastic laugh. “Nothing’s wrong with me, thank you very much, I think you are the one who should sit down and think what’s wrong with them and sort out their priorities.” “My priorities?! What the hell are you on about, Malfoy?” He saw the blonde boy wince at his surname again, and Harry almost regretted using it, but then he looked into his cold grey eyes and his emotionless face, and he decided he deserved it. “Oh sorry, I forgot you were the Golden boy and you were perfect and the whole fucking world revolves around you, I’m sorry I dared to point out that you are an enormous arse, Potter. And it was a mistake to ever think you weren’t.” “What’s wrong with you?” Harry was shouting now, desperate and furious. “Nothing” Draco snapped. “I’ll just be on my way, enjoy yourself with your poetry and your quality wine just so you don’t feel lonely before the Weasley-girl comes home” he spat, and without waiting any longer, he disapparated, leaving Harry standing up next to the couch, staring into the empty space in front of him, gaping. What the hell was this all about? Harry felt anger pumping through his veins, but he also couldn’t help but feel sad and guilty. He thought he just got Draco back, but it seemed like it wasn’t going to be as easy as he hoped. Yes, the boy was making his lose his calm, but Harry wasn't going to give up on the git. Naturally, after calming down (and reluctantly, but heading Draco’s advice drank half of the wine, straight out of the bottle) the first thing he did was to try and Floo to the boy’s flat, but he seemed to have put wards up, and Harry simply couldn’t get through. So he tried apparating into his flat, but that didn’t work either, Harry couldn’t help but wonder how the heck Draco knew all of these protective spells, and why he felt it necessary to use them to block out him. The last thing he tried before giving up for the day was apparating to his doorstep, and ringing the doorbell for what seemed like forever, but he got no reply, so he apparated back home, only to find Ginny had already arrived. “Hey, Gin” he greeted her with a smile, and pulled her in for a hug. “Where were you? I thought you’d be home because I saw all your stuff, but..?” “I um-” For some reason Harry didn’t feel like explaining all about Draco. Especially as he didn’t quite understand what was going on, which would definitely make explaining a little harder. “I was out shopping earlier and I just dumped the stuff but then I needed to get some fresh air so I popped out. It seems like I timed it just right” he said, smiling at his fiancé. It was a little forced and fake, but Ginny didn’t seem to notice, she just kissed him on the cheek before carrying on putting the stuff away in the kitchen, and chattering about her day. Harry tried to listen, he really did, but he couldn’t stop thinking about why Draco had acted so weird and how he could talk to him. Get him back. He spent most of the weekend trying to figure out how to contact Draco, as he tried to Floo and apparate to his flat both days, and he even sent a letter to him (which was actually a piece of cardboard from an old cornflakes box he found and scribbled a few words about how he didn’t understand what the fuck all of this was and that he was sorry and that they should talk), but as he expected, he got no reply, so after waiting another couple of days he decided he’d visit the boy at St. Mungo’s. Of course he had to ask a nurse to tell Draco he was there and he wanted to talk, because they wouldn’t let him in any further than the visitation area, and of course he wasn’t even surprised when the nurse told him that he was busy and had a tight schedule all day, so he just gritted his teeth and went home.

When Draco was told by one of the nurses for Merlin-knows which time, that Harry Potter was waiting for him, asking about him; again, he felt his blood boiling. Then again, what was he supposed to say? He had been avoiding Harry since their ‘incident’ as he referred to that certain Friday afternoon when he thought of it, and he had really hoped the boy would give up after realising that he wasn’t going to answer or let him into his flat, but he didn’t need much time to figure out that Harry’s irritating tenacity was as strong as ever, and he wouldn’t leave him be. But he expected him to at least show up after work or something, not just come barging into the hospital sending someone to fetch Draco for him like he fucking owned the place and the nurses weren’t more than servants and message bearers. This wasn’t actually the thing that made Draco so angry about the whole situation, it was more the fact that he dropped the vial of expensive medication he had in his hand when the nurse told him Harry Potter was waiting for him; spilling it over his robes and the floor, leaving green marks that didn’t seem to completely fade even after a thorough Scourgify. And maybe also the fact that now that they met again, he couldn’t help but think about the boy, almost day and night, angry both with himself and Harry, but mostly himself for letting the boy get to him like this. From then on, every single day for a week there would be a nurse coming to find him, saying that Harry was waiting for him, and he would always tell her the same thing: he was busy. In fact he was, he had been making progress with Appoline, and working with a new patient who was assigned to him, an old wizard suffering from the long-lasting effects of a strange old curse, but this wasn’t the only reason he didn’t ever go down to see Harry. Actually this wasn’t the reason at all, if he had wanted to see the boy, he could have went down during his lunch break or anytime between his patrols, but the truth was that he didn’t want to. At all. Well that wasn’t true either, because part of him wanted nothing more than to be with Harry, but he was still angry with him, and broken by trusting someone and starting to depend on them and letting them hurt him by leaving. This was something new for him, Draco had always thought he was good at keeping his distance from people, not getting attached to anyone for his own good. And then all of a sudden the visits stopped. There was no nurse looking for him, and when he walked down to the visitation area there was no Harry waiting for him, and this made him feel even worse if that was possible. The boy had given up on him, just because he had been sulking, and now he didn’t even bother to look for him. Great! He removed the wards from his flat, but Harry didn’t come. He spent his lunch hours in the visitation area, but there was no sign of the boy. He went to Flourish and Blotts every afternoon after work, sitting in the armchair opposite to Harry’s favourite one for hours, waiting for him to show up, but he was nowhere to be seen, and not just in the bookstore, but in any of the other shops, or in the streets, and not even in the newspapers, there hadn’t been any big announcement about the Boy Who Lived for ages now, and though Draco normally hated those articles, most of them going on about what a beautiful couple Harry and Ginny would be, and guessing when their wedding will be or when will they have children and how many, but now he wished he would come across even the dumbest article that was ever written if that meant he found out what was going on with the boy. After a week he just gave up, no longer searching for him, no longer scanning the crowd on his way to work and back home for the familiar mop of messy dark hair, as he knew he wouldn’t see it. Or at least that’s what he thought, up until the first of December came, and there was an owl waiting for him at St. Mungos, squawking impatiently, a rather big parcel tied to it’s foot. He eased the bird of it’s burden, giving the rectangular package wrapped in simple brown wrapping paper a quizzical look before opening it. Inside lay a letter, messy and rushed, parts of it scribbled over, and the whole piece of parchment covered in blotches of ink, making some parts impossible to read. Underneath was a book, a collection of muggle poetry, a yellow note hanging out on the side, marking a poem. Wilfred Owen - Exposure Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knive us . . . Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent . . . Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient . . . Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous, But nothing happens.

Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire, Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles. Northward, incessantly, the flickering gunnery rumbles, Far off, like a dull rumour of some other war. What are we doing here?

The poignant misery of dawn begins to grow . . . We only know war lasts, rain soaks, and clouds sag stormy. Dawn massing in the east her melancholy army Attacks once more in ranks on shivering ranks of grey, But nothing happens.

Sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence. Less deadly than the air that shudders black with snow, With sidelong flowing flakes that flock, pause, and renew, We watch them wandering up and down the wind's nonchalance, But nothing happens.

Pale flakes with fingering stealth come feeling for our faces— We cringe in holes, back on forgotten dreams, and stare, snow-dazed, Deep into grassier ditches. So we drowse, sun-dozed, Littered with blossoms trickling where the blackbird fusses. —Is it that we are dying?

Slowly our ghosts drag home: glimpsing the sunk fires, glozed With crusted dark-red jewels; crickets jingle there; For hours the innocent mice rejoice: the house is theirs; Shutters and doors, all closed: on us the doors are closed,— We turn back to our dying.

Since we believe not otherwise can kind fires burn; Now ever suns smile true on child, or field, or fruit. For God's invincible spring our love is made afraid; Therefore, not loath, we lie out here; therefore were born, For love of God seems dying.

Tonight, this frost will fasten on this mud and us, Shrivelling many hands, and puckering foreheads crisp. The burying-party, picks and shovels in shaking grasp, Pause over half-known faces. All their eyes are ice, But nothing happens. The yellow note said “I have no idea why I wanted to show you this poem, but I do, because I like it, and I hope you like it too. I said I would lend the book to you, and now you have it, you can even keep it if you don’t mind my notes next to the ones I liked, and even if you do mind them, please don’t give me a lecture about writing in books, I already had to listen to it once from Hermione. ~ Harry” And this was how and why Draco found himself curled up on his sofa, reading muggle poetry all afternoon, tutting or sniggering at Harry’s little notes, but enjoying the poems, the way such simple words combined could result something so powerful, something he could never do. He might have always appreciated literature, he wasn’t good with words, with expressing himself. He knew Harry wasn’t either, so he hoped the boy didn’t mind that he sent the book back after having marked his own favourite poems, accompanied by a note saying that he agreed that they should meet.

Days passed, and soon it was Saturday afternoon, the very day they had agreed to meet up, and Harry should have felt nervous, he had for some time now, but he didn’t. Maybe it was the first snow of the winter, the tiny white flakes falling onto his thick robes and in his hair, melting in seconds, their perfect structure dissolving to nothing. Maybe it was the excited crowd in Diagon Alley, the witches and wizards excited about Christmas shopping. But most of all it was the fact that when he entered the café where they decided to meet, Draco was already there, his face slightly nervous, but his lips curled into an amused smile as he sat flipping through the menu, glancing at the door every so often, no traces of his previous coldness and anger, and Harry was sure everything was going to be alright. He closed the door of the cosy coffee shop, making the overhead wind chimes tinkle, causing the blonde boy to look up at him. Harry shot him a slightly nervous grin, and slid into the seat opposite the other boy, ridding himself of his robes. They sat in silence, apart from Draco ordering them a cappuccino from the waiter who had been hovering around the table for a while until they received the two cups of freshly made coffee. Harry took a sip of his, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and leant back, forcing himself to look up from the tablecloth which he had been examining for the past minutes. “Listen, Draco...” he started. He cleared his throat. “I know I’m terrible with words and I don’t really know how else to put this, but I’m sorry.” He stopped for a second, and sighed. “I know I messed up, real bad, and I don’t even have a proper excuse for avoiding you, it just happened. But I have regretted it, and I am sorry, and I never actually meant to do this to you, you don’t deserve it, I really enjoyed spending time with you and I have missed it. And I know it’s kind of an immature way to handle this but it worked before, and anyway now we are equal as you disappeared for quite a while after I came back from France, so truce?” Draco had been watching Harry with his usual emotionless face, except for the tiny smile playing at his lips, a mere twitch, something a stranger wouldn’t even notice when looking at his expression. But Harry wasn’t a stranger, and he wasn’t stupid either, even though he sometimes acted like he was. Judging by the other boy’s confidence, he had been sure that Draco was open to calling truce even before he had walked into the café. And he hadn’t been wrong. “How long have you been rehearsing this speech?” Draco asked with a smirk. “I didn’t. I improvised.” Harry huffed. “Sure you did.” “I’m telling you I did.” “And I know you are lying.” “I’m not.” “Yes you are.” “No I’m not. I may have given it a bit of thought, just so I gathered what I wanted to say, but I definitely didn’t rehearse it. Can you really imagine me spending so much time of my day on anything to do with you?” Harry snorted. Draco let out a short laugh. “I can, and I know it is true.” Harry just huffed again, but Draco knew he wasn’t even really annoyed. “Fine, truce?” He asked giving up. “Truce.” Harry grinned, extending his hand over the table. Draco took it and shook it. Holding onto the other boy’s hand which was still cold from the weather outside a little longer than necessary, he notice how natural it felt, how well their hands fit together. It felt like coming home. After this thought Harry shook his head to himself, and let go of Draco’s hand, dropping his own onto the table, going for his cup of coffee which had cooled down a bit by then, and downing more than half of it with one gulp. And suddenly everything was alright. They carried on pretty much from where they left off, Draco told Harry about his work, Harry told him how impatiently he was waiting for the new year to start so that he could start working as a Cursebreaker, and how he enjoyed Spain and thought Draco would like it apart from the crowds. Draco invited him around to his place after their third cup of coffee and they made dinner together the way they used to, it felt right. No, in fact it was more than right, it was great, and Harry felt relaxed and giddy with happiness (and maybe firewhiskey) and Draco was talkative and smiling and the usual stiffness that his posture had when they were in public was completely gone, he was more than happy to sit sprawled across his sofa with Harry after finishing their meal. Harry also kept giving Draco a look the boy couldn’t quite recognize, he was almost sure Harry never looked at him like this. Was it joy? Maybe it was interest in what Draco was talking about? Whatever it was it made Draco’s heart skip a beat faster and he couldn’t help, but feel a bit sad as he knew Harry would never feel anything more than sympathy towards him. Sure, there were a few short silences, but they weren’t the uncomfortable ones, and sure, there a few unsaid things, but Draco thought that was for the better, and sure, it took some time for Harry to snap back into reality when he realized that the other boy’s hand was right behind his head on the back of the sofa, grazing his neck every time he shifted in his seat, sending electric tingles down his spine; and sure, Draco stood up abruptly saying that he needed a refill when Harry told him Ginny and he were getting married in the second week of December and he wanted Draco to come, but it was indeed more than alright. It was the usual feeling of them being together, the usual teasing, the usual warm smiles, the usual insults that didn’t carry any weight and were more jokes than anything else, and the usual glances at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. But this didn't mean that when Harry started talking about his and Ginny’s wedding, Draco didn't immediately feel sick, sprinting to the kitchen where he rested his hands on the edge of the sink and tried to slow down his breathing as his eyes began to water. Harry was making him feel things that he didn’t want to feel towards the boy who was getting married. The boy who was straight (well at least Harry must have thought he was) and Draco had no chance getting together with. The thought of Harry wanting for Draco to come to the wedding was making him want to throw his glass of wine on to the wall and scream, but he had to refrain himself, he couldn't lose his cool. He had to come to the wedding, and he wanted to. For Harry. Spending time with each other seemed natural as soon as they got back to the place they were earlier on, and they found themselves meeting even more regularly, every second or third day, whether it was just staying at Draco’s place, talking and cooking, or going for a walk through Diagon Alley, popping into some shops just to look around, going to the market together, Draco putting up with the crowd, which didn’t seem as difficult as it used to, now that Harry was by his side, or anything else they thought of doing. Except for visiting Grimmauld Place 12 again. Harry couldn’t quite explain why, he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the thought of being there with Draco. It felt wrong for some reason, but Draco didn’t seem to mind, so he tried not to think too much of it. He sure was happy enough being at the other boy’s flat, only going back to his place late at night. Harry knew this couldn’t go on like this forever, he would soon be busy with planning his and Ginny’s wedding, and they would be spending more time together, as his fiancé would start training in the mornings instead of the afternoons and evenings, realising she was never home before ten, Harry not even mentioning that he wasn’t either. Draco had become his little secret, something only the two of them knew about, and of course anyone else who saw them around. Because people did notice the odd pair of them, mostly just staring at them in shock, sometimes asking Harry if he was alright, or Draco was making him do something he didn’t want (these questions seemed to fluster Harry more, he never understood how Draco could just give a short, dismissing and sarcastic answer before clutching Harry’s arm and pulling him away; Harry always felt like he was seconds away from hexing the questioner’s balls off for assuming all kinds of things about Draco). Once someone even asked them whether they were going out, the latter question flustering the two boys equally for some reason. It was just one of their usual rounds at the market, shopping for dinner, and a young witch found them in an especially domestic moment, Draco holding an eggplant in his hand and making a funny comment about it which caused Harry to double over with laughter, clutching the blonde boy’s arm, who was laughing himself, and simultaneously trying to snatch their shopping list from Harry’s hand. The question took them by surprise, Harry sobering up quickly, letting go of Draco’s hand, and choking on his own aspirations. He stopped laughing, and Draco turning bright red, busying himself with looking at the piece of parchment he finally seized from Harry’s hand, leaving Harry to answer the question. Gryffindor mumbled something about “not knowing where the witch got the idea”, but it couldn’t have been too convincing, because the ebony-haired woman shot them a knowing glance before leaving them in a confident stride, only looking back to wink at them. Neither of them ever mentioned this again, Harry angry with himself for being so affected by the situation, Draco knowing that it would only raise questions he would rather not answer. But all was well, and that was what mattered, even if it meant people thought they were going out, and that Harry had to lie about where he was going when he sneaked off to buy Draco a Christmas present, as he still didn’t want to tell Ginny about being friends with him again, even though he wasn’t quite sure why.

#drarry #drarry fic #my writing #my fic #feelings we can't let go #draco malfoy #harry potter #fic #draco malfoy x harry potter

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buddhasfanficdictatorship · 6 years ago

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Fanfic Progress Update: What I’ve Been Dealing With edition (Part 1 of 2)

Been awhile since I did this, but I had no news to report until recently. Buckle up, because there’s a bunch I need to say. I’m going to break the update in two, the first half detailing what I’ve been dealing with up to this point and the second part with my plans going forward, the actual status of my fics and where I go from here.

A side note first; I purged everything NSFW from here just to be safe, and won’t be posting links to NSFW fics here anymore. I don’t trust Tumblr one bit and I’m not taking chances. I’d leave, but there aren’t any good alternatives. I’ll still post SFW chapters and updates and other stuff though.

Also, sometime soon I’ll be posting a link here and on AO3 to a Google Doc with my current fic statuses and a list of my future plans and ideas. One handy masterlist of all my fics, current and planned, for readers to keep up to date with what I’m currently working on, what’s on hiatus, and ideas in store for the future.

NOW on to more important matters. I have some good news for once. The two worst units in my apartment complex got evicted at last after a YEAR of me begging, demanding, and pressuring the landlord to kick them out. Since my last update things initially had actually gotten worse before this surprise. The violent drunk who lived next door threatened my mother and I on a few occasions and, among other things, repeatedly ripped our outside lightbulb from the socket and shattered it on the ground to intimidate us. His drunken rages and lashing out became even worse and more dangerous than it had, he started threatening anyone around, screaming and raving outside in the dead of night that he would shoot anyone who called the police. Even when the cops were called they never did anything, not one arrest. Landlord didn’t care either, wasn’t listening to our complaints. It was legitimately dangerous.

So because of all this I had to start walking my mom to the bus stop when she left for work in the morning, and I always carried a switch blade with me just when checking the mail or taking out the trash. That’s how bad things had become. I had given up all hope, NO ONE was doing anything.

I was going to post a video i took of this ridiculous nonsense but it was too large and didn’t know where else to link it. Oh well. Anyways, the woman he lived with would routinely lock him out when he left to buy booze in the night because he’s an abuser with a temper, trying to escape him but causing problems for everyone else around. And of course, being a dumbass, simply making off another key never came to mind for them. He would retaliate by standing outside all night screaming and threatening and trying to kick the door in. My walls would shake and pictures literally fell off the walls while he was pounding. You coudln’t just ignore it, he’s shouting death threats outside at 2AM. Forget about writing, I couldn’t even sleep or relax. Just constant tirades.

Imagine this crap, literally every. Single. Night. For nearly two years. I have almost a dozen videos (including screaming matches and fist fights too) I made towards the end over just one month, since the manager and police weren’t believing they were problems even when 5 different apartments said they needed to go. And for every vid I have there's a half dozen of these occasions I didn’t or couldn’t film over just that one month.

And if it wasn’t this asshole, it was the other group who partied outside all night long. Blaring music from 9 PM to 5 AM nearly every night outside in the complex courtyard. Getting into fistfights and shouting matches like a damn episode of Jerry Springer. Not the least bit of concern for their neighbors or common decency, complete and unredeemable pieces of shit.

So if you ever wonder why I couldn’t write, why I routinely broke promises for update timeframes, why my chapters became shorter and less polished, well THIS crap played a big part over the last year. And I lived RIGHT NEXT DOOR to this guy, our apartments share a deck entryway. A few times he was out there screaming that he had a gun and was going to shoot people. Police STILL didn’t arrest him. I was trapped for months and months suffering this, trying to deal with this.

This is part of the reason I went on hiatus. I struggled to sleep or get even a few quite minutes a day, let alone the focus and quiet I need to write. It was a constant party, a never ending nightmare day and night. This is why so many of my chapters were half finished and not to my standards in quality. I rushed and fumbled to produce things I was unhappy with to try and sate readers wants for more, but that always left me feeling worse, knowing I wasn’t producing content to my capabilities. That under-performing made me feel even more depressed. Not only did these people steal my sleep and patience and sanity and calm, they also robbed me of my creativity. My desire to write was torn away because some ignorant fucks had no concept that they weren’t the only people in the world. That MAYBE 2AM isn’t the time for a drunken party outside. Radical idea, I know.

Well both are gone now. I literally almost cried with joy. They FINALLY got evicted after I wrote tons of letters to the landlord and pushed other residents to do so as well, even though they were afraid of these people (the man next to me as I said was violent and the loud bastards throwing parties were gang members).

Now unfortunately while the worst ones are gone, there’s still a number of people here that also need to be removed. Just yesterday the police where here TWICE for two different things, a domestic dispute that ended in a stabbing (this is the second time that couple has stabbed each other), and Narcotics looking for a drug dealer (we have at least two living here). So while it has improved DRAMATICALLY around here, I can actually go a night without a fistfight outside or a drunken rampage, there’s still plenty of noise and disturbances that keep me up and interrupt my attempts at writing. It’s just less frequently and less loud and violent. But every bit of calm helps I suppose. It’s still a frustrating situation, not great but at least better than it was.

As you might imagine, I am tired and drained. Going through all this day in and day out was exhausting to say the least. At the very least though, things are starting to pick back up. I’m trying to recover my passion and collect myself to write with interest and focus again. But it’s slow going after so long, I feel rusty. And I need a break from it all, because although I was gone on hiatus it wasn’t like I was relaxing any. All I can say is I’m trying.

I’m sorry to all the readers who put up with my excuses, the delays and missed updates and broken promises, but maybe now I can get back on track. I can’t promise it will be a quick return, I feel like I need a vacation and I’m so worn out I don’t know where to begin, but now there’s a good, bright opportunity there to start again.

To sum up, I am still alive and still writing and still making plans despite all this bullshit. Slowly but surely I’m trying to get back into the habit, the form I used to write with.

So that’s what I’ve been up to. I’ll look ahead at what my intentions are moving forward considering all my fics that are on hiatus with the next part of this update, as I said at the beginning. But I need a few days to craft it (like always I’m verbose) and gather my thoughts.

#progress update #progress #update #wip #fanfic #fanfiction #haitus

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jarienn972 · 6 years ago

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The Right Place - Chapter 18

After posting the final chapter earlier tonight, I realized that Chapter 18 had never been uploaded to Tumblr in October so this fic actually had been idle here for a month longer than I thought. It’s a bit out of order, but I’ve provided links to all of the prior chapters and the final one. You can also read it in its entirety on AO3 or FF.net

Prologue/Chap1 Chap2 Chap3 Chap4 Chap5 Chap6 Chap7 Chap8 Chap9 Chap10 Chap11 Chap12 Chap13 Chap14 Chap15 Chap16 Chap17 Chap19/Epilogue (edited to add link to final chapter)

Friday afternoon, Downtown Portland

To say that Jackson Toliver was pissed off would have been a vast understatement. Not knowing what his younger brother might have already divulged to the cops, he stormed into the Portland Police Department's downtown headquarters hoping to do a little damage control. The uniformed reception desk officer, the same who had escorted Benjamin Toliver to Sergeant Haviland's desk earlier that morning, now brought the elder sibling to speak with the sergeant.

"Mr. Toliver?" Haviland greeted the older brother of the young man who was still seated inside the conference room on the opposite side of the wide open bullpen area. Recognizing the face from both the photographs he'd seen as well as from his own surveillance, he could see some similarities between the brothers but Jackson was a good four inches taller than his brother, possessing both a deeper voice and a surly disposition. He looked pretty much like his driver's license photo save for one feature Haviland hadn't gotten close enough to notice yesterday – a deep bruise below his left eye that was just beginning to yellow around the edges. "Thank you for making the trip over here to speak with us today."

"I have a feeling I didn't really have much of a choice," Jackson Toliver growled, his demeanor decidedly different than his brother's. "Think we can make this quick? I don't really want to miss too much work."

"We'll try to keep this as brief as possible," Haviland responded. "Did your brother happen to mention why we wanted you to come down here today?"

"Benny was rambling on about having told the cops that he was hired to kidnap some woman and take her out into the bay on a fishing boat… Kid's got a pretty vivid imagination…"

"So, you're saying that your brother made everything up?" Haviland continued his questioning.

"Pretty much. I love my little brother but do you really think he looks bright enough to be hired for that type of crime?"

"That isn't really for me to determine. I'm just trying to get all of the facts straight because in addition to Benjamin's confession, he was identified by a witness." Haviland's statement seemed to catch Jackson off-guard as he hesitated before answering and at the same time, the officer saw a momentary glint of fear in Toliver's eyes right before the bravado resurfaced.

"Someone says that they saw my brother try to kidnap someone?" Toliver scoffed at Haviland's revelation of a possible witness. He might have been attempting to play this off as mere folly, but the experienced eye of the investigator picked up a few tell-tale hints – like the glistening beads of sweat suddenly visible along Toliver's forehead and upper lip. Haviland could only hope that perhaps the older brother would crack as easily as the younger one.

"According to the witness, your brother was involved in quite a bit more than attempted kidnapping. He'll likely be facing attempted robbery and attempted homicide charges as well."

This time, there was no disguising Toliver's startled face as it quickly shifted to anger. "Homicide? Benny couldn't kill a damned fly…"

"Doesn't necessarily mean he was the one physically committing the crime," Haviland explained. "Could have been a partner or someone else he was with who actually did the acts, but your brother remains just as culpable." He really wanted to make Toliver sweat some more, certain that Jackson was one of those partners and equally as guilty. He just wasn't quite ready to parade their witness out here publicly yet, so he pressed forward with another question. "Any idea where your brother was hanging out on Sunday?"

"Not really. Don't really keep that close of tabs on him. We don't exactly hang with the same crowd, if you get my meaning."

"Sure do. So then Benjamin didn't spend the day with you?"

"Is that what the kid said?" Toliver replied with a question as he shook his head, feigning ignorance. "No idea why he'd say that."

"Well, to expedite a few things here, I don't suppose you'd be willing to help us out by standing in a lineup for our witness, would you? It won't take very long but would definitely help us narrow things down." Haviland was aware that Killian had never actually seen Jackson's face, but he would certainly know the voice and the detective even suspected that the shape of that very distinct mark on Toliver's face might prove important as well. "Wow – that's quite the black eye you've got there too. Looks painful."

"Eh, it's almost healed," Toliver replied, shrugging off Haviland's comment. "I work at a construction site. Buddy of mine dropped a hammer and I got nailed with the business end of it. You know – stuff happens."

"Of course," Haviland said, almost believing that the nearly square shape to the bruise's center could have been formed by a perfectly timed strike from just the right part of a hammer, but it far more closely resembled the shape of a man's ring. "So, what do you say about the lineup? Would you submit to that for us?"

"Sure, why not?" Toliver replied with another shrug. Didn't matter to him whether he stood in a lineup or not. No one had seen his face. Not the shopkeeper, that Scott woman, for sure. The only other person who potentially could have recognized them was the British guy they'd tossed into Casco Bay and he certainly wasn't talking to anyone.

The next step in their plan was easy – gather a few plain-clothed or off-duty officers from around the station and have them flank the Toliver brothers in a semi-official lineup. Neither brother had yet been charged with a crime, nor had they requested an attorney so they had pressed on with the lineup, going through all of the motions. Each of the brothers was asked to step forward multiple times until at last, the administrator thanked everyone for their time and participation. As they filtered out of the unfurnished room utilized solely for lineups, Benjamin was swiftly escorted away by two uniformed officers so the brothers scarcely had a moment to exchange concerned glances before being separated once again.

Jackson Toliver lingered in the hallway outside the lineup room for a few minutes, contemplating what might happen next. He hadn't yet been taken into custody, which was a good thing, but having been so closely scrutinized several times during the lineup had him on edge. Someone had seen their faces, but who? Was that filthy rich bastard, Donleavy setting them up to take the fall for everything he'd done? They'd followed his instructions – well, most of them - but he'd been the one who stabbed the British guy, not them. He was the killer, they weren't.

But then Jackson's blood ran cold when he recalled Sgt. Haviland's description of the charges his brother could be facing which included attempted robbery and kidnapping and attempted homicide. Attempted homicide, he repeated in his head. They hadn't really laid a finger on the Scott woman so he doubted the charge could be related to her. The only other possible person…

It couldn't be, he told himself while trying to shake off the thought. Beside him, the solid steel door to the adjacent room opened up and the sergeant he'd spoken with earlier and a blonde woman in a cream colored sweater stepped out, pulling the door closed behind them. Toliver's eyes were drawn to the blonde and he couldn't stop staring, trying hard to figure out where he'd seen her before - until he spied the Sheriff badge clipped to the waistband of her blue jeans. Oh yeah, he remembered – she was one of the two cops who had questioned Benny at the construction site yesterday.

But no one else exited that room and his mind was swirling. Was there really a supposed witness? Were they still behind that closed door? Wait – the door wasn't completely shut. He could still see a sliver of light between the door and its frame…

"Mr. Toliver?" Sgt. Haviland asked as he approached, derailing Toliver's train of thought. "You're free to go, but your brother is going to be formally arraigned and charged…"

"Wait…," Toliver interrupted. "You're telling me that this supposed witness actually recognized Benny? That's crazy…"

"We'll try to get him arraigned as soon as possible, but it will be up to the judge to decide on bond…" Haviland continued, ignoring Toliver's interruption. "If you have an attorney, you may want to call them."

"No…you've got this all wrong…," Toliver argued. "No one could have seen…" He stopped before revealing too much and incriminating himself, but he'd said enough to catch Emma's interest.

"I didn't catch that last part," she began, her attention piqued by Toliver's slip. "No one could have seen him where?"

"Nothing… Forget I said anything," Toliver backpedaled, but now he was agitated, those earlier thoughts beginning to swim around his mind again. Only two other people had been out on that boat and actually saw Benny's face… He burst forward, shoving his way past both the blonde and Sgt. Haviland, reaching for the knob of the door they'd just closed – the one that Emma conveniently hadn't latched.

"Hey! You can't go in there!" Haviland shouted as both he and Emma reached for their weapons, unsure what would transpire as the door swung open and Jackson Toliver's eyes fell upon the man he'd believed to be dead but clearly was very much alive and seated nonchalantly behind a rectangular metal table.

"No… No way…" Toliver stuttered, his face draining of color as he froze at the threshold, but he shied a step back when the ghost before him spoke.

"Nice shiner you've got there, mate," Killian stated defiantly, curling his hand into a fist with a subtle glance downward at the heavy rings he wore, the one decorating his index finger matching the shape and size of Toliver's contusion.

"You… you drowned…" Toliver stammered as he retreated into the hallway, eyes shifting nervously from side to side as the realization sunk in that his brother was doomed, and very likely, he was too. Panicking, he took a rapid, ill-advised lunge towards Emma who instinctively and defensively swung at the suspect barreling at her, her fist connecting with the unmarred side of Toliver's face and sending him crumpling to the floor. Haviland immediately subdued the barely resisting Toliver as Killian's face appeared in the doorway, letting out a hearty chuckle.

"I warned you my wife could throw a punch harder than you," Killian stated with a broad smirk crossing his lips.

This was a better result than any of them could have expected. All they needed now were the brothers' formal confessions and if all went according to plan, an implication of the person who'd hired them to seal the deal. So, as soon as Toliver was handcuffed and passed off to a waiting pair of uniformed officers who had stepped in to assist, Haviland's next step was go try to convince the Assistant District Attorney that the Tolivers would be deserving of immunity if they named the man who'd orchestrated all of this and agreed to testify. They wanted the big fish, not his hired minions.

Friday evening, Portland Harbor

Killian's eyes were fixed on the horizon as he and Emma sat in her uncomfortably small yellow contraption in the same harbor front parking lot as the previous night, awaiting McCallen's arrival. The Cumberland County deputy and Sgt. Haviland we're finalizing the paperwork to process the deal they'd hashed out for the Toliver brothers. The Assistant District Attorney had given her blessing to the offer which gave the siblings full immunity from prosecution in exchange for them identifying and agreeing to testify against the mastermind of this plan to harass, kidnap and threaten Jean Scott, the failure of which had led to Killian's abduction - and near death - when his chivalrous side had instructed him to intervene.

The outcome to the week of investigating had far exceeded all of their expectations, culminating in success the moment Jackson Toliver opened his mouth. He'd described in detail how Donovan Donleavy had approached him a few weeks earlier, looking for off the books assistance with a strong-arm job. He'd wanted Toliver to frighten the shopkeeper, staging an armed robbery and then kidnapping her at gunpoint to shake the woman's resolve. They'd been instructed to take her to Donleavy's fishing boat and then to head out into the bay and leave her stranded on one of the islands, hopefully distraught and ready to sell her property. Toliver just hadn't stuck to the plan when Killian Jones complicated matters by flashing that gold coin and promising more.

Instead of Jean Scott, they'd abducted the mysterious British man who had come to her rescue. They assumed that Ms. Scott was sufficiently frightened and since they'd not gotten anything out of her till, the offer of gold was tempting to supplement what Donleavy was paying them. They just didn't know that their boss was going to be hiding out on the boat until after their supposed prisoner had gained the upper hand on Jackson and unmasked Benjamin. They'd no inkling that they'd actually kidnapped a Sheriff's Deputy (or a former pirate for that matter) at the time, but at this point in his testimony, Jackson made it quite clear that Donleavy had been the one who stabbed Killian Jones – confirming Killian's side of the story as well. The Toliver brothers had simply been following Donleavy's instructions when they'd thrown their wounded victim overboard.

Their confessions had provided enough corroborating evidence to convince a judge to sign off on a warrant to search Donleavy's boat for traces of blood. The weapon he'd used would be a lost cause as Jackson Toliver informed the prosecution that the knife had been tossed into the sea, but if traces of Killian's blood could be found aboard the boat, it would prove the veracity of the Tolivers' stories. And that was precisely the reason they were back here at the harbor, half a mile from the marina where Donleavy's boat was moored. This was about as close as Emma and Killian could get while McCallen and Haviland executed the search warrant, their participation in the joint investigation now sidelined, but they had McCallen's assurance that he would brief them both as soon as the forensic team was finished. McCallen just couldn't be certain how much later that might be so Emma and Killian were forced to wait – and impatiently at that.

Killian would have preferred to be waiting on the benches closer to the shore where he could watch the waves lapping at the sand and inhale the scent of the salty sea spray, but with his lingering weakness that inevitably led to nausea if he exerted himself too much, he didn't want to take any chances. Besides, a powerful spring storm was making its way up the coast, threatening severe thunderstorms and high winds that Emma didn't want to get caught in and she knew that the experienced mariner wouldn't argue with her logic to remain protected from the weather.

Finally, at approximately ten minutes after six, Emma's phone buzzed with a message from McCallen informing them he was on his way to the park. Emma quickly typed back their location and he responded immediately with a reply that he would meet them in ten minutes. He made no references to any findings so they could only infer that he preferred to deliver their discoveries in person so now, they just had to wait a few minutes longer.

By the time she spotted McCallen's car pulling into the parking lot, Emma was growing even more antsy than Killian. While he sat daydreaming about how much he was missing the sea, she had busied herself playing a mindless matching game on her phone, one that usually kept her entertained on stakeouts but tonight, she couldn't concentrate on the brightly colored symbols at all. She just was itching to learn if they had enough evidence to prosecute Donleavy – not just make a circumstantial case, but have actual, solid evidence to put him away for a very long time.

The impending storm was blowing in quickly, dark clouds gathering overhead as it approached, blocking what remained of the evening's sunset. Gentle sea breezes were giving way to stronger winds and rainfall was certainly imminent, but McCallen was willing to brave the weather. He parked his sedan next to Emma's Bug and climbed out into the elements, walking briskly to the driver's side as Emma rolled down the window and the deputy leaned over the yellow Volkswagen, his expression drawn into a mix of what looked like frustration and disappointment.

"So – what did the search turn up?" Emma blurted out impatiently before McCallen could even say hello.

"Nothing, I'm afraid," McCallen replied dejectedly.

"Nothing? What do you mean nothing?" she asked incredulously. "Even if they swabbed the decks or whatever the hell they do to clean a boat, there should have been some trace…"

"Emma," McCallen cut her off. "There wasn't anything found because we can't locate the damned boat!" Emma and Killian's heads both snapped up in stunned surprise.

"What?" Killian asked, one eyebrow unconsciously scrunching creases into his forehead. "Didn't the harbormaster verify that the vessel was moored there at the marina?"

"Well, the harbormaster confirmed that the boat had been in its slip this morning," the deputy explained. "He didn't see anyone around, but he also admitted that he was away from the marina for an hour this afternoon, from one until two, so it was definitely possible for someone to have snuck away with that boat during that window."

"Damn," Emma hissed, slapping the steering wheel agitatedly with the palm of her hand. "How would he have known? We barely had confessions by then…"

"Maybe someone tipped him off?" McCallen shrugged, "or maybe he had an inkling that someone was wrong? Either way, the boat is missing and apparently, so is Donleavy. There's a bulletin out for him, but if he did manage to get out of here in that window earlier today, he could be well up the Canadian coast by now."

"Not in this weather," Killian interjected. "With those swells, his tiny vessel would barely be able to manage a few knots. He'd have to hug the shallows near the coastline to avoid getting tossed about too much."

"Well, hope you know your seafaring stuff then," McCallen chuckled. "The Coast Guard has already been notified, as have Canadian authorities."

"I, for one, wouldn't question Killian's seafaring knowledge," Emma grinned, despite seething with ire that Donleavy had likely slipped through their fingers. "You know, former Royal Navy and all…"

"Well, until we pick up some news on Donleavy or his boat, how about we all head back to my place before the skies open up? I'm starving so I'll stop and pick up some food on the way home. Anything in particular that you'd like?"

"God, I could go for a huge, greasy cheeseburger with lots of fries, but I'm not sure that would sit well with Killian…" Emma sighed.

"Don't worry about me, Love," Killian jokingly chided her. "If that's what the two of you would like, I'm certain I could think of some lighter fare for myself."

"Burgers it is then. I know a great place about a block from my house. They also make a decent chowder if you think that would be better?" McCallen asked tentatively, not wanting to offend Killian, but he got a smile and a nod in reply. "Alright then. I'll see you two back at my place in about 45 minutes or so? I'd invite Haviland too but he apparently had a date tonight… Me, on the other hand, well, my Friday nights are always free…" Emma wasn't sure if the young deputy was kidding, but he didn't seem bothered or embarrassed by his statement. She was pretty certain that he enjoyed the company but didn't want or need anyone's pity for his single life. And since this would likely be their last night here in Portland, why not celebrate one big victory?

#cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan ff #The Right Place

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lesbian-sora · 7 years ago

Text

Only Fools

Summary ~ School is hard. School is harder when you’re a loser who has more bullies than friends. School is even harder when you have a crush on the most amazing guy in the world, even if your friends can’t see it. School is damn impossible when your friends coerce you into participating in the school play with the most amazing guy in the world.

Dan and Phil’s experience falls into the impossible category, but maybe together (with some help from the King himself) they can make it out alive and well.

Tags ~ Fluff, high school AU, friends to lovers, theatre kids, mutual pining, slow burn, slight angst, not actually unrequited love

Words ~ 7106/~35K

Warnings ~ Swearing

Rating ~ Teen

Author’s Note ~ Hi guys! This fic was originally supposed to be one of my fics for Phandom Big Bang 2016, but things came up. I recently blew the dust off of it, and I really liked it, so it’s getting revamped and published! Updates will most likely be once a month for the next 4 months (I may up that posting schedule if writing/editing goes well and people actually like it) and I look forward to all of you getting to read it! Also, this will be my first chaptered fic that I’m posting one part at a time, so that’s exciting!

Prompt me!

Buy me a coffee!

Next chapter!

Read on AO3

Act I Scene I

There honestly weren’t very many people Louise Pentland disliked. She was bubbly and personable, meaning she got along with just about everyone she came in contact with, and she quite liked it that way. Everything from her approachable smile to her mothering attitude made it so people were drawn to her and she to them.

That being said, she absolutely despised Phil Lester.

Was it unfair, petty, and totally unreasonable? Absolutely. In all honesty, Phil would probably be voted nicest guy in the school, if anyone were to take a poll. Was he was a bit weird? Most certainly. However, it was a completely harmless weird. It was quirky and odd like that store on the edge of town that dealt solely in the manufacture and sale of cat-themed gnomes. If she were to be straight with herself, she would admit that Phil had never knowingly or unknowingly harmed, damaged or even seriously upset herself or anyone she remotely knew, simply because that wasn’t the type of person Phil was. No, her dislike of Phil wasn’t his fault, and he had no idea it was even happening. Her dislike boiled down to one thing and one thing only.

“Louise! You’ll never guess what Phil did today!” Dan gushed, collapsing in the seat next to her.

Louise didn’t bother to look up from her compact where she was very carefully reapplying her lip gloss. She knew Dan was flushed lightly with a wide, dopey smile and that his eyes shone as if every star was compacted down into glitter that was dumped into hot chocolate. He always looked like that when Phil was brought up. Which was a lot. “I’m guessing from your normal reports that he was walking down the hall and breathing.”

“No,” Dan scowled and wadded a bit of paper into a tiny ball and flicked it at her, offering a sheepish grin after it landed in her makeup. “I actually talked with him a bit today.”

“Dan, we’ve discussed this before. Saying ‘Hi, Phil!’ and then hiding your face and running away before he can respond doesn’t count as talking to him.”

“Someone’s in a mood,” Dan pouted. “And I’ll have you know this was a totally real and legit conversation we had. Some dick head knocked into me on the way out here and Phil saw and helped me pick all my stuff up and everything. He even gave me his hand to help me stand up!”

Louise cocked a brow. “Really? Honestly, Dan I almost didn’t think you had it in you,” she said, ignoring his squawks of protest. “What all did you boys talk about?”

“He saw my piano book and asked if I played,” Dan said dreamily, the look on his face making it more than apparent that he was reliving the moment in perfect clarity again and again until it was ingrained in his memory. “And so I told him yeah, but I was awful and then I thought he was going to just leave but he walked with me almost the whole way here and he saw me in the play last year, Louise! He saw me and remembered me and told me I did a good job! Oh my god, it was probably the best moment of my life.”

Louise rolled her eyes, but smiled good naturedly, more than pleased over how happy her friend was. However, there was one thing that always bugged her about the whole situation. “Dan, darling, why Phil of all people? I mean he’s nice and all, and, sure, he’s not awful to look at, but he’s just so strange. Saying you could do better is probably the understatement of the year.”

Dan looked at her, glaring at her as if she’d just spat in his mother’s face and told her that her cooking was a disgrace (which she hadn’t) and he was personally offended (which he probably was). “Okay, first of all,” he started and Louise took a deep breath, already regretting her words and preparing for the sermon that was soon to follow. “Phil Lester is an unusual beauty so rare and perfect and we don’t deserve him. Second, he’s got an absolutely brilliant mind and we should all count ourselves lucky to hear anything that brain decides to gift us with. Third-”

“Mr. Howell,” Mrs. Bronwell interrupted from the front of the room, “as much as I’m sure we’d all love to hear you expound on the virtues of Mr. Lester, I, personally, get paid to teach you math, and I’d quite like to do so at this moment. If that’s not an imposition on you, of course.”

Dan blushed bright red all the way from his collar bones (and possibly farther, who knew) to the very tips of his ears. “Sorry, Mrs.,” he said, sinking down a bit more in his chair. “I’m done.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Louise scoffed, quite unintentionally. There were a few scattered titters around the room and Dan gave Louise a long, hard, stare. The whole school probably knew about Dan’s crush on Phil just from him talking loudly and passionately about how wonderful the other boy was at any chance he got, so it’s not like there was any new gossip being delivered so he didn’t really feel the need to be properly embarrassed. But, the sting of betrayal was still there and he was sure to let her know he felt about it.

“Thank you for your contribution, Miss Pentland,” Mrs, Bronwell smiled, “but we really must get on with our lesson. Now, today we’re studying logarithms - James, don’t you roll your eyes at me. Yes, I saw you just fine.”

Now that the lesson had begun and he was finally free of all judgement, Dan let himself drift off quite happily into his thoughts, where his daydreams once again found themselves centered upon the subject of Phil Lester. How kind his smile was when he was offering him help. How he seemed genuinely interested as Dan flushed and fumbled over the explanation of his mediocre piano skills. How his hand was so soft but sure and he held Dan’s own and pulled him to his feet. As his teacher went on about the ins and outs of math things he didn’t care about Dan drew little doodles, of hearts and Phil coming to rescue him from the horrors of sports. He sighed happily and looked out the window thinking about Phil Lester, unknowing that somewhere in the school Phil was sighing happily and looking out a window thinking about Dan Howell.

Act I Scene II

“I found out he plays piano, Peej!” Phil beamed, waving his hands around for emphasis. “That’s so impressive, honestly. I wonder if he can play anything else.”

“I think I heard somewhere that he plays drums, but that could just be a rumor.” PJ paid the conversation little mind, far more focused on the poster he was designing for the school play.

“Eh, he seems the type,” Chris added helpfully. “You know: loud, obnoxious and in your face.”

Phil scowled at his now snickering friends. “He is not. He’s always really sweet and quiet when I talk to him.”

“Yeah?” Chris challenged. “Well, I had a history class with him one time and his own friend asked the teacher if he could change seats because Dan was distracting him too much.”

“Sean said that one time when they were taking a chemistry exam Dan started singing the periodic table. Out loud,” PJ added helpfully.

“He’s boisterous, maybe,” Phil conceded, “But he’s probably hilarious which is why his friend was so distracted and besides, learning a song to memorize the periodic table is pretty smart.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Mate, we could tell you that Dan killed Mother Theresa and you’d just say ‘I mean, she probably deserved it.’” PJ chuckled next to him and Phil simply shot him another dirty look. “Anyway, as much as you love talking about Dan we really ought to move on because me and Peej, well, we don’t enjoy it near as much as you.”

Before Phil could argue PJ chimed in with a, “Help me decide on which one of these posters is better. Mr. Walters wants them up by this afternoon so people have plenty of time to sign up before auditions next month.” He showed them a couple of hand drawn posters, one featuring a more 60’s theme with psychedelic rainbow patterns and little people scattered all around doing various theatre things whilst the other was more focused on space, complete with little aliens all over it. Both said in clear letters “Join this year’s spring musical! All You Need Is Love: A 60’s space drama written and produced by PJ Liguori and Sophie Newton. Auditions after school in the auditorium on 8/8”

“I like the space one,” Phil said.

“No, no. The 60’s is way better,” Chris argued. “It’s more fun looking and approachable. Everybody likes the 60’s.”

“No, everybody likes space,” Phil insisted.

“No, you like space, you big nerd.”

“I think we should ask the cards.”

“Phil,” PJ groaned, “you can’t rely on your tarot cards for every decision you have to make.”

“Yes, I can. I asked the cards and they said it was fine,” Phil smirked, pulling out his deck of Pokemon cards. He was honestly rather proud of them; he had spent an entire afternoon dedicated to learning each of the 56 cards in the full tarot deck and assigning a Pokemon to each one, then an entire month (and more money than he’d care to admit) collecting every single card until his deck was finally complete. He closed his eyes and focused. “Alright, we’re just doing a yes or no question so we can just use the Major Arcana, or would you rather do a full reading with all the cards?”

PJ rolled his eyes, but said, “Just the Major is fine. You can do a full reading when it’s more important decisions.”

Phil nodded, separating out the twenty two cards needed. “Okay, PJ, I’m going to start shuffling. Focus really hard on your question and when you think it’s time, tell me to stop.”

PJ closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and said, “Stop.”

Immediately, Phil quit shuffling and laid the cards out in a neat row. “Is this good, or do you want me to shuffle again?”

“That’s fine. My question is ‘Should I use the space themed poster?’”

“Alright, choose a card.”

PJ chose one fourth from the left and Phil flipped it over, revealing a card of Mew. Phil grinned, before announcing: “You got The World, which talks about your conscious and unconscious joining and how you’re facing an important juncture that will make your path for the future clear. It also means that you’re going to gain true insight to the nature of yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, but is it a yes or a no?” Chris said impatiently.

“It’s a yes,” Phil said with a smug smirk.

“And how do we know you’re not bullshitting us to get your way?”

“Well, if you think about it there was the whole conscious, unconscious thing, and he clearly preferred the space one, considering how much time he spent on it.” They looked at PJ for confirmation who shrugged and nodded with a sheepish grin. “Plus if you have the play be ‘you’, having this decision be insight into the true nature of yourself makes sense since it’s really more about space with a sixties flair than sixties with space themes.” Chris frowned thoughtfully, slowly nodding his head before Phil grinned and added, “Also, you don’t.”

“Why you absolute-”

“Stow it,” PJ hissed. “Mr. Bedsole just walked in.” And with that, the three quieted down to focus on the droning lecture about World War II.

Act I Scene III

“But you said we were going out for coffee today!” Dan pouted at Louise, who, in her defense, looked absolutely heartbroken denying him.

“I’m sorry, Dan,” she said. “I really am, but Chummy says there’s a huge sale going on in Brighton today and I really don’t want to miss it. I promise we can go tomorrow.”

“I do swear that it’s a one day sale,” Zoe added earnestly, looking almost as remorseful as Louise. “I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow to make up for it.”

“That’s all well and good for tomorrow, but what am I meant to do for today?” he whined.

“You could always come with us?” Louise suggested weakly. “We can get coffee at the station to have on the train?”

Dan sighed, quietly enough that the two girls didn’t hear . “As much as I do honestly enjoy going shopping with you two, I’m really not up for a two hour train ride today. However, if you see anything you think I’d like, I wouldn’t say no to some more peace offerings for bailing on me today.”

“You cheeky thing!” Zoe laughed, gently pinching his cheek. “You’re a right mess and a half, you are.”

He batted her hand away with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Seriously, though. What am I going to do today? My mum's going to be out until five or later and I left my key at home. Do you want me to just wander around Reading lost and alone that whole time?”

“Oh, please,” Louise laughed with an eye roll. “Tyler exists, so you know there’s no way you can be bored for too long.”

“My ears are on fire right now,” Tyler sang, joining them at their table. “What are we talking about? Besides me, of course.”

“Well, someone ditched me to go look at- What is it exactly that you’re after?”

“Clothes,” both girls said in unison.

“Going to that Brighton sale?” Tyler asked with a knowing smirk. “I’d join you, but honestly, I don’t want to.”

They all laughed together before Dan piped up, “Anyway, they’re leaving me for clothes and have put my afternoon activities in your command.”

Tyler winced. “I’m sorry, Dan-”

“No!”

“I have a date!” Tyler defended. “And, boo, you know I think you’re the best thing since sliced bread, but you third wheeling me isn’t going to get me laid.”

Dan cast him a betrayed look. “So, basically what you’re telling me is I’m basically screwed? Carrie’s busy with theatre, you’re going on a date, these two would rather pet garments they can’t afford then get coffee with me, and Sean is probably off sucking face with Signe.”

“You could always just follow Phil home and sit outside like a lost puppy and hope he lets you in,” Tyler suggested, somewhat helpfully.

“Why don’t you actually fuck off?” Dan snapped,as his face turned scarlet. “That was one time, okay?”

“You stood outside his house in the rain for an hour pretending you thought it was someone else’s house before you realized nobody was home.”

“That was two years ago!”

“I still can’t believe it happened at all.”

Dan buried his face in his hands to hide his blushing cheeks. “You guys are the absolute worst people in the world and I hate every single one of you,” he groaned.

Tyler reached over and patted his cheek fondly. “Oh, boo, we know that’s not true. Who else would listen to you wax poetic about Phil?”

Again the three laughed together. “I’m still without anything to do this afternoon,” Dan pointed out.

“Can’t you just break in?” Tyler suggested. “I do that at my house all the time.”

“My mom routinely locks all the windows so mine is the only one open and there’s no way I can get to the second floor.”

“You could hang out with Sean and Signe,” Louise offered. “I’m sure they’d at least try to contain themselves while you’re around.”

“Yeah, but even when they’re not trying to climb into each other’s mouth I still always feel like I’m third wheeling so fucking hard. And not like tricycle third wheel either.”

“Why don’t you just go hang out at the coffee house on your own or go nerd shopping?” Zoe recommended. “You have your phone and headphones, right? Just sit in a corner and ignore everyone.”

Dan let out a long suffering sigh. “I guess that’s my only option, unless I want to go to the library or something.” He sighed and complained, “Why is there nothing to do here?”

“There’s plenty to do, you’re just too immersed in your laptop to experience any of them,” Louise laughed. “Chummy and I can always find plenty to do.”

“You have no idea what a town with nothing to do looks like, sweetheart,” Tyler scoffed. “Jackson was like a third this size and a good hour away from anything even remotely interesting.”

“Yeah, well, this place being better than your hometown is zero help right now. Somebody give me something to do.”

“You could just Google it and do the tourist-y things that pop up,” Zoe beamed. “Me and Alfie did that one time and it was loads of fun.”

“That sounds like a really great date,” Dan agreed, a dash of sarcasm in his tone. “However, since I’m a sexually ambiguous nerd who can’t properly talk to anyone outside of you guys, there’s very little chance of me getting a date any time soon. Plus it’s pouring and I wouldn’t want to wander around Reading in the rain even if I had a date.” Tyler took this moment to mutter about how he’d done it for Phil before, but quieted down when Dan gave him a stern glance.

“Well, whatever you decide to do, I wish you luck,” Louise said, taking out her phone to check the time. “However, Chummy and I must be getting on as our train leaves in less than an hour.”

“Bye, Louise. Bye Zoe,” Dan and Tyler chimed together. The two girls laughed and gave their final farewell hugs before leaving, leaving Dan and Tyler alone.

“So, who is this guy, anyway?” Dan asked, picking at his fingernails.

“Uh, his name is Michael and I met him on Tinder.”

“Phil’s middle name-”

“Is Michael. Yes, I know,” Tyler teased. “You’ve told us all more than once.”

Dan merely rolled his eyes and said, “So, Michael. Is this a guy you might actually like to date or is he just a casual hookup?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Tyler shrugged. “He seemed nice enough while we were messaging but not exactly my kind of guy, you know? I may just keep in contact with him to hang out with on Fridays when I’m bored because somebody is too invested in Mario Kart to go party with me.”

“Please. You and I both know that I’m probably the last person you’d want to go with you to a party. I’d just stand awkwardly in a corner playing on my phone all night and making everyone who dared to talk to me feel bad because they wouldn’t understand a single word I mumbled.”

Tyler cast him yet another sympathetic look and Dan swore he was going to rip his eyebrows out if another person looked at him as if he was the dog they were leaving behind at the shelter. “Have you considered hanging out with Carrie this afternoon? Like, I know you said you weren’t doing theatre this year-”

“The four hours I spent locked in a janitor’s closet for being in the school play said I wasn’t doing theatre this year.”

Tyler narrowed his eyes at the interruption, but continued. “Anyway, you said you weren’t going to be in the play, but I’m pretty sure they’re just doing like pre-pre-pre-play stuff today. Hanging up posters and the like. I mean, it’s something at least.”

Dan considered his options for a moment. While he had sworn off acting for the year, he really liked most of the theatre kids he hung out with last time. Besides, it was completely harmless and he did always enjoy spending time with Carrie. “Yeah, I suppose. Anyway, if it is horrible I can always pretend my grandma is in the hospital or something to get out of it.”

“That’s the Dan Howell spirit we all know and love,” Tyler grinned, clapping him on the back.

This will be fine. What could go wrong?

Act I Scene IV

There was no way this was happening.

“PJ, I can’t go in there,” Phil hissed, physically keeping his friend by his side and out of that room. For in that room sat none other than Dan Howell, looking perfect as always whilst he lounged next to Carrie, who was laughing along at something he said. “I thought you said he wouldn’t be here today!”

PJ shrugged, clearly not seeing the problem and Phil had never felt so betrayed. “He said he wasn’t coming back last year, but maybe he changed his mind. Or maybe he’s just helping a friend hang posters. Who knows? You might if you go in there and talk to him.”

“I can’t let him see me like this,” Phil refused. “I took out my contacts last lesson because my eyes were all itchy and the redness still hasn’t gone down and I look terrible.”

“Maybe he’s into the whole robot look.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Look, mate,” PJ sighed. “You can stay and help or you can go home and sulk, but either way I’ve got to be in there to take charge of this whole shindig and I can already feel Sophie glaring at me for being late. I know you don’t look one hundred percent your best ever but it’s a Monday afternoon after school and nobody looks great, and I swear to god if you tell me Dan looks amazing I will never let you borrow my Legend of Zelda games ever again.” Phil gave him a sheepish grin. “And for what it’s worth your face shape works really well with those glasses and the redness is pretty much gone.”

Phil smiled softly at his friend. “You always know what to say, Peej.”

PJ smirked and winked back at him. “It truly is a gift. Now come on, let’s go hang some posters and get some theatre nerds hyped about a play.”

As the two walked in a kind of hush fell over the gathered students and Phil couldn’t help but notice the panicked look Dan gave Carrie as he passed by them, taking a seat next to Chris and Alexandra. He leaned over to point it out to Chris, but he merely shot him a look before pointedly focusing on PJ and Sophie at the front of the room. Phil huffed; he knew why he was being shushed, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Okay, everyone, thanks for being here!” PJ beamed at the eight students sprawled across various chairs and desks. “We really appreciate your help. Does anyone have any questions?”

“Why don’t you tell them what exactly it is that they’re helping with?” Sophie suggested from behind him with a smile and a fond roll of the eyes.

PJ gave her a crooked grin in thanks before returning his attention to the crowd. “Right, I should. Well, as you all should know the school puts on a musical every spring, and if you didn’t know then you do now. Anyway, as this is our last year Mr. Walters has agreed to put on a play that Sophie and I wrote, and he’s put us in charge of everything from production to advertisement. Today we’re putting up posters around the school to let everyone know about the auditions that are happening next month, giving them plenty of time to pluck up the courage to sign up since that’s probably the hardest part of school plays for a lot of us.” There were a few scattered chuckles, and PJ carried on. “Since there are ten of us and five main areas we need to put these up, we’re going to be splitting into teams of two, and each team is going to get twenty posters to hang up. Yeah, it sounds like a lot, but we want these everywhere. I don’t want there to be a single person at this school who doesn’t know about this play. That means staple them to bulletin boards, hang them up on those weird clothes pin things outside the art room, tape them on every door and stairwell you can find. So yeah, I mean it when I say everywhere.”

“Alright then,” Sophie chimed in. “After that rousing speech, everyone pick a partner and we’ll arm you with a stapler, tape, clothespins, blu tack and more posters than you’ll know what to do with. Go!” Phil swore he saw PJ, Carrie, and Chris all share a look, but he brushed it off to partner up with Chris, only to find that he had already linked arms with Alexandra. He glanced around the room to see that PJ and Sophie were obviously in each other's pockets, Carrie was chatting with Matt, and Tom and Gi were leaned against one another playing some kind of app on Tom’s phone leaving-

“Uh, hi again?”

Phil whipped his head around to see Dan standing in front of him with a bit of red tinting his ears. “Your friend abandon you, too?” Phil chuckled. When Dan didn’t answer and just continued blinking at him, Phil flushed bright red immediately starting to back track. “Not that I’m saying- Well, what I mean is more that- You see what I’m trying to say is-” he finally sputtered to a stop. “Sorry?”

Dan blinked at him a couple more times before realization dawned on his face and he blushed to match Phil. “No, no it’s fine, I promise! I’m not offended or anything! Carrie did totally ditch me to partner with Matt. I was just really distracted by your glasses; I didn’t know you wore them.”

Phil chuckled nervously, scratching behind his neck. “Yeah, they’re- yeah. They’re kinda big and dumb looking so I try not to wear them at school too much.”

“It’s not that,” Dan mumbled, looking down and to the left while shooting Phil looks from beneath his lashes. “They actually really suit you. They make you look really smart I guess.” He flushed a bit darker before adding, “I like them.”

Well, if Phil wasn’t about to pass out before from how adorable and shy Dan looked he definitely was now. Dan liked his glasses. Dan Howell liked his glasses. He took a moment to gather himself before he could blurt out that he was about to call the optometrist and tell her to cancel all his contact orders from now until forever because Dan Howell liked his glasses. “Thanks, that means a lot,” he said instead. “I don’t really like them all that much so they can use all the love they can get from other people.”

Dan sputtered out an abrasive laugh which garnered a couple people’s attention and made Phil’s chest feel like it had been filled with warm helium before Dan slapped his hands over his mouth to muffle it. Phil considered telling Dan his hands would would better suited in Phil’s instead of quieting the music that was his laugh, but decided that was maybe a little forward. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you wearing your glasses if you hate them so much?”

“Oh, sometimes my contacts can bother my eyes and last period they were really itchy and so I took them out instead of trying to rub my eyeballs into the back of my skull.”

Phil mentally slapped himself for actually saying that out loud, but Dan just giggled. “Well, I hope they’re feeling better. I noticed you had some red in your eyes, so I’m glad it’s nothing serious.”

At the mention of red Phil slammed his eyes shut and covered them with his hands. “PJ said the red was all gone!” he whined.

Dan immediately started flapping his hands nervously. “No, no it’s fine! It’s hardly noticeable at all! I only noticed because I was staring at your face up close, and oh my god, I can’t believe I said that out loud. Someone please stop me.” By the end of his sentence Dan was a darker red than Phil previously thought possible and looked just about ready for the world to split in half and swallow him whole. He was adorable, and Phil was about to die.

“Nah, I get it,” Phil chuckled with a smile. “You said the glasses were distracting so it makes sense for you to stare.”

Dan opened his mouth like he was about to argue Phil’s point, but there was a cough behind Phil and they both turned to see PJ standing there with a stack of flyers in his hands and a knowing smirk on his lips. “Well, since the two of you were too busy - um, let’s say talking - to come up and pick an area to work in the only one left is the gym and lunchroom, so I hope the two of you brought umbrellas.” Dan looked absolutely panic stricken at the thought of needing an umbrella, much to Phil’s confusion, but PJ simply carried on. “Sophie has the stuff to hang these up with so you two need to get going or we’re still going to be here when school lets in tomorrow.”

Phil groaned melodramatically and accused PJ of forsaking him and throwing him to the depths of hell, but still smiled and thanked Sophie - who was giggling behind her hands - when he got their tools. The only problem was that Dan was strangely quiet the entire time, and not in the adorably shy way he was earlier that afternoon when they were walking to class together. No, this was more akin to the silence of a man being lead to the gallows, and that just wasn’t going to work in Phil’s book. “Hey, are you okay?”

Dan gnawed his bottom lip for a moment before sighing and saying, “I’m really not sure if I want to tell you. Like on one hand it’s really not that big of a deal, and avoiding it is only going to make it way worse, but on the other hand it’s really embarrassing, and I don’t like talking about it.”

Phil hummed in thought, tapping his chin and looking Dan up and down through squinted eyes. To most it might look like he was just observing the younger boy to come up with some sort of plan, but in reality he was just taking the opportunity to check him out. “What if I hum and then you say it really quickly and if I hear you, I can pretend I didn’t understand and if I didn’t hear you then you at least got it off your chest and you don’t have to worry anymore.”

Dan laughed and smiled so hard his eyes were almost completely closed. “You are such a strange person, Phil Lester,” he said with what Phil was adamantly interpreting as fondness.

“You know, you’re actually not the first person to tell me that.”

Dan rolled his eyes but he still had that grin so Phil didn’t take it to heart. “Unfortunately, that plan won’t work, so I’m just going to tell you, but you can’t make fun of me, okay?” Phil nodded eagerly, knowing that there was no way he could ever deliberately make Dan feel bad about himself. Dan took a deep breath and quickly said, “MyhairisnaturallyreallycurlysoIstraightenitbutwhenitgetswetitgetscurlyagainandit’srainingandIdidn’tbringanything.”

Phil blinked, trying to process what he just heard until it finally clicked and he beamed. “Why didn’t you say so?! You can borrow my coat.”

Dan’s eyes bugged out at the very idea. “I can’t just take your coat! What are you going to wear? It may be a short walk, but you’ll still wind up soaked by the time we get inside.”

Phil shrugged. “Well, any way you look at it, one of us is going to look like a drowned rat by the end of this no matter what. You seem to be a lot more worried about it than me, so why shouldn’t you be the one to stay dry? Besides, I have a change of clothes in my bag since I’m meeting up with my family for dinner after this. Take the coat, Dan.”

“But Phil-”

“Too late!” he sang, pulling his arm out of the sleeve. “I’m taking it off and I’m not going to put it back on until it’s time to leave. If you don’t take it then the poor coat will just sit here and be useless while we both get wet. Do you want my coat to feel that way, Dan?”

Dan giggled at his overreaction, but took the coat with a gentle smile. “Thanks, Phil. I mean it.”

“No problem,” Phil smiled back. “But now you do have to hold the flyers and stuff. Just shove them under your jacket so they don’t get wet.”

Dan nodded and took the papers. “Alright then, let’s do this.”

Act I Scene V

“Oh my god, Louise, it was amazing,” Dan gushed over the phone. He had tried texting Louise but he was way too excited and his fingers kept slipping and pretty much everything he wrote had more exclamation points than actual letters. “How do we have so much in common and I never knew it?”

“Maybe because you only ever stalked him instead of talking and sharing your interests?” she teasingly suggested.

“You can’t tell but I’m giving you a dirty look right now,” Dan pouted, tracing his finger over the numbers written on the Post-It note Phil had given him. “And there will be plenty of actual talking between the two of us now, since he gave me his number.”

Louise squealed across the line. She had never made it a secret that Phil wasn’t her first choice for Dan’s big crush, but she had to admit that the fact that Dan was so over the moon for him was precious, and anything that made Dan happy made her happy. “Oh my god, really? What happened?”

“Well, we had to go out to the gym to hang posters and since it was pouring I was complaining about my hair-”

“Like you always do.”

“Shut it. Anyway, he insisted that I used his jacket to keep dry and at the end of the day it was still raining so he told me to keep it and I could text him about returning it later,” Dan sighed happily, reliving every moment of the afternoon in perfect clarity. “Louise, it was amazing. He’s amazing.”

“Have you texted him yet?” Louise demanded. “You have to tell me everything when you do.”

“I don’t want to return his jacket yet,” Dan admitted. He hadn’t told Louise that it was warm and smelled like Phil and that was why he didn’t want to lose it but he was pretty sure she knew. “What if I text him and all he wants to talk about is getting his coat?”

Louise sighed and Dan knew she was her rolling her eyes. “You’re being ridiculous, you know that, right? Of course he doesn’t want to just talk about that. Giving someone your coat as an excuse to keep talking to someone is one of the oldest tricks in the book. I’m pretty sure it’s been a thing since coats were invented.”

“I don’t know, Louise,” Dan said, biting his thumb nail. “I mean, Phil’s just a really nice person. He was probably just giving me his coat because it was nice. He’s not really the type to play tricks like that.”

“Everyone play tricks, even if it’s subconscious,” Louise dismissed. Dan could almost see her nodding sagely. “He probably did give you the jacket because you needed it, but the phone number was just so the two of you can talk. If he really was only interested in the coat then he would have just set up a time to get it back when he gave it to you.”

“You really think so?” Dan asked nervously. “What if I make a fool of myself and he never speaks to me again?”

“Number one that won’t happen. Number two, even if it does are you really in any worse of a boat? It’s not like you were actually talking to him before this anyway.”

“You’re being super unhelpful and also the absolute worst.”

“You love it. Now text that lion loving nerd and make sure I’m your maid of honor at the wedding.”

“What do I even say?” Dan whined.

“Just introduce yourself, you complete dollop head. Just say ‘Hi, this is Dan!’”

Dan sighed dramatically, flopping back and extending out three of his long limbs. He winced when they all settled into that nice stretched feeling and quickly changed phone hands so he could do that last one as well. “Fine, I’ll do it as soon as I get off the phone with you.”

“Oh, well, in that case my mother has been calling me to come downstairs for about five minutes and I’m definitely not making this up so you have to text Phil.”

“Louise I hate you!”

“Love you, too!” she cackled, sending a couple kissing noises across the line before hanging up.

Dan groaned and glared at his phone for abandoning him, hoping that Louise would somehow be able to feel it. After a moment he sighed and pulled up messages and tapped “Compose”

To: Phil 5:44

hello! this is dan the guy u left your coat with this afternoon lol.

Dan closed the app to open YouTube, not expecting a response any time soon, but before he could finish pulling up his subscription box his phone buzzed.

From: Phil 5:47

Hi!! How was your walk home? Did you stay dry and everything? I would have given you a ride, but I was already late to meet my parents. I’m sorry. :(

Dan took a moment to breathe calmly but quickly gave up in favor of squealing in delight as he rolled back and forth, clutching his phone to his chest. He just had to tell Louise.

To: The Mum Friend 5:49

omg hes so nice. like he asked if i stayed dry on the way home and apologized for not driving me home himself #phillesterangelconfirmed

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:51

dw about it ^-^ i stayed pretty dry. yhanks to you i don’t look like a hobbit reject.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:54

Lol any Hobbit that rejects you is missing out on making their Hobbit village cuter than all the other ones. You can come join my elf city and we can be too tall together.

To: The Mum Friend 5:57

LOUISSE HE CALLERD ME CUTER IM DYING SEND HELPP

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:58

lets be honest wed both be loners. im too tall for the hobbits and ur too clumsy for the elves.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 6:00

Why must you crush my dreams Danyul? :’< I’m not that clumsy

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:02

i think the paint still stuck in my hair from where u knocked me into the art supplies in the prop room would beg to differ.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:04

Okay, I GUESS that’s a fair point. And hey, as long as we’re outcasts together that’s not too bad in my book. ^-^

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:04

my my phillip r u flirting with me?

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:05

That depends entirely on if it’s working :D Hey, by the way, what lunch do you have?

Dan frowned at the sudden topic change, but shook his head and went along with it for now.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 6:06

i have 2nd y?

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:07

You do? That’s the same one I have? How come I’ve never seen you? D:

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:08

probs because i sit with my friends and we try to avoid human interaction lol

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:10

Same, honestly. Do you think you and your friends would want to come and eat lunch with me and mine tomorrow? We usually sit out under the tree next to the front office.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:11

i am so sorry can i answer you in a sec my mum wants me

Dan took a deep breath, trying not to panic. He quickly dialed up Louise and waited with bated breath as it rang again and again and again and again and ag-

“Dan? What can-”

“HE ASKED ME TO EAT LUNCH WITH HIM TOMORROW!” Dan shouted before she could finish her greeting.

“Wait, hold on a minute. Who did what now?”

“Phil! He asked me to eat lunch with him tomorrow!” he repeated in a much quieter but no calmer tone. “Well, actually he asked me to ask all of you if you might be interested in eating lunch with his group tomorrow. What should I even say to that? ‘Yes, I’d like to eat lunch with you tomorrow and every following day for the rest of our lives’?”

“You could always just say you’ll ask,” she said with an underlying laugh. “I don’t see a problem with us sitting with them, though. All of us like meeting new people so it should be fun.”

“You mean it? Everything will be fine?”

“I’m sure of it, and if anyone says otherwise, I’ll wallop them on the head.”

“You’re the best, Louise.”

“I know it. Now go set up your lunch date already.” And with that the line clicked dead and Dan was once again left alone with his phone.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:14

sorry! my mum is v demanding sometimes T_T but yeah lunch tomorrow sounds great! all my friends like meeting new people so it should be lots of fun

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:16

Don’t worry about it! ^-^ So you want to just meet at the tree or in the lunchroom or what?

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:18

i think we can find our way to the tree so that should be fine ^-^ see u tomorrow!

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:20

It’s a date!

Dan gaped at his phone for a moment before calling Louise yet again to scream.

#phan #phanfiction #Phanfic #Phanfluff #high school au #slow burn #friends to lovers #light angst #mutual pining #Bee Writes

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likeadove · 7 years ago

Text

fic: come back and sing to me (2/2)

Read part one here

Title: Come Back and Sing to Me

Pairing: Reylo

Summary: A Force bond is fairly inconvenient when neither participant wants anything to do with the other. Post-TLJ.

FFN

AO3

Kylo Ren's anger is shifting.

It is still there, pulsing and coiling inside of him, but…

He can't bring himself to direct it at her anymore.

Rey is alive. Her light still hums softly in the back of his head, dimmed and weakened. But she is getting stronger each passing hour. He feels a flash of pride at her strength, but a stab of apprehension as well. He never wants to feel that level of terror again. If her light goes out in the back of his head forever, then a part of him also dies. He doesn't know why he knows this so firmly, but their link has etched itself inside his very bones. He feels a rush of echoing warmth from her, from wherever she is.

Why is the Force connecting us?

The Force has not always been his friend, but he has never doubted it. He would not start doing so now.

Besides, hadn't he told Rey to let the past die? And here he is, still clinging to the dead legacies of dead Masters and dead grandfathers. Let the past die. Kill it if you have to.

He'd murdered Snoke. What else could he kill?

Rey's leg aches for weeks, despite being patched up as best it could be. She walks around with a barely there limp and has taken to pouring over the ancient Jedi texts she smuggled from Ahch-To. One of the smaller editions holds passages upon passages on how to heal oneself using very specific Light techniques. But the language is dreadfully old-fashioned and difficult to interpret. Needless to say, Rey is not making much headway with her leg.

She has also scoured the Jedi texts for any mention of "Force-bonds" and found nothing.

But none of that matters anymore though, because, aside from her leg, she feels so much better. The color has returned to her cheeks. She devours every meal. She trains vigorously every day. Her arms and legs and middle are hardening with muscle and finally, finally she is sleeping. She sees him every night in her dreams now.

As she exits her quarters and makes her way to the mess hall so that she can start her day, Ben's shadow nudges her. She smiles, humming to herself, and lets her light answer in kind. And then he fades, but not abruptly like before. He recedes gently and slowly, and she knows that she can call him back so very easily.

But she doesn't.

The bond has grown sharper and more intense now that they've both hesitantly embraced it. At any moment she can reach out and feel what he's feeling, if he reciprocates. At any moment she can send a thought to him, can communicate with him, if he reciprocates. At any moment she can send him her own thoughts, her own feelings, if he reciprocates. And lately he's been reciprocating. A lot.

And so has Rey.

A slow but desperate determination is building up inside of her. There is still conflict in Ben Solo. She feels it potently now, whenever he reaches out to her. His confusion and bloodlust and loneliness fill her own head sometimes when he is not being careful.

Rey remembers her vision from so long ago, a future she had buried because it had been a supposed lie, a supposed poison leaked into her mind by Snoke. It is her and Ben standing side by side, her glowing with light, him shrouded with shadows. But her hand is clutched tightly in his. And they are at peace.

She clenches her fist, resolute. Snoke had been wrong. Snoke had lied.

Rey had just reached the mess hall, shoulders squared and ready for the day ahead of her, when General Organa steps into her path, Poe Dameron and a very guilty looking Finn flanking her.

"Rey." Leia Organa's tone is cheery and respectful, and Rey feels herself calm a little. Leia smiles. "Grab your breakfast and then come join us in the council room."

Rey swallows then nods quickly. "Of course." Leia turns away, Poe right behind her. Finn lingers.

"How could you?" she growls. She had trusted him, told him her biggest secret—

"I'm sorry Rey." And she can tell by the emotion in his tone that he really is. "But I'm scared for you."

She scowls and brushes roughly past him, ignoring the line for rations and following after Leia and Poe instead. Her heart is pounding at the upcoming confrontation—

And then Ben is there. Something is wrong. His shadow probes at her, relentlessly demanding an answer.

Rey resists the urge to groan out loud. Now is not the time. And then she gently pushes back against his him. He recedes, understanding she isn't in danger and with the smug air of someone knowing they're going to find out eventually.

Rey sucks in a deep breath, attempts to clear her mind as much as possible, and follows Leia and Poe into the private council chamber, Finn right behind her. General Organa sits at the head of the small table before noticing that Rey is already there. "No breakfast?" the General says, raising a concerned eyebrow.

"Not hungry," Rey grumbles, already feeling dread work its way up her spine. She has held onto this secret for so long, and part of her is loath to share it.

Leia doesn't look surprised. She gestures for Rey to sit down then says, "Finn, close the door would you?"

Finn obeys and Rey sits.

Leia gives her a long look that manages to be both curious and cautious. "Let's not cut corners here Rey. We all know why you're here. You can be honest with me. What's going on?"

And Rey, knowing there is no use in continuing to withhold the truth, sighs. "It all started back on Ahch-To—"

Finally finished telling her story from beginning to end, Rey is met with three equally stunned faces.

Finn and Poe both explode at the same time.

"You didn't tell me that he killed Snoke for you—"

"General, we need to get her off this base—"

"You're sure there's nothing in the texts—"

"I'm sorry Rey, but you're a complete and total liability—"

All General Organa has to do to shut up both men is raise her hand. Rey can't quite decipher the emotions rolling around on her face. Anger that Rey hadn't been honest until now? Hope that maybe they can get through this war after all?

"Poe," she says, eyes never leaving Rey's, "call Maz."

A few minutes later Maz Kanata blinks at them sleepily, her small eyes looking massive behind her multi-layered spectacles. "General Organa!" she exclaims when she stops blinking, all drowsiness gone. She sounds delighted. "How can I help you?"

Leia's answering smile is a little sad. "I was actually hoping you could tell Rey about your experience with the Force-bond you had."

The whole room quiets, and Rey, Finn, and Poe's eyes go wide.

Maz looks surprised for approximately two seconds before fixating her gaze on Rey. "Oh? What would you like to know?"

Rey's mouth opens and closes a few times, the months and months worth of unending questions she'd built up about this particular subject instantly leaving her mind.

Finn leans in and catches Maz's attention. "What is it?"

"It's exactly what it sounds like, you dummy. It's a bond through the Force, through two Force-sensitive individuals. They can feel each other's emotions, thoughts—"

Rey's brain has finally slowed down enough for her to form words. "Yes, but why does it start? How does it end? What does it mean?"

Maz is quiet for a moment. "There have been many debates about how one could start, but personally, I think it starts with two Force users feeling the exact same thing at the exact same time."

A memory hits Rey, sudden and unbidden.

Two lightsabers cross, snow falling all around them. Kylo Ren has her bent back as he pushes her toward the edge of a cliff. She can feel the heat and energy buzzing from both of their blades. Her foot slips a half inch. Her mind is going a thousand lightyears a minute, adrenaline and stress pumping through every part of her. Can't die must win fight have to save Finn. Kylo Ren grits his teeth and grunts and both of their arms are shaking and there's a feeling she gets as she continues pushing back against him, a feeling coming from somewhere deep inside of her, so small amongst the chaos of battle and yet so sincere—

I wish I didn't have to hurt you.

The room has gone quiet again. Rey clears her throat. "How do you make it…?" She trails off, suddenly feeling as if she has no more air to speak with.

But Maz Kanata didn't make it to be over a thousand years old by being stupid. "Stop it? You don't. One of you would have to die for the link to be severed. And then part of yourself dies with them. It'll be like an open wound inside your very being." A slight pause. "I should know."

Leia speaks up this time. "Can the bond be manipulated?"

The old pirate queen taps her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps, if someone strong in the Dark Side sensed a Force bond, they could employ it to their whims. Not for very long, however. Soul-bonds are nearly impossible to corrupt. They come from the Light."

And then, completely unbidden, Rey's eyes fill with tears. Maz gives her a kind smile. "I told you once, Rey of Jakku, that the belonging you seek laid not behind you, but ahead." Then she snorts. "Bet you didn't think you'd find it with your enemy, huh?" Chuckling, she presses a button and her hologram form disappears.

Rey sniffs and subtly rubs at her eyes, embarrassed at being so emotional. Half of her wants to reach for Ben, to show him everything that she's just learned. The other half, the shy half that feels very young right now, wants to crawl in a giant hole and never come out.

General Organa stands and gestures toward the door. "Alright gentleman, out."

Neither of them protest. Finn gives Rey's shoulder a comforting squeeze on his way out, Poe a sad half-smile as they leave the room.

"I'm sorry," Rey croaks out, not able to meet the General's eye.

"For what?" Leia asks. She takes Rey's hands in hers and gives them a gentle squeeze. "When I woke up this morning my son was dead. And now, and now for the first time in a long time I feel hope. Hope for Ben." She leans forward. Her eyes… Rey notices how they soften like Ben's when they look at her. "He's tethered to a light now." The General stands and pulls Rey along with her, face beseeching. "He's tethered to you, Rey. You must go to him. You must try again—"

"No." And suddenly it's two years ago and Rey is remembering how he held his hand out to her, how he offered her everything. How tempted she had been, however briefly. She might not have left with him, but she had failed to bring him to her side. He might still be conflicted, and everything inside her might demand that she seek him out, but she could not survive failure like that again. It would break her heart.

Leia's mouth firms a little, suddenly looking more like a General again and less like Ben's mother. "Rey, I know you must be daunted, but this could be what—"

"No." Rey's voice is small but steely. She drops the General's hands and takes a step toward the door, gesturing with a finger so that it swings open with the Force. "I'm sorry General. I can't. Even if you order me to… I just can't."

Not yet.

And then she leaves and heads straight for the Falcon, ignoring Finn, who had been waiting outside the door for her.

She spends the rest of the day bent over Anakin Skywalker's broken lightsaber. She still has no way to fix it. Just like she had no way to permanently fix Ben Solo.

Kylo Ren has convinced a whole squadron of TIE fighter pilots to desert.

It was taxing, of course, manipulating so many minds over such a small space of time. But the absence of Snoke's whispers and the presence of Rey's light has been making him stronger, making every vein in his body spark with power. His cheeks are no longer sunken and the dark circles under his eyes have faded. He eats his meals with renewed vigor. And he sleeps, he finally sleeps. Every night he dreams of her.

Right now Hux is furious. His perfectly slicked back hair starts to become undone as he runs about the command bridge, screaming for the traitors to be caught and hauled back for swift execution. The subordinates under him scurry to do his bidding.

And then Hux turns to Kylo. He opens his mouth as if to say something but then snaps it shut, thinking better of it. But there is something brewing in the General's intelligent gaze, something malicious and mutinous.

And then Kylo Ren realizes that there is less fear in the room. Far less then there should be. He watches the First Order admirals and commanders and captains scramble to obey Hux's frantic orders, their gazes constantly switching between their work and their furious General. Very few glance in the direction of Kylo Ren, and when they do it is with an air of scorn, not dread.

He might be the Supreme Leader, but there is no one in this room that he truly leads.

It bothers him less than it should.

I can feel the conflict inside of you.

Kylo Ren hears the words she'd spoken to him on that elevator, and he almost reaches for her in his head so that he can truly hear her voice but—

Shame twists inside of him. Deep shame. Here he stands, a throne upstairs that belongs to him and him only and he just…

Doesn't fucking care anymore. About ruling, about how the Resistance and thusher have managed to stay out of his grasp for nearly two years, about Vader and his legacy and—

He can feel the Light taking root inside of him again. It rests alongside the Darkness in him, both sides of the Force ebbing and flowing within him like gentle ocean waves. Never fully Dark but never fully Light. Balanced.

Kylo Ren just wants to start moving forward. And the only future ahead of him worth anything at all is alongside her.

Rey and Rose are deep in tech talk during some down time when Finn sprints up to them, chest heaving.

"What's with you?" Rose asks with a raised eyebrow, a hint of fondness and curiosity in her voice.

Finn bends over and puts his hands on his knees, attempting to catch his breath. "Someone…from within this First Order…is leaking plans…coordinates…weapon blueprints-"

Both young women are instantly on their feet as Finn launches into a more official explanation.

And Rey reaches for that shadow, pushing with all her might, demanding and ferocious. He answers quickly. What?

Rey concentrates, centers her breathing and then lets him look through her eyes, at Finn excitedly using his hands to speak "—we might have enough man power now to catch them off guard! We know when and where they're getting their supplies, and Poe wants to dispatch a team to go and—"

"How to we know this information is good?" Rose asks smartly. "It could easily be a trick."

Oh, the information is good. His voice is deep and soothing and pleased in her head, and Rey isn't sure she's ever heard genuine amusement come from him before.

"The info is good," she tells her friends curtly. They both hush up instantly, eyes going a little wide, as if they're realizing the implication of her words.

Rey turns and sprints away from the corridor, shouting for the General. She feels the last of her fear of failure slip away from her for good. I'm coming for you, her light sings at him through their link. Ben's amusement fades and he recedes, quiet. But Rey doesn't care and she doesn't reach back out for him. She's coming for Ben Solo and she will drag him out of there kicking and screaming if she has to.

She finally feels confident that he might let her. For sure this time.

Like hell Kylo Ren is going to allow her to board his ship when it's in this particular condition.

He needs to take care of some of the riffraff first.

He calls an emergency meeting with all the leadership of the First Order in the middle of a night cycle. All the higher ranks that served under Snoke, that pushed for Starkiller Base, that have personal stakes in the violence and horror the First Order has sewed across the galaxy this past decade, he summons them all.

The room is filled with the sour taste of irritation and misgivings, and it is Hux that speaks first. "Ren, what is the meaning of this? Have you considered the hour—"

Kylo breaks Hux's jaw and nose before lobbing off his head with his lightsaber. That's when the screaming starts.

Some try to fight back, and others rush for the door. He keeps them all locked inside this room with the Force.

Captain Phasma rushes up to him, her blows furious and harsh. He stops her with his right hand, his left holding several blaster bolts aloft. A flick of his wrist and the bolts go flying toward new marks. He locks onto the Captain's mind, squeezing with his right fist. "You will fall on your own blade." And Captain Phasma whirls her massive sword around and stabs herself with swift, brutal efficiency.

It's easy to pick the rest off one by one after that. He enjoys it. The Darkness is surging up all around him, fueling every final blow. But the Light is there too, never letting his vision get too red, reminding him that each death is serving a purpose. This doesn't seem like murder. Not to him. It seems like justice.

The Resistance shows up ready to make a final stand.

All they're met with is escape pods and shuttles streaming from the First Order's main ship.

"What the hell happened here?" Poe asks, he and everyone important within the Resistance ranks watching from the main command bridge. All heads swivel toward Rey. Everyone knows now.

Ben's shadow is small in the back of her head. And sluggish, as if he'd just gone through a massive spike of adrenaline and is coming back down. She nudges him and his sigh echoes all throughout her head. She gets pictures, clips of action. There is the powerful thrum of his lightsaber and shrieks of utter terror.

There is blood. On the walls the ceiling the floor the equipment—

And Rey reminds everyone in the Resistance as well as herself that even though she is mostly Light there is still Darkness inside her too. She tells them that Ben Solo has performed a coup and eradicated most of the First Order higher ups, including General Hux. The few leaders he didn't execute have abandoned ship, with the rest of the Army in confused shambles.

She delivers all this news with a satisfied smile.

The bridge is quiet for awhile until, ever the leader, Poe steps forward. "Should we try to rendezvous, then?" He is asking Rey, and she can sense his fear. His apprehension at the frightening, hulking, enigma of a man waiting for them on the other ship. When she reaches out briefly with the Force she can feel that everyone is afraid.

Everyone except her.

Kylo Ren feels how near she is. He is up in the Supreme Leader's throne room, a room he has barely used since coming into control. And after today he suspects that he'll never have need for it again. But still, it seems fitting for their reunion to be here. He sits at the foot of the throne, bicep bleeding and sleeve torn from a blaster, waiting.

They are communing with one another through the bond, her light and his shadow so deeply entrenched in the other that it is like he is walking down his own halls with her.

He watches through her gaze as she stops at the nearly destroyed command bridge. As she takes in the bodies, the dead faces frozen in petrified screams. He watches her speak to his mother, watches Leia Organa's face go pale at all the blood, at the smell of death. He's prepared to tell Rey that she'll probably have to defy orders and sneak away when—

My orders are to find you. Rey leaves the destruction of the bridge behind, following his Force signature toward the elevator. That room? Really?

He starts, not bothering to keep his surprise from her. Surely they wouldn't want her coming near him after everything he'd just done?

On the contrary. And she gives him a memory, and oh, it is of his mother. "He's tethered to a light now. He's tethered to you, Rey. You must go to him."

As the elevator takes Rey up and up and up, bringing her ever closer to him, she floods his whole head with her light, with her warmth and her hope and everything that is good. And she shows him, finally, what she's learned about their bond.

Kylo Ren is bent over Rey, their lightsabers clashing as snow falls all around him. Hot blood trickles from his wounded side down his leg but he can't think about that now. He has to keep his focus straight. Win the fight take the lightsaber get off this base. His vision is going blurry as he pushes his strength into their locked blades, adrenaline and Dark power alone keeping him from passing out. But underneath all the stress of battle and the throbbing pain from his wound and oh god oh god oh god I've murdered my father, there is—

I wish I didn't have to hurt you.

When Rey finally steps into that red, red room she stops, suddenly frozen in place by that look he is giving her. A look that demands that she keep coming, how dare she stop moving—

She runs to him, suddenly overcome with how long they've been apart, with how long its been since she's seen his face in something beyond just thoughts and dreams and memories. He has his gloves off by the time she reaches him so that he can feel the soft skin of her neck and her cheeks and how her hair is so smooth—

He bends down to meet her and touches his forehead against hers, breathing her in.

Poe Dameron and General Leia stand at the entrance, both totally unnoticed. Poe had reached for his weapon out of sheer habit at seeing Kylo Ren, but Leia places her hand over his and squeezes firmly, shaking her head. The older woman can feel the hum of the Force here, powerful and potent and…

The scavenger girl suddenly throws her arms around her son's neck and Kylo Ren (or Ben or a mix of both) brings her close, pulling Rey off her feet a little in the process.

And Leia is able to put a name to it then, what she is feeling through the Force. Balance. And the General knows that there will be chaos and ramifications coming their way in the next month, week, day, hour…

But for now, there is peace.

I was lost, I was lost Crossed lines I shouldn't have crossed I was lost, oh yeah

Sing it, please, please, please Come back and sing to me, to me, me Come on and sing it out, now, now

“In My Place” by Coldplay

A/N: First off, thank you everyone for your kind words about part one! Was really cool to hear from some of my old readers that have seen me through several fandoms and ships. I hope this delivered a satisfying conclusion! Writing Kylo brutally murdering the First Order leadership brought me more joy then perhaps it should have. Anyway, this is it for this story, but I have plenty more Reylo coming up, including a couple of one-shots and a WIP, god help me.

If you liked let me know!

#bethany writes #reylo #reylo fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #rey #kylo ren/ben solo #the last jedi spoilers

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