#only five hours though so hopefully it won’t be too bad!!

[balladof-bignothing]

first proper shift today and i want to throw up…

[minkdelovely]

love and power

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prelude

“ask for forgiveness,

never permission.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags: acid rain wound, cannibals living their best lives in cannibal town, slow burn eventual: smut, violence, toxic themes

word count: 1.7k

hello world! i currently have alastor brain rot and felt compelled to jump back into writing fan fiction. i’m a little rusty and i’m not sure how many parts there will be; i won’t deny that this is purely self-indulgent but i hope you enjoy all the same :)

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

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Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was worse.

Thoughts of your grandmother rose to your mind, despite how desperately you tried to push them down. “Hell is the absence of God,” she would always say after one of her famous rants. A warning you perhaps would have heeded, had it been coming from a place of love instead of moral superiority. 

You had seen her on the streets of Hell a few times now, always sure to avoid catching her attention. The warm pleasure that bloomed in your chest was too precious to give up, despite knowing how good it would feel to rub her fate in her face. A lot of good all those Sunday mornings had done her, haughty bitch! You wondered how often your grandmother laid awake at night, desperate to know how she had ended up here. A wicked grin spread across your lips, revealing milky-pink fangs.

It was hard not to imagine the look your father would have given you if you could tell him she was here. He would definitely have scolded you, but you knew a small part of him would be amused. If calling her a bad grandmother was putting it lightly, she was an even worse mother-in-law. Hopefully you would never get the chance to tell him; Mother was waiting for him in Heaven, after all. And things should be much easier for him now, all things considered. Leaving him alone hadn’t been part of the plan, so all you could do was tell yourself that it had been worth it. Someday you would believe it.

Grandmother was right though, loathe as you were to admit it, and the feeling of loss burned through you every morning when you awoke. Every night, you dreamed of rain; the sound of it, the smell of it, the feeling of it coming down on you in the middle of the family garden. Oh, how you missed the garden. The dark, wet dirt. Blue puffs of hydrangea against stark-white azaleas, your mother’s coveted yellow roses. The Spanish Moss hanging like phantom sails off the branches of the huge oak tree in the corner, where your father had placed a bench and made a small pond. You would sit under that tree for hours lost in a book, listening to the sounds of the garden.

The fire and brimstone you could endure. It was the way everything else was twisted here that was grueling. As if feeling your lament, a drop of acid rain hit your window, quickly morphing into a full-blown storm. A frustrated growl erupted from you and you rolled onto your stomach, burying your head under your pillow and said a silent prayer to whatever force would grant mercy on your roof. You couldn’t afford to get it fixed again. The prayer had been answered just a moment after the rain stopped, when a drop of it fell from the ceiling and onto your pale, unsuspecting calf, your mattress absorbing the scream of pain that tore through your chest.

As the acid made its way through your leg, and eventually your mattress, all you could do was sob. Eternity… This was eternity. 

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If this morning had been good, the day could only now be considered grand.

There was really nothing quite like a post-rain stroll through Cannibal Town, witnessing the misfortune of partially-dissolved sinners who had been caught in the deluge being consumed on the streets by the lively, ever-hungry inhabitants. Alastor would never tire of this jovial bunch that called this part of the Pentagram home, reveling in the sound of screams, the crunching of bone, the almost-lewd and animalistic grunts of feasting.

Were Rosie not expecting him for tea, he might have allowed himself to join in on the fun. Alas, his only solace was that Rosie never served anything less than superb, being the excellent hostess that she is.

He was quite intrigued by her invitation to join her alone, which meant that this likely wasn’t anything to do with donating a small army of cannibals to aid in the fight against the Angels. Indeed, Charlie’s presence would be required once it was time to cash that favor in.

Not that he didn’t enjoy a casual visit (as casual a visit between Overlords could be), he couldn’t help but wonder. Thinking a few steps ahead was a must if one was going to thrive in Hell, and well, it was no secret that Alastor was doing a pretty fine job at that, all things considered. He began to whistle, earning a few gory smiles from cannibals who stopped mid-meal to enjoy the tune. A true honor.

Rosie opened the door for him before he even had the chance to knock, the “Closed for Rain” sign clattering against the glass as she cooed. “Alastorrr! Come in, come in, before it starts raining again.”

As if on queue, a roll of thunder tore through the clouds, drawing a cheer from the denizens of Cannibal Town in anticipation for round two. 

“Rosie, my dear, always an honor and a privilege to be deemed worthy of your company,” Alastor said, bowing his head as Rosie feigned a blush, leading him to the parlor where they would be taking their tea.

The usual pleasantries were exchanged between sips of tea, coffee, and candied organs, which Alastor forced himself to consume through sheer courtesy. It was all part of the art of visiting, one he quite enjoyed, and he would never shame his mother’s memory with bad manners. They had just finished a plate of finger sandwiches when Rosie leaned in slightly, the conspiring grin on her face letting him know that it was, at last, time for business.

“You’re always so good to indulge me, Alastor. It doesn’t go unnoticed,” she said, grinning as she motioned to a maid to come grab their empty plates. “I’m sure you’ve been dying to know why I asked you over here this afternoon.”

“Oh, Rosie, it’s purely selfish! You know how hard it is to find good company in this godforsaken place. I’m more than grateful to receive your hospitality,” he said with a trademark smile and flick of the wrist, leaning back in his chair as the maid cleared the table.

She had just turned to leave with their plates when the smile on his face nearly faltered. Was that… almond he smelled? It had been so long, but he was fairly certain it was. There was an underlying trace of blood, though that was common enough around here. But almond? It was too pleasant for Hell.

Rosie’s eyes darkened to match her grin, not missing the twitch of Alastor’s mouth. She knew he’d have been able to smell it. It seemed that so far only Hellborn could pick it up, but what would be the fun in letting him know that? 

“Divine, isn’t she? A walking pastry, but not much of a talker. I like to bring her around whenever a room needs some pizzazz! She would’ve been eaten alive had I not taken her in,” Rosie whispered cheekily, as the maid returned with a fresh kettle and a gelatin mold for dessert. Rosie, not missing a beat once the tray had been set down, turned to her with a smile. “Thank you dear, you can leave now. I’ll ring the bell if we need anything else.”

The maid gave a silent curtsy and left the room as instructed, her sweet scent clinging to the air. Since coming to Hell, he took pleasure in the taste of bloody iron, the bite of black coffee. But in life… Memories of marzipan and frangipane tarts swam in his mind. And hadn’t Mother used almonds in her cherry pie crust? It took Alastor all he had not to drool, unsettled by the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth. Ages had passed since he last thought of such sweet things. He cleared his throat with as much grace as he could muster. Rosie only grinned.

“Well, she’s certainly new, so I suppose it’s not surprising she doesn’t talk much. It’s quite easy to tell when a sinner is… adjusting. So morose! You’re very gracious to have taken her on.” Alastor took a sip of coffee, desperate to get that almond smell out of his nostrils. 

“We both seem to be rather gracious these days, don’t you think?”

And there it was.

Rosie sat back in her chair and crossed her legs as she continued. “I was actually wondering if perhaps she might fare better in that hotel you’re running. Don’t get me wrong, she smells incredible, but fuck does she suck the air out of a room once the novelty wears off. She was scaring away clients, and you know it’s pretty bad if cannibals are uneasy around you for Christ’s sake, which is why I had her start working back here, but…”

Alastor had to resist gripping his knee, putting all his effort into maintaining a pleasant face. He had expected to be asked for a favor of sorts, but never did he imagine that Rosie wanted him to take on an employee. She’s had sinners sign contracts for little less than a new parasol, let alone a job. There was something more to this.

And beyond being an air freshener, what good was she for, really? He could deal with quiet, but to have to put up with yet another sulky face! What he had done to deserve it, he didn’t know.

But he knew there wasn’t really a choice other than to take the poor creature into his charge. Rosie was an alley he deeply cherished, and he was already in her debt for the help she had provided just weeks ago. This was no doubt the first part of paying that debt back, a sign of goodwill. Not every deal was beneficial from the start; still, Alastor wouldn’t outright accept the offer. That was part of the fun.

“Well we already have a maid,” Alastor said gently, “but after the recent renovation, we are anticipating more sinners to check in. Not that I doubt Niffty’s abilities, but I suppose she could do with some help when business picks up. How long were you thinking of lending her to our cause?”

Rosie waved her hand. “Lend? Oh, honey, if you’re willing to take her, she’s yours. I’ve got plenty of helping hands, but it does me no good to have such a wet blanket hanging around. There’s just the matter of…,” Rosie trailed off as she reached into her purse, retrieving what Alastor already knew she had been grabbing for, “…her contract.”

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[sleeptowns]

a year (or so) of fics, in retrospect

once every handful of years i remember to look back at the collection of projects i’ve finished recently and to simulate a critique as if i’m an art school student — and also as if i’m the haunted teacher’s assistant who wants to be gentle on the prof’s behalf but actually hates your work and also i am the other students who have been sitting there for seven hours straight and can’t offer much more except say, “it’s fine.” a one-man critique day, all parts played by me. 

sometimes i do this and the last period of writing has been drier than a pizza slice left in the winter sun, but this time i’m lucky that these last couple of years have been the closest i’ve had to a writing pax romana.

with that said, i’m not entirely sure how valid i am whenever i think these days that my writing has gone through some drastic changes in the last year; i’m not even sure if it’s accurate to call any of it growth, though i’m aware it’s the sort of thing i won’t have a clear perspective on until a few years after the fact. but i do know that i’m lucky to have so many works to act as markers for different periods of my writing, and while it’s far from a sure method of evaluation, there are parts there that i’m able to at least assess, if not outright measure. in the last year or so, my fics have started mutating towards — not really a separate sort of output than my previous ones, but definitely older somehow. older and quite different because of it: stylistic choices i would have steered clear of before, failed and/or lacklustre genre explorations, even relationship dynamics that were previously unfamiliar territory. my most recent fic feels like a culmination of all my attempts at wrestling with my writing in the ring, and now that it’s a few weeks behind me and i get to look at it with fresh(er) eyes and accept that it’s my favourite child (i’m sorry flls... you’re not too far behind), it’s also reminded me that i have a now overdue fic roundup to write. 

tangentially speaking, it’s interesting that you never really hear about self-taught writers. self-taught artists, yes, and self-taught musicians, but never quite self-taught writers. i don’t exactly purport to have taught myself everything i know about writing, and i know you can’t really be self-anything as a writer; what i lack in technique and finesse learned from proper writing classes, teachers, and/or workshops, i owe to the media i’ve consumed, good and bad, as well as to the creators i love and to all the thoughtful readers i’ve had over the years. if i’m self-taught in any way, then the self as a teacher was reared by countless others who have honed in me a limitless capacity to be an observer to stories, mine and all else. 

this post is just a roundup of all my fics from december 2020 to january 2023, including only the ones with enough substantial content to write about, which disqualifies a lot of the fics i left at one or five scenes max but qualifies the ones i abandoned at one chapter. just a little something for me to reference as i figure out where to take my writing next and hopefully move towards some kind of ✨ growth ✨ lol 

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FIRST LOVE, LATE SPRING december 2020 to march 2021, jujutsu kaisen trial element | dual pov romance, multimedia (?)

i covered a bit of the early chapters and conceptualization for flls in a separate post, but as i was reflecting on how to write a continuation, it occurred to me that if there’s a clear before and after to the current state of my writing, then the first portion of flls chapter five is where i’ll find it. 

when i was drafting my 58393th version of that chapter — nothing was working, none of it was the right vibe i needed, most of them too detached or too on-the-nose but never the perfect middle — i happened upon trying second person pov by accident. i’m not the biggest fan of second person (though to be fair, i don’t think anyone is) but by that point i was so sick of writing and rewriting this one section and not getting anywhere that i wondered if i should just lean all the way into that disgust. why not do something i hated entirely? and act of desperation as that was, the moment i started writing in curt, nauseating second person, i knew it was the right choice. 

the thing about writing flls!yuuji is that he felt both alive and unfamiliar. flls!megumi was easier to understand, even if he was trickier to write — but yuuji, i had to really work to get to know. one thing about him that i knew to be careful about from the very beginning of jjk is that it would be too surface level to think this boy is an extrovert. yuuji is usually painted as an energetic, sunny person, and i don’t think he’s not that, but there’s something about yuuji that’s also very internal and almost innately… isolated? i don’t know if that’s necessarily the right word, but there’s a lot about him as a character that’s out of view or grasp, which ironically i find people taking at face value. in flls, he required a lot more balance than megumi, who was a dam waiting to be relieved of its duties. flls!yuuji knows who or what he is — how could he not, when he’s never had a choice but to be this person, this kid who lost his grandpa, this kid who needs love but doesn’t know how to ask for it because he doesn’t even know there are forms of it he can ask for? 

how to write a character like that? how to nudge someone who doesn’t reveal even at his most revealing towards the christmas eve fight i had set up in the beginning of flls chapter one? back before chapter six of flls came out, i saw a lot of people argue that megumi and yuuji just needed to communicate, and yes, of course they do, but i was also very adamant as i started chapter five that the real tragedy about them is that communication will do nothing in the end. even if they magically became master communicators about their needs and wants and insecurities, none of it will change the fact that neither of them are ready to love and be loved by the other person. at least not in any way that constitutes a relationship that feels like love. 

i think that’s the key to writing the relationship in flls. it was never a question that they loved each other, and how much. never. this is probably the first piece of ~growth i appreciated about flls. it would be easy to write a romance where the main conflict is them not knowing the other loved them back, but flls got rid of that quite early. i left no room for doubt — or at least this is the hope — that flls!itfs loved each other in a way no one else would be able to compare to. they’re it for each other. but if it had been as simple as portraying that, then i never would have finished flls at all, and it definitely wouldn’t have been my longest fic at the time. 

instead — what if it was a given that they loved each other, and it still wasn’t enough? what kind of story can we spin about that? what kind of questions and answers can we find?

that’s actually such a pretentious way to frame that, but the fact of the matter is that i needed to not waste space now that we’re five chapters in. this is the beginning of the end. how do we shift gears and take the tone of the entire story along with it? i don’t know if there’s something about second person pov that’s just inherently full of dread, but it did quite a bit of work in chapter five. it felt disembodying for me as a writer, and i could only hope the same for readers. i was really, really worried some people will give up reading altogether thinking all of chapter five will be in second person, but i didn’t want to compromise. it was going to be second person for most of their real relationship or nothing: vaguely dissociative, intensely drained, with no room to actually enjoy being each other’s boyfriend. the main challenge was to not go from zero to a hundred in a snap. i had the room to do so in only one chapter, but i had to find a way to keep a tight rein on the pace or else the whole fic will fail. 

there also had to be love. and longing. and a desperation to make it work. i think that was yuuji in a nutshell — someone desperate to make it work, whatever this thing is. that’s what constitutes his strengths and his weaknesses, in canon and in flls. i wanted to find a way to make that palpable to a reader the way it was palpable to me while writing yuuji in second person. somewhere along making sure to tether myself to him by knowing what pieces of media he’d reference (high school musical and fullmetal alchemist) and his life outside of megumi (work, basketball, tea with nanami, skateboarding), i had to also drown with yuuji in the hope that the reader would follow. chapter three afforded me the luxury of only examining yuuji from the omniscience of a writer writing in third person — i could dismantle him through the therapy scene, could show myself and the reader a way to understand him, but i could not take us there to where he is. 

i don’t know how successful the second person pov was, ultimately, though i’d be lying if i said it wasn’t what i thought was truly best at the time. it probably wasn’t that creative to anyone but me, but it gave me a nudge towards different ways to explore… vibes. atmosphere, maybe, is the more formal word for it. if not for the second person pov choice in flls, i wouldn’t have been nudged towards kamo’s newsletter to act as the midway point of the story, the last palate cleanser i’ll allow myself and the reader, and i never would have written please let me love you forever and days of brutalism and hairpin turns the way i did. i owe a lot to that tiny but crucial choice, as does flls as a whole. everything that followed that section — the fight, the aftermath of the fight, the breakup — relied on it to make themselves work, and it’s funny (and valuable to note) how it’s something as seemingly inconsequential as a pov choice that set the tone. 

especially because there’s nothing special, really, about those following scenes. the christmas eve fight, megumi’s conversation in the car with geto, the break-up itself — all of it followed my standard flow of dialogue. sure, there’s more tension when you’re writing an argument, let alone when writing scenes that will inevitably lead to a break-up, but all scenes, particularly dialogue, have to feel fraught with some kind of energy and inevitable anyway. for the remainder of chapter five and six, i just coasted on the tone set up by the beginning of chapter five, and that’s knowledge that has served me quite well since. atmosphere goes a long, long way, and with my writing style, a healthy balance between dialogue and introspection will take me the rest of the way to the finish line. the part of flls that i’ve heard people find the most heartbreaking were also its simplest. all of chapter six is dedicated to one wedding, and chapter seven to one evening. i wish i could say there was a trick there, that i agonized over how to write such important scenes, but my personal takeaway is that there is no trick. the point is that you get the story to a point where those scenes write themselves; there’s nowhere else for the flow to go, and geto’s gentle unpacking of megumi, the last few scenes before megumi and yuuji break up, and the bittersweet reunion after two necessary years — i can only hope they carried a sense of “this is the only way it could have gone” the way they did for me. geto doesn’t tell megumi anything we don’t already know from earlier chapters, if only just now put into words. megumi and yuuji also don’t tell each other anything, in the breakup scene and the getting back together sections, that we haven’t already gleaned from them. from the moment kamo’s newsletter ended and we headed into act two — everything was just wrapping up what i left for myself.  

it’s worth noting that i did try to complicate the final chapter a bit. i tried a split pov between yuuji and megumi at first, as a way to finally reconcile their two perspectives, but that felt too cheesy. i tried an outing to nagoya for nobara’s birthday, tried to divide the pov amongst the people in their lives (junpei, nanami, nobara, etc), and even to do my usual cyclical structure of starting with the same image we did in chapter two, this time in yuuji’s funabashi apartment — but those all felt too on the nose. i trusted my flls readers. maybe that’s what all it came down to. i trusted them to know these people, and this story, and i didn’t want to do too much and compromise that trust. and in the end, i would argue, returning to simplicity made the story what it was. 

something i love to think about is how to explain my fics to others. i know it’s been said a lot that the ao3 tagging system has convinced a mini generation of writers that tags and names of tropes are all you need to pitch/be pitched a story, and i wholeheartedly agree. or i might just be terrible at advertising my work, with an obnoxious aversion to learning how to do it better to boot, but to be fair, i think my premises are all just as boring as they are ridiculous. flls is a college au with two friends with benefits turned fake boyfriends turned real boyfriends turned exes. that’s it. there’s nothing else in the plot but that. yet it’s a lot more to me than that, and sometimes that’s all you have when you send a story out into the world. the knowledge that it was briefly yours, and now it isn’t, but that doesn’t at all devalue what you’ve taken away from spending time with it. 

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US april 2021, jujutsu kaisen trial element | short form, childhood friends

this is one of a handful of attempts at writing a trope i don’t love all that much, inspired largely by the atmosphere in “horatio” by t.j klune. i was very conflicted about this fic when i first published it, primarily because it was so short and written in a sparse style i didn’t know how to evaluate, and partly because it didn’t feel substantial. in a post i’ve put on private since, i’d written: 

what if i repeat the same themes in another context? that doesn’t make the theme carry any less weight as long as i put heart and sincerity and compassion into how i’m writing about it. there’s something that is equally as much self-deprecation as it is borderline vanity in me placing these rules upon myself. i’ve always known i wrote first and foremost out of love, out of what makes me excited to write — and that still applies here. i was thrilled to be able to experiment with a short, snappy fic. and that’s far more important, isn’t it, than whether i’m writing a different dissertation angle on love or friendship or family or career? it doesn’t feel like it, no, but it should, because i know it is. i know that what matters to me is that writing is fun and compassionate, and i know that as long as one person finds comfort in a world i’ve built, it’s enough.

i don’t sound very convinced there, and i wasn’t. i still don’t know what to make about us. i like that it’s short, and i endeavour to write more short fics with nothing specific or significant about them — but it’s hard to stomach its existence, let alone see it as something to love. it just feels so… not empty, but definitely less than what i’m used to asking from myself. it’s short, it’s sweet, it’s snappy. it’s also formulaic in its own sparse way, and i think it works because of the sweetness, but the truth is that if i hadn’t written it for itafushi week, i would never have greenlit it for publishing. i still wrestle nowadays with wanting to delete it, but it matters so little to me that i can’t even justify that much. it’s a weird limbo of a story, though i still hope to explore this kind of writing more in the future. 

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SOME KIND OF WE june 2021, jujutsu kaisen trial element | sequel to existing complete story

broke my own rules here by revisiting a story past its run, but to be very fair, it was less out of sentiment (though there was also that) so much as me startling at my first proper reread of the latter half of flls and realizing there are still unresolved arcs for megumi because the final chapter set two years later only had yuuji’s pov. not many of them, and none especially urgent, but i thought it would be a good opportunity to reorient the story to something quieter and more mature than what the central conflicts in flls left room for. i’m not convinced the back-and-forth between pieces of their recent few months being together and the present evening worked as seamlessly as i wanted it to, but it was still a nice opportunity to use a non-linear narrative to explore the growth and development of a relationship that i left at quite the bittersweet open-endedness. what was only delicately certain by the end of flls was made concretely certain through some kind of we, even if it did run a bit too sentimental and saccharine. but i think it can be forgiven, considering what yuuji and megumi went through in flls proper. 

the main challenge of this fic was figuring out which portions of their life post-flls were worth including, and the first draft had five potential sections:

tokyo, for megumi’s first visit back after moving to chiba, mostly dedicated to him realizing that home — after being rooted for so long to this city, this one apartment with his dad, the same neighborhood and transit lines, to the gojo-geto household — now finally belongs somewhere else, with someone else. 

funabashi, most of which was preserved in the version that was published. 

sendai, to visit grandpa itadori’s grave, which i decided to streamline into a single scene at the end of the final some kind of we draft to cut away the excess and break it down to the core of why i wanted them to make this visit — which is to hammer home for yuuji that he isn’t alone anymore, that he has someone taking care of him and loving him without fail and with care, and to give megumi the agency to solidify, for his own sake, that he’s someone who means the whole universe to yuuji. enough that what place is his will always and solely be his, and enough that megumi will be allowed to love and take care of another person in a way that’s both eternal and an ever-evolving work in progress. 

okinawa, for a trip that was only referenced as a backdrop in the final version but that i still like to think a lot about even now. a cc anon said once that the gojo-geto household must be so lonely with all the kids grown up, but as i talked about in another reply once (it’s too far back for me to have time to dig out at this point), i do love to imagine yuuji and megumi being uncles to the next generation, even if not outright parents themselves. sometimes you don’t know what you’re capable of giving as someone who was denied so much as a kid until you see someone so young, a stranger to the world, and know what to give them precisely because you didn’t have it once. and between yuuji not having much family and megumi’s life being complicated by the fact that he has too much family, i think they’re well-equipped to be uncles to tsumiki’s kids and beyond. and i was tempted for a bit to show this in the annual okinawa trips i mentioned in the final version of skow, but there just isn’t enough space without becoming superfluous. 

kuantan, to visit nanami, mostly to reconsolidate the rather serious interaction megumi and nanami had in flls into something gentler, considering he’s still family to yuuji and while nanami might say yuuji doesn’t need his blessing, yuuji will want it anyway. i never did end up writing this part, so it’s not exactly canon to the au and i’m hesitant to make it so, but the idea was to end with megumi asking for both nanami’s blessing and help to propose to yuuji on that malaysia trip.

the end result for this fic was a little lesson for me in cutting and cutting and keeping my hand light on the source, until i’m left with what i consider necessary. the final version of some kind of we is more a collection of vignettes than a straightforward account of megumi and yuuji’s life together post-flls, which i found much more strangely fitting. i feel like i spent so much of flls trying to get them to a point where they’re ready to be with each other, and i just wanted to dedicate skow to them not just making it work but building love on top of the foundations they secure. it’s one thing to portray that through a whole fic dedicated to each milestone; it’s another to write ordinary moments that are made extraordinary because they have chosen that for and with each other. neither of them say i love you out loud in the entire fic, but i wanted there to be no doubt that they do say it. that they do love each other, and that this part isn’t the obstacle it used to be. they’re just some kind of them, together, and this time it doesn’t feel bittersweet for me to send them off to the world for good knowing there’s love falling out of the spaces between each vignette i wrote. 

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HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND october 2021, jujutsu kaisen trial element | fantasy au

yikes. one of two fics in this round-up that i abandoned at chapter one. started this because an idea occurred to me while reading the atlas six, wrote until i had to stop, then didn’t look back once even when it would have served me to. 

i flew too eagerly close to the sun with this one, truly, but as far as intentions go, i think both my mind and heart were in the right place. it’s quite clear where this one went wrong: i had neither time nor the energy to dedicate to it; i started it on the same whim i start most other things but this time didn’t have the passion for it — and i confess i just didn’t have the patience required to work on writing the story i wanted to write.

it was also one of those lessons in how often big ideas — or an attempt at them — cannot sustain a story. i had what i thought were clear ideas and intentions about the themes i wanted to cover in this one (the downfall of religious devotion, reconstruction, academic institutions versus personal/individual responsibility, all of which just look like buzzwords now that i’m typing them out, omg), but it just didn’t leave room for the kind of story i like to write. i guess my main takeaway here is that the pitfall of high(er) concept genre stories is that you have to make space for the world at the cost of room for character writing; it’s just the nature of how much space in the narrative you can allot for each individual aspect of the story, and with stuff like fantasy and sci-fi, the worldbuilding takes up a significant amount more than your run-of-the-mill slice of life story where the only world i have to worry about sketching is where someone lives and works. 

i do like some parts? it’s kind of crude, how i tried to reconcile my writing style with genre-specific bits, but it’s not all terrible. this sequence is alright:

Megumi was seven the first time he restored something. 

Every part of it had been an accident, and he remembers it now only in fragments. The wet rag in his hand as he wiped down the dining hall tables, having to climb the chairs to get to each corner. The horrible echo of something shattering in the kitchen, where Tsumiki had been tasked to do all the dishwashing for the evening. The panic on her face when Megumi got to her, both of them crowding around the shards of ceramic left by what was once a plate. The spill of harsh candlelight from above the sink, the harsher shadows it sent dancing around the broken glass. 

But he does remember the remembering. The knowing of what the plate had looked like once, the image behind his eyes anchoring him in place as he latched onto the curl of the shadows on the floor. It would be more intuitive, more rudimentary, than anything he’d learn to do later in life, propelled by the worry on Tsumiki’s face and the footsteps he swore he could hear coming towards them from the other end of the servants’ quarters they called home back then—but it had taken only a single blink for the shadows to cover the plate, tighten around it into darkness, and then retreat to where they were, leaving a clean, untouched plate in the middle of the kitchen floor. 

it could be better, but it still could be worse. and i do like the overall architectural imagery and how i managed to scrounge up some standard fare coziness somewhere in the cold, almost-medieval setting. 

as far as disastrously failed ventures go, this one could be a lot more embarrassing than it is. i’m not mad at it. it’s far from good enough, and if i didn’t write it in such a frenzy, i probably never would have allowed it to be published. but. it’s a useful failure. 

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PLEASE LET ME LOVE YOU FOREVER march to june 2022, blue period trial element | five-character gen dynamic, multimedia

what a... headache of a project. bit off more than i could chew without choking and decided to take even more bites each new chapter because why the hell not, apparently. i do appreciate how un-edited this fic is, despite it all. it feels the most bleeding-heart of all my fics from this past year or so, and it’s nice to look back at this and know exactly when i shifted my approach to it altogether because, again, why not. it’s such a valuable “why not?” to have. it’s nice when i don’t feel quite as… under surveillance? when writing a story. and i get to just go off the rails a bit. a lot, actually, with this one. it’s nothing crazy because i don’t think i can write anything crazy (though i think hairpin turns had blinks of it), but there’s definitely plenty of choices that i’m surprised i decided on with a sober mind. 

to be fair, they weren’t exactly mindblowingly successful. if i were to rate this fic out of five, despite all my fondness for it, i’d maybe give it a 2.75. it’s a well-earned mark, and i have a special soft spot for people who have read it, but i’m not mentally proud of it. emotionally so, maybe, in whatever way i can be, but if this fic didn’t feel so intimate with a much cozier readership and comment section, i’d be a lot crueler to it than i am, i think. as it is, it makes for wonderful conversation and reflection for me, and it’s always fun to consider how a story about a disbanded idol group became a metaphor for childhoods lost to growing up too fast and also involved alternate universes. 

but cycling through five povs really is too much, i think, and if it was exhausting for me to write then i imagine it was just as exhausting to read. a nicer alternative would have been to stick to one pov for each chapter, but even that was a lot to juggle considering there were also smaller dynamics going on in the background with each character. within the core group of five alone, there were thirty-one variations of scenes to write, including individual introspection and pairs — and that’s not to take into consideration trios, or groups of four or the whole five plus a secondary character, for example. i don’t know how i pulled off my usual character study here. i don’t know if i did. 

another thing about this fic is that i’m still not sure why a time loop didn’t work. i wanted it so badly to work. i thought it would be fun, but i guess time loops aren’t necessarily compatible with prose. there’s something about repetition and looping that’s best visually, but even if i had been able to stick to imagery and vibes, it would have gotten tedious at some point for me and a reader considering the quantity/length i tend to need. just something to keep in mind if i get the urge to keep trying time loops in future works and wonder why it’s not sticking seamlessly. as with a lot of things in life, if you have to force it then maybe it’s not meant to be there. or maybe you have to go shortform, narrow down the playing field?

one thing i’d commend this fic for is how it managed to unpack so much between dynamics that barely exist in canon. that, and how it managed to pack so many formats into one story — song lyrics, album reviews, tweets, a play, nonfiction, a profile, wikipedia pages, messages, i don’t even know how many more — while maintaining a semi-cohesive tone throughout. there was a lot of fun there, in figuring out how to adapt your typical characterizing to a format you haven’t tried before: how would kuwana write a preface to hashida’s book? would this particular character include rhymes in their song lyrics, or are they more of a diaristic stream of consciousness kind of lyricist? what medium best translates this character’s personality? what medium best conveys this dynamic’s under-the-skin knowing of each other? who sees more than the others, and how can i show that without using the same structure of two or three characters talking in a setting that doesn’t change? 

my favourite part is probably the fake album review at the top of chapter four? there’s something giddying about the research-like quality of figuring out how to perfect the tone that music reviewers tend to default to, but also sobering about how easily adapted this fake idol group’s history is from real life. the easiest part of the entire fic was making this group feel real to me, situated in the real life history of j-idols and beyond, even if i admit to shying away from being explicit about the worst things that would still have been grounded in reality. some references to real life idol incidents worked a little too well, but there was also how clean it felt to spin fictional lore for this group in that fake album review. from their individual songwriting styles to tobi’s own background in-story to the kind of themes and concepts a faux pretentious pitchfork reviewer might like to talk about — it was just incredibly fun. i don’t know when else i’d get the chance to write something like that. everything else paled in comparison to it soon after, though i do also tolerate whatever my writing was doing at the end of chapter five, even if some parts of that chapter also feel lacklustre through a hypercritical lens. it doesn’t hold up under extremely rigorous scrutiny, even if i consider the fact that i’d just wanted the fic wrapped up as soon as i could at the time. it could be better, more so than all the other fics in this post could be better. but i don’t mind too much that it isn’t better. i mind it a little. just a little. but its flawedness is also what forced the multimedia format to happen in the first place, and that, i like a lot.

there’s a fair amount that this fic did quite more than alright, i think. if nothing else, it was useful as a playground that i didn’t have to be too finicky about. it will be one of those projects i’ll look back at someday and laugh deliriously over because how did i think that was the only way to make it work, but with the facilities i had at the time, it’s definitely not a shitshow. it has a lot of heart — which doesn’t necessarily redeem awful works, but in passable ones, those parts of the writing meet each other halfway. please let me love you forever holds its own weight, which is plenty more than i can say for most of my other experiments. plus it contains a background relationship that is not at all the focus of the story yet will probably haunt me forever. it’s always the ones you least expect to matter that will ripple further down the line, etc.

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LOSER TAKES ALL july 2022, tomodachi game trial element | soulmates, mystery au

another unpublished little guy left to rot at one complete chapter. i don’t really have any huge problems with this one, just that i tired of its demands very quickly and didn’t have enough attachment to the dynamics in it to muster up any motivation for. but tomodachi game, and especially yuuichi and kei, are so uniquely positioned for a fic like this, and i don’t resent past me for approaching it this way at all. is a soulmate bond that fosters a telepathic link between people who come back from a brush with death kind of an unhinged premise for a mystery au? yes. but so is remodeling a breakfast restaurant with my mom and the guy i didn’t know confessed to me in high school and who is now literally displaced in more ways than one by said remodeling, and even also acting is all i know so here i am trying to find the love of my life by dating anyone for an entire month on a first come first serve basis only to be shocked when that doesn’t work. 

again. boring yet equally ridiculous elevator pitches. if i cemented anything for a fact from this abandoned wip, it’s that my premises have always been questionable, and that time and time again, the only path forward is to lean all the way into it — which i did with hairpin turns, thankfully. hand in unlovable hand and loser takes all are apart by about a year, and there’s palpable change here in my approach to worldbuilding even if i abandoned each for unrelated reasons. granted, i might just be better suited to one side of speculative fiction than the other, but that’s such a copout. when it comes to trying new things in writing, the “if he wanted to, he would” logic applies, even if the he in question ultimately finds that it doesn’t work the way he wants it to (like in hand in unlovable hand). 

loser takes all worked fine for me, and i loved the inherent intimacy in having two incredibly smart and perceptive characters in each other’s minds while trapped in this soulmate bond that isn’t necessarily romantic. not to mention yuuichi is a deeply unwell person, and his ways of showing attachment to kei range from drastically protective, such as offering to fire the receptionist that was rude to kei, to:

Sometimes, watching Kei asleep right against him, Yuuichi wants to press his lips against Kei’s pulse. To feel it warm and alive under his mouth, to hear that little sigh of ticklish laughter Kei does if someone so much as runs a soft cloth against his neck. 

And sometimes—sometimes Yuuichi is also seized by a strong thought, a strong urge, to sink something sharp into that pulse. His teeth, a fork, a shard of broken glass. Sink it in hard, deep enough to leave a bloody bruise, a scar, a puncture. Hard enough to maybe even sever that heartbeat, to tear it, slit it into silence somehow. Hard enough that it feels almost the kinder choice to imagine himself wrapping his hands around Kei’s neck—tightening them without hesitation, itself a mercy of a kind as the blood quickly drains out of Kei’s cheeks. Yuuichi imagines then how Kei will struggle, whether he’ll kick or bite Yuuichi, if he’ll reverse their positions with one twist of a martial arts trained body, or if he’ll just accept it, resign himself to it knowing that not even this, if it’s Yuuichi, could possibly be meaningless.

But it would be. It would be meaningless to kill Kei. Meaningless because Kei is singular in his position within Yuuichi’s life, loyal and intelligent and a force to be reckoned with like no one else is, not even Yuuichi’s sister, not even the only friend he trusts most. Meaningless because every time Yuuichi pictures it, every time he wonders if he’ll have it in him to press two killer’s hands around Kei’s neck, it doesn’t take long for the accompanying sting to come like a splash of boiling water on exposed skin. A kind of scolding, a kind of reminder, that just as much as it would be difficult for anyone to kill Kei—so impervious to physical harm, whose broken bones and bleeding wounds will always heal even if he jumps off a twenty-story building—it would be just as difficult for Yuuichi to do him harm and survive it without any damage done to his own heart at his own hands. 

the temptation to keep writing this is not entirely absent, to be honest. but a mystery takes care and attention, and i just don’t have that in me the way this story deserves. but this fic was delicious to write, and i think it gave me a hunger to write more dynamics that feel just as juicy. dynamics that aren’t necessarily geared towards healthy love, but ones that ooze if poked anyway. 

i definitely want to revisit the telepathy plot device i explored here someday, but for now, this fic, abandoned wip as it is, is kind of the goldilocks midpoint between failed venture (hand in unlovable hand), almost-passable venture (please let me love you forever), and basically there if being there counts taking your literal first baby step into a new frontier (days of brutalism and hairpin turns).

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HONORARY MENTIONS

i don’t mean to ignore the canonverse fics (here and where you are, i’ll give you something so real, detour, and the two manhwa fics, that is) out of favouritism, but i’m afraid there’s nothing much to say…? not that these weren’t lessons in themselves, but canonverse takes a quarter of the energy and brainpower to write, and i’ll be lying if i don’t go about them essentially all no thoughts, head empty. i talked a bit about here and where you are here, while the logic for detour, which i was happy to write for and based on exchanges with a friend, is pretty self-explanatory. i did love getting to write a character like loid (and i’m relieved that the chapters that follow the ones i took into consideration for that fic hold up the characterization i imagined for him) + it was interesting to give sexual content and the philosophy of desire or whatever a shot in i’ll give you something so real. they were effective at what i needed them to do — which is, really, just to check the temperature of the water. i always feel so rusty when any amount of time passes without me writing, and these small, low-maintenance fics work as a burst of ice cold water before jumping in. i don’t value these fics any less for their place in The Process, and i might even be extra happy when someone likes them, but as far as Advancing The Craft 🤢 goes, all of these are simply necessary bridges to get to the next checkpoint. sometimes you gotta scratch the tip of the pen before the ink starts bleeding like it’s supposed to. words are the same. it takes a while each time to get my writing to a place i recognize, and sometimes a while is an entire fic before i can write the next chapter for an ongoing multi-chaptered story.

(that said: shoutout to the particular flavour of introspection in detour, within which my favourite line was written the literal minute before i sent it off, and a big heart emoji for the fact that i’ll give you something so real unfolds in a span of barely half a day. both are very interesting to think about moving forward.)

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DAYS OF BRUTALISM AND HAIRPIN TURNS january 2023, blue lock trial element | a romantic triad, sci-fi, memory loss (finally!) 

my angel. my darling. my love. who is far from being perfect but is the closest i’ve had to at least being sure i won’t just wake up one day loathing the soul out of it. i’ll laugh at it, probably. i’ll think it’s hilarious and cringy someday soon. but it’s a work i can’t not appreciate wholeheartedly. 

my cc tells me that the first time i put it on record that i won’t mind doing a blue lock fic is may 16, 2022, and the fact that i didn’t even make it a year and did so in the most Hard To Pitch If This Was An Actual Novel And Not Just A Fic For Fun way possible is worth at least a salute of disbelief, i think. my journal from my writing hiatus also tells me i’ve been trying to make memory loss work since 2020 and managed to scratch the itch minutely with here and where you are (which is… a pretty janky piece of work, looking back now) — but i’m just really, really content, even proud, of how i managed to weave it into a fic adapted from a story about football battle royale. 

it’s almost kind of unnerving how satisfied i am with the premise of hairpin turns, even if the execution leaves quite a bit to be desired — as it always will, really, and therein is the joy of finding the next writing project. i laughed a lot at myself while writing hairpin turns, and of all the inside jokes that my works started as, this one is by far the fic to feel most like it — a fun little joke that got funnier and funnier the more of it i wrote, and so i wrote more, chasing that laughter until it was time to catch my breath. and i think with how much i require writing to feel urgent and single-minded to be fun, there’s a part of me that’s easily... bored, for lack of a better word, when something doesn’t give me that. without this fast-paced almost-violence, i get bored and restless, the way i was around all the projects i had lined up after please let me love you forever. i’m making a face as i type that but maybe i just mean to say that there were a good few months there where nothing scratched the itch in need of stimulation. i’d write scenes and they wouldn’t be awful, wouldn’t even be bad, but they weren’t exciting to me. they weren’t thrilling. they didn’t feel like i was dissecting anything, just poking at skin with a scalpel and rolling my eyes when i didn’t draw blood from a dead body — you know? 

but projects have an uncanny way of arriving in your life when you most need it, and just when i have peeled and replaced my wallpaper and assembled and reassembled my keyboards and poked at this manuscript i refuse to rewrite until i did a warm-up that felt substantial enough, the blue lock anime started airing. i knew vaguely what dynamics i wanted to write even back when i had only the manga, but i know i could not have tortured this fic out of me then. not before please let me love you forever, not before loser takes all, not even before all my failed attempts at pitching speculative fiction stories to myself at 3 AM and gritting my teeth at my own disgust. the best aus fall into your lap fully formed and fully realized before you even know what you’ll be shaping it into; they’re a little predestined that way, and aus might be why i owe fanfiction my certainty that the author is just as possessed by the narrative if the narrative has its own pace and direction. i think that’s logic that should be applicable to original projects as well. 

i did hesitate in the very beginning of hairpin turns because sci-fi was such a huge deviation from my comfort zone and i have the misfortune of being both a taurus sun and an enneagram type five. i’ve never tried writing proper sci-fi, not even a little, let alone enough to be comfortable with knowing where to start something that wasn’t merely regular slice of life with a slight sprinkling of specfic. i was sure my writing style wouldn’t be a good match for it. i still don’t think it’s a match, necessarily. my prose is a bit too sentimental for some of the demands sci-fi asked of me — and that’s fine. i wouldn’t know the precise nature of that incompatibility if i hadn’t jumped into the pool of sharks and came out of the tank somehow, disbelievingly, friends with them. i began wary of relying too much on technobabble since i’m not exactly the most stem-oriented person around, but even the background of this au wrote itself, half because blue lock was a shockingly perfect match for the world i had in my mind and half because i found that the technology i imagined for the plot was both possible and easy to break down into the narrative. even now i’m still shocked at how scientifically sound the core pitch of the story is, and the fact that it married itself well to both the overarching plot and the character dynamics i wanted to highlight was just icing on a cake i would have tried to politely finish anyway. 

it could very well be that hairpin turns is just a fluke, its parts too seamlessly glued to each other that i’m not sure it could have been anything else except luck doing the work there, but i think there’s also credit to be found in how nothing is sacred in blue lock. these are characters who have done ridiculous things and said ridiculous things, and it was a matter of matching their energy. therein is the same lesson from loser takes all: if i’ve always known that characters decide the pace, tone and atmosphere of the story and everything else in it, then doesn’t it also go to say that in order to write a story far out of my comfort zone, i need only start with characters far outside of my comfort zone?

i think with au fics in particular, a lot of the work begins with justifying why certain things are in character for them in this universe based on what we know from canon. but because those boundaries are expanded by what blue lock innately is, it doesn’t feel as weird to posit something like, what if you and your android bf get tasked with rescuing his older brother’s android bf and find out along the way that you might also both be in love with your childhood best friend? as with most other of my initial ideas, this quickly spiraled into something significantly different — which luckily for me included the memory loss idea that i’ve been wanting to explore for forever now. proper sci-fi was the perfect backdrop for it, and bachira the perfect person to willingly do it, and isagi and rin the perfect people to be left in the aftermath of that loss. stars aligned, truly. i’m incredibly grateful for it. 

whatever challenges i encountered writing this fic had nothing to do with writing it. it was as smooth to write as it was an absolute pain to edit, because the three povs are so vastly different from each other, and with no outline to mentally check each time i add a new scene, i was reliant on going back and forth again and again to make sure the worldbuilding is cohesive and the plot is coherent. at some point i couldn’t look at it anymore, and it might even be a testament to how much i appreciate the fic that i still can’t look at it now yet cannot deny how fond i am of the final result. 

with sci-fi in particular, it really is a case of faking it till you make it, and whatever lies don’t feed into each other, you can always revisit and adjust later. that’s the common sense magic of fiction, i suppose. there’s a degree of patience i held onto writing hairpin turns that i wouldn’t have had with any other previous work, and i think it benefited me more to have all three chapters written in varying increments, out of my usual linear order, than publishing it chapter by chapter. i had all the room to experiment — what does the world look like in 2070? is 2070 even the right year to set this in? is there anything big happening around that time period? how does the lingo change in the time between present and this potential future? when i run into things that feel too out of my depth to write, like isagi’s pov for instance, do i actually have a justification for saying no other than how it will be easier than trying? are there benefits to giving bachira the final chapter that i’m being biased against because i think it would be a challenge? and between all of these choices, how do i adapt existing blue lock canon, from their playstyles to the favourites listed in the egoist bible, to worldbuilding in other forms of media that i’ve always wanted to try a different approach to? 

i used to think it was unnecessary and superfluous to go into writing something while getting bogged down by stray facts about characters, in both fic and original projects, but at the same time, it’s truly the tiny details that will humanize more than knowing a character’s birthday or what traumatic events lie in their backstory. tiny details that breed more tiny details, until it’s about the fact that bachira and isagi are childhood friends in this au yet when we meet bachira again he’s calling isagi by last name, or how rin understandably questions the validity of his own humanness because we can only assume sae had recreated him in grief or defiance against mortality or whatever other emotion that we’ll never know for sure because we only ever see sae in this fic through rin, and that matters a lot more than if i gave sae a pov — and yet rin manages to love through the small things, in how the warehouse is in an eternal sunset waiting for bachira to return to him and isagi. it’s about how first love, late spring was about learning how to love someone else the way they need you to when you weren’t loved the way you needed to be, but hairpin turns is about how spending your whole life never questioning if you were loved can rob you of the facilities to put a name and shape to what you feel for someone who’s always been in your life. the things you don’t take for granted, necessarily, but you do love for granted by not calling it love.

hairpin turns is about the pieces obscured from view and all the more present because of it. it’s about lost memories, the phantom outline of a person like a haunting. it’s about how sae never once appears in a direct scene yet he looms over rin’s existence. it’s about how rin’s chapter represents the past, isagi’s the present and bachira’s the future, but time matters little in the end — how could it weigh any more, in a story about memory? it’s about the uneasy momentary peace that’s the only scene we can count on as a happy ending. it’s about the lengths you’ll go to get the chance to be ordinary about your love, even if all else about it is unconventional. 

and yet above all, what i like best about this fic is that it works towards questions that feel like being given answers. some of my other fics try to provide answers to its characters and the readers they resonate with, to give them a way to be well-equipped to move forward, while a few other fics settle on non-answers because uncertainty is the only ending there is. but hairpin turns moves outward only to ask more questions, questions that are the answers and the thesis, yet in a way that isn’t strictly open-ended. and i have no fucking clue how i managed it, but this feels like the target i’ve been itching to catch sight of this entire time. this is the kind of story and process i would like to aspire to this year, and even though it had taken me 80k to glean what i needed from it, i’m glad i stayed with this fic as a warm-up. 

anyway. this got a bit away from me, and who knows, maybe this level of pretentiousness is only because i’m still riding the high of affection for my most recent brainchild to make it to college — but i’m not totally blind to the flaws in hairpin turns. the execution of the ending itself is clunky, not because it doesn’t resolve anything but because it does, and by then, the post-rescue section has gone on for long enough that even an ending feels like an epilogue. the story overall lacks complete confidence in what it is, with some parts shadowed by a slight hovering hesitation and others weighed down by a heavy hand showing too much kindness to my non-confidence. it’s never too heavy-handed, and definitely not so much that i’ll send it to the bin, but enough that if i want something to pick apart, there are stray choices hiding in places that i’d circle as an editor for feeling too sentimental, or the tone too dissonant with the pacing, or, ironically, not explored enough. in the genre i’m used to writing, the adrenaline rush is in finding the right balance within a new choreography for a dance style i know well, but in my first real foray into speculative fiction, i think i was just trying to find my footing the whole time. i’m still surprised i made it to the other end of the tightrope, honestly. i didn’t expect to applaud myself for the bare minimum, and i still don’t. 

but all of this is a lesson for me, too. what i do know is that it’s interesting to tell a story about what’s missing, about the unsaid and the unseen, and if that’s what it will take for me to rediscover excitement in what i write so that i don’t have to sink back into the ennui of these last couple of months, then that’s a pretty darn fun goal to spend the rest of the year unpacking. 

[harley-sunday]

August Rush [03]

Summary: You’ve known Carlos for almost as long as you have been working in Formula One but you never expected it would take you seven years and a concussion to realise that maybe you like him as more than just a friend.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr x reader (OFC nicknamed Pip) | Max Verstappen x reader (best friends)

Warnings: None except tooth-rotting fluff

Word count: 4.3

AN: Let me start of by telling you how much I LOVE all the love this fic is getting from you. My heart is about to burst! So yeah... here’s the next part. It’s a little bit of a filler chapter, I won’t lie, but hopefully the amount of soft!Carlos makes up for it :) 

Masterlist

When you wake up the next morning your room is bathing in light, the sun already high in the sky, and so you figure you must have slept longer than you thought. With a groan you roll onto your side and reach for your phone, a quick glance at your screen not only telling you you’ve slept for almost twelve hours but also that you’ve received three new messages. Turning onto your back you unlock your phone and pull up the messaging app, smiling when you see the first message is from Max:

Just wanted to let you know I’ve made it to Brazil. Will call you later today, ok? X

You type out a quick reply to let him know you don’t have any plans and that he can call anytime before you scroll down and open the next messaging thread:

So… Pierre told me you are in Mallorca? With CARLOS? WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME THIS? HUH? DID IT SLIP YOUR MIND? Are you even my friend? Ugh. I hate you.

There’s a second message, sent not long after the first:

Ok. I don’t hate you. Not really, anyway. BUT. You do need to call me ASAP. I have questions.

You can’t help but smile when you read your best friend's messages and when you check the timestamp and see the last message was sent just five minutes ago you pull up her contact details and hit the green button to start the call, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed so you can sit up while you talk to her.

She answers on the first ring, “You have some explaining to do-”

You let out a laugh, “Good morning to you too, friend.”

“Skip the pleasantries, Pip,” she bites back but you can tell she’s smiling. “What are you doing playing house with Carlos?”

“I’m not-” you start, a little taken aback by her accusation, but then you hear her scoff and so you change trajectory. “It was this or have Max’s cat lady take care of me for the next two weeks, so-”

“Uh, hello? You could have called me?”

“Hmm,” you agree half-heartedly. “Don’t think Max would have been too thrilled to make the journey to Strasbourg and back though.” 

“Oh, pff,” she scoffs. “You know he would have in a heartbeat. Or I could have met you halfway or-”

“Yeah, well, I’m in Mallorca now,” you point out with a shrug even though she can’t see you. “Not playing house with Carlos. Not in this condition anyway.”

“Still that bad?” She sounds concerned and you can just picture the way she rubs her forehead, “I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s ok, I just have to take it easy.” It’s then you realise something and so you stand up to test the waters, a little surprised when you can do so without getting a headache or feeling dizzy, “Huh.”

“‘Huh’ what?” 

“Huh, my head feels actually pretty ok right now,” you tell her as you sit back down again. “I just tried standing up and I didn’t get dizzy or-”

“That’s good! Right?” 

“I guess so,” you nod, feeling strangely relieved. You hear your best friend start to say something and so you cut her off immediately, “Still doesn’t mean I’m going to play house here, babe.”

“Boo,” she counters, no doubt making a face at her phone. There’s a sigh then, “This has been what? Seven years in the making, friend. If not now then when?”

You let out a laugh, “What are you, Yoda?”

There’s another exasperated sigh before she repeats herself, “Seven. Years.”

“I never should have told you I thought he looked good in red,” you say with a shake of your head, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks at whatever it is she’s insinuating. 

“Oh, no. No, no. No, that’s not what you said, babe. You said, and I quote, ‘I mean, I guess he looks good in Ferrari red but I wouldn’t mind being the one he takes it off for.’” 

You let out a groan, “I was four drinks in by-.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she shoots back before you’ve even finished your sentence. “You said what you said, babe. And I for one can not wait to see how this unfolds.” 

“What even makes you think anything’s gonna happen?” You run your free hand through your hair, letting it come to rest at the back of your neck, “We’re just friends. Plus he has-”

“Yeah. Ok. Sure.” 

“-seen me throw up yesterday,” you continue, effectively ignoring her. “I don’t think that particularly awakens any romantic feelings one might have.” 

“He saw you throw up and he didn’t run away?” She lets out a laugh, “Oh Pip.”

“What?” 

“Nothing,” she says, feigning innocence. “You’ll figure it out eventually.” It’s quiet for a second before she adds, “If you could do so before Spa that’d be great.” 

“What?” You shake your head, “Before Spa? What are you talking about?” 

“Nothing, babe, just- Don’t waste another seven years, ok?” She clears her throat then, “Listen, I have to go, but-”

“What’s going at Spa?” 

“I have to go, babe,” she says. 

“No. You have to tell me what’s going on.”

“Can’t, sorry. I really need to go. I love you, babe. Make good choices.”

“Flo-” you warn her but by then she’s already ended the call and so you let out a frustrated sigh because what on earth is she talking about? What’s happening at Spa?

***

After a quick shower you make your way to the kitchen, which you find empty except for some soft Jazz playing in the background, but it’s then you hear Piñon bark, the sound coming from somewhere outside, and as you make your way through the double doors there’s a smile creeping up on you when you see Carlos playing fetch with his dog. They’re in the far end of the garden, where tall pine trees offer some relief from the burning midday sun, and it looks like a good place to be so you make your way over there as well.

It’s Piñon who spots you first, letting out an excited yelp before he runs over to you and greets you enthusiastically, nudging your leg with his head for some scratches.

“Good morning,” Carlos says with a grin as he walks over to you and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” you tell him with a smile, trying to ignore the way your cheek still burns long after he's pulled away. “A little long maybe but-” 

Carlos shakes his head, “You must have needed it.”

“I guess I did.” 

“Have you eaten yet?” He throws you a look when you tell him you haven’t and motions for you to follow him inside, “Come on, I will make you something.” He falls into step beside you as you make your way back to the house, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you admit easily enough. “No dizziness yet and no headaches either, so that’s something, I guess.” 

“Hmm,” he agrees as he throws the ball for Piñon to fetch, “I wanted to go get some groceries after lunch-” he chuckles then, “Well lunch for me and breakfast for you.” 

You don’t say anything, just make a face at him, which in turn makes him laugh.

“Maybe you want to come with me?” He throws you a kind smile then, “If you’re up for it, of course.” 

“Yeah, I'd like that.” 

***

Max calls when you’re in the fruit and vegetable section of the supermarket Carlos has taken you to and so you trail a little behind the Spaniard, nodding yes when he’s holding up a pineapple for you to approve of before he puts it in the shopping cart, while you give your best friend a quick update, “I had a few bad episodes yesterday but I think that was just from travelling-”

“Bad how?” Max asks.

“Some dizziness and a lot of headaches,” you reply truthfully.

“Pip,” Max draws out, the warning in his voice coming through loud and clear.

“I know,” you shake your head at Carlos when he shows you a bag of spinach, and pull a face that you hope lets him know just how much you hate it. “I know, ok?”

You hear Max sigh, “Please don’t rush anything”

“I won’t,” you promise, “but today’s much better already. I haven’t been dizzy at all and so far I haven’t had any headaches either.” You look for some wood to knock on but don’t find any and so in the end you settle on knocking on a coconut that you add to the cart after.

Carlos smiles and shakes his head when he sees what you’re doing and quietly mutters, “Estas loca.”

You stick your tongue out at him while you listen to Max once again telling you to take it easy. You nod, even though he can’t see you, “I will, Maxy. Promise.” You follow Carlos as he makes his way to the fish and meat section, “How’s Brazil?”

“Good,” Max replies and you can hear the smile in his voice. “It’s really nice to be back and see everyone again.” 

“Good,” you echo. “You deserve some time off.” 

“I’ll call you later tomorrow for another update, ok?”

“Yep.” You can’t help but laugh when you see Carlos trying to mime to say hi to Max from across the aisle, “Carlos says hello.”

“Say hi back for me,” Max lowers his voice then, “and tell him to take good care of you.” 

You look down at your feet, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks from the double meaning in Max’s words even though you know it’s not how he meant them at all. Still, with a cheeky grin, acting a lot braver than you feel, you tell him, “Oh, I will.” When you finally look up again you find Carlos looking at you curiously as if he’s trying to figure out what’s got you all flustered but you simply shake your head, hoping he won’t ask any questions.

“Good,” Max continues, completely oblivious. “I’ll talk to you later, ok?”

“Yep.” You can’t help but smile when you tell him, “Love you, Maxy.” 

“Ik ook van jou.”

***

By the time you make it back it’s already late in the afternoon, the shopping trip taking a little longer than expected because you insisted on walking through every single aisle, admiring the wide variety of products they offer. Carlos seemed happy to follow you around, sometimes pointing out things he thought you should try. 

Once you’re at the house you offer to help put away the groceries, leaving Carlos to do the heavy lifting while you care for the fresh produce. As Piñon trails behind you every time you walk from the counter to the fridge and back you can’t help but think maybe your best friend was right when she accused you of playing house with Carlos because this sure as hell is looking pretty domestic. 

You can honestly say you’ve never thought about it before, never even considered the possibility of you and Carlos being more than friends, but now that the seed of it has been planted it’s hard to ignore even though it’s not something you want to explore more of right now per sé. Not here in this kitchen where Carlos is never more than four feet away anyway. Maybe later, you think, when you’re alone and there’s more room to think. Maybe you could call Flo again so she can help you sort through the million and one things that are going through your mind because you can’t seem to grasp any of them on your own. 

When you feel Carlos nudge your shoulder with his not much later you look up at him a little startled.

He chuckles, “Where was your head at, cariño?” 

You try to save face, “I got a little distracted by all of this,” you tell him as you nod towards the now five empty grocery bags. “It looks like we’re feeding an orphanage.” 

“I promised to take good care of you, no?” 

Not for the first time today do you feel the heat rise to your cheeks and so you busy yourself wiping non-existent dust off the counter to avoid his gaze, “You did.” 

***

Carlos insists you sit back and relax while he makes dinner and so you find yourself back in one of the lounge chairs, Piñon quietly snoring at your feet like he did yesterday. It’s a little later in the evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and a slight breeze offering some relief from the heat that's still lingering in the air. 

You’re on your phone, catching up on social media and emails and text messages from Pierre, Yuki, and Franz, who all want to know how you’re doing and wishing you a speedy recovery. There’s even a text from Daniel, who you’ve never worked with but who you know very well because he’s one of Max’s closest friends on the grid and over the years you’ve spent many nights partying together after races and during the off-season in Monaco. He tells you to take full advantage of your situation now that ‘you’ve got Sainz looking after you’ and to ‘make him work for it, babe.’ You tell him you will and add a smiley for good measure. 

It’s then Carlos walks past you, carrying two plates, and informing you dinner is ready from over his shoulder as he makes his way to the gazebo. When you get up there’s a twinge of pain shooting through your head but not as bad as before and so you don’t really pay it too much attention, even more so because by the time you get to the gazebo it has disappeared again. 

“What would you like to drink?” Carlos asks once he’s set down the plates and is on his way to the kitchen once more. 

“Water’s fine,” you tell him with a smile as you sit down. The food, a risotto it seems, smells absolutely amazing and your stomach growls in response, a rather unattractive sound that you’re glad Carlos hasn’t heard.

Carlos rejoins you not much later, placing a glass of water in front of you before he sits down, “Here you go.”

You smile up at him, “Thank you. It looks really good.”

“It’s my mom’s recipe,” he admits easily enough. He nods towards your plate then, "Buen provecho."

You take a bite and have to keep from letting out a moan from how good it tastes, “Oh my God,” you breathe, eyes on Carlos, “this is amazing.” 

He smiles widely at your compliment, “Thank you.”

“So good,” you mutter after the second bite, leaning back in your chair and savouring the taste. 

There’s a comfortable silence between you and Carlos as you both finish the rest of your meal, the only sound the soft summer breeze rustling through the trees and some birds chirping in the distance. You don’t want to jinx it but you do feel you’re slowly starting to get back to your old self again, like you’re here in Mallorca to spend some time with a good friend instead of having to recover from a concussion. And who knows what might happen between you and Carlos in the next two weeks. 

Wait. What? 

Where did that come from? 

You can feel yourself getting flustered again and so you risk a quick glance at Carlos, because even though you haven’t said anything out loud you wonder if he’s picked up on the sudden change in your mood. You find him looking at you with a fond smile and for a moment you’re convinced he’s been able to read your mind but then he asks if you’d like some more water and you let out a relieved breath before you tell him, “Yes, please.” 

***

You’re not sure what happens because one minute you’re loading the dishwasher and the next you’re using the kitchen counter for support as you try to battle the nausea that has rushed over you from out of nowhere. Carlos is outside, gathering the last of the dishes left over from dinner, and so you try to breathe through it on your own but it’s only getting worse. 

A sharp pain shoots through your head the moment you take another deep breath and so you squeeze your eyes shut, quietly whimpering because Jesus, it hurts. You can feel tears coming to your eyes and you let out a groan, both out of frustration and pain.

There’s a hand on the small of your back then and you are sure Carlos says something but it doesn’t reach you, the words floating around but never really landing. He tries again, much closer now, and this time you do hear him, the worry clear in his voice, “How bad is it?”

When you try to answer the words seem stuck in your throat and nothing but a quiet whimper comes out. 

“I’m here,” Carlos says, his hand now at the base of your neck. He does something with his fingers then, massaging the tense muscles, and the firm pressure of his touch and the warmth that radiates from his fingers helps to distract you a little. “Just keep breathing, cariño,” he whispers.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this, your head in your hands while Carlos keeps whispering sweet nothings and tries to relieve the tension in your shoulders and neck but after a while you can feel the headache starting to subside a little. The nausea doesn’t seem to want to budge though and so you keep taking deep breaths, eyes still closed as you wonder how long this will last.

Carlos pulls away then and you whimper at the loss of contact, afraid the headache will return and it will be worse than before. He lets the back of his fingers run across your cheek, the touch featherlight, before he says, “Just keep breathing, ok? I’ll be right back.”

You want to tell him no, want to tell him to stay, but words are still hard and so you focus on your breathing instead and hope he keeps his promise.

He returns not much later, “This might be a little cold,” and drapes what feels like a wet washcloth on your neck, letting his hand rest on top of it for some extra pressure.

It is cold at first but then it actually starts to feel nice and you can feel your muscles start to relax even more. The headache is nothing more than a dull throb somewhere in the back of your head now and so you test the waters by slowly opening your eyes one by one. 

There’s no light on in the kitchen, only a faint glow coming from somewhere inside the living room, and it takes you a few seconds to get used to the darkness and get your bearings again. When the nausea doesn’t seem to get any worse you carefully lift your head and turn towards Carlos.

“Hey,” he whispers and presses a kiss to your temple. He tries to smile at you then but there’s no hiding the worried look in his eyes, “What happened?”

“I don’t-” your voice is rough and so you clear your throat and try again, “I don’t know.” You put your hands on the counter and try to stand up a little straighter but your back doesn’t seem to want to cooperate and you let out a frustrated groan.

“Hey, no, easy,” Carlos says, his hands now on your hips as to steady you. “I’ve got you.” 

You try again, one hand against Carlos’ chest for some support. You’re still a little unsteady on your feet but the nausea doesn’t seem to get any worse and small victories and all that. 

“Easy,” Carlos says again, removing the washcloth from your neck. “Let’s just stand here for a bit, no?”

He’s so kind, and so gentle, and so genuinely concerned that the tears you have been trying to fight back ever since this whole thing started finally spill over, running hot and thick down your cheeks.

“No,” Carlos whispers, cupping your face in his hands and running his thumbs over your cheeks. “Don’t cry, cariño. Please.”

You bite your lip to keep from sobbing but fail, a ragged breath escaping you. Looking up at Carlos you try again, “I just- I hate- I hate this. I thought today was a good- A good day and then-” another sob follows and so you let out a resigned, “I just really hate this.” 

Carlos shakes his head and wraps his arms around you as he steps closer to you and pulls you into him, “Ssssh.” He presses a kiss to your temple, “You have got to give it time, Pip.”

“I don’t want to anymore,” you mutter against his shoulder, knowing he’s probably right but not necessarily wanting to agree with him either even though you keep telling Max the same thing. You wrap your arms around Carlos’ waist, suddenly feeling very tired and needing some extra support.

“Why don’t we get you to bed?”

You let out a whine, a little afraid you’ll start to feel worse again if you move.

Carlos seems to understand and pulls away a little, reaching behind him to take your hands in his, draping one of your arms across his shoulders. He picks you up then, bridal style, and smiles when you look up at him, his eyes softening, “Don’t worry. I got you.” 

***

Are you surprised when Carlos comes to check on you every hour that night? No. Not really anyway and so after the third time you scoot over to the far side of your bed and tell him, still half asleep, “Just sleep here. It’s easier.” 

He chuckles but declines, “That’s ok. I don’t mind.” 

You mutter something in reply that even you don’t understand but don’t push it any further even though you really want him to stay. 

***

When he comes to check on you again you’re feeling worse than before, a screaming headache making you restless and a little panicked that it’s never going to get better. Your breathing is shallow and comes in irregular puffs and you just want it to stop. 

This time he does stay.

As soon as he lies down he pulls you into him and you curl up against him, your head resting on his chest. He has one arm around you, his fingers ghosting over the skin of your wrist, drawing little patterns that you’re not sure mean anything but that you don't want him to stop doing either. He inhales deeply and tells you, “Breathe with me, ok?” 

You try and at first it’s hard but then you fall into sync with him and you can feel yourself starting to calm down, your eyes growing heavy despite the headache. This is nice, you think before you feel yourself drift off to sleep. 

***

You wake up the next morning, not immediately remembering what happened last night but then you spot Carlos’ watch next to your pillow and all of a sudden the memories come flooding back. How most of the day you were fine until you weren’t. How Carlos took care of you in the kitchen. How he carried you to bed. And how he ended up staying with you, at least for a little while because you have no idea if he went back to his own room or if he actually spent the night here once you fell asleep.

You like to think he did. 

You feel absolutely exhausted and when you grab the watch and see that it’s only nine you tell yourself it’s ok to go back to sleep and so you close your eyes, still holding on to that little piece of Carlos.

***

You spend most of Sunday morning in bed and it isn’t until much later that afternoon that you finally start to feel a little better and dare to get up and leave your bedroom. You find Carlos playing a game of solo-chess outside and when you see the way his face lights up when he spots you you can’t help but smile, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he echoes, leaning forward and putting his hand on your knee and giving it a gentle squeeze, “Are you feeling a bit better?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

“And the headache?”

“Almost gone,” you tell him. “I’m still just really tired.” Piñon sits down at your feet and you scratch him behind his ears, “Good boy.” You see Carlos’ watch around your wrist then and so you take it off and hand it back to him, “Here. You forgot this.”

There’s the hint of a smile playing on his lips, “Gracias.” 

“De nada.”

He furrows his brows and runs a hand through his hair, almost as if he’s a little hesitant about what he’s going to say. Still, he goes for it, “I meant what I said yesterday, Pip. You’re going to have to allow yourself time to heal.” He locks his eyes on yours, “Promise me you will?” 

You nod, dropping your eyes to your lap, “I will.”

“Good,” he agrees quietly.  “Let’s just take it easy this week and see how it goes, no?” He waits until you nod before he continues, “And so you know, I do have to work out during the week but it’s only in the morning so I’m yours for most of the day, ok?”

“Ok.” 

“Ok,” he echoes. He looks at you then, really looks at you, and smiles a hesitant smile, “I know it’s maybe not how you expected your summer to go, Pip, but I just want you to know that I’m really happy you’re here.” 

=====

Notes Estas loca - you’re crazy Buen provecho - bon appetit

Taglist: @shes-homeward-bound | @chiogarza | @oyesmendes​ | @thatchickwiththecamera​ | @sanne-p | @kimisolis | @your-favourite-blonde​ | @internetgremlin​

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Time to Wake Up

Fandom: Marvel, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 1331

TW: Cemetary, Mentions of Death, Letting Go, Grief, Moving On

Note: Set between Infinity War and Endgame

Sequel to Nightmares (but can be read independently from it), Part 3 (Coming Soon)

As you walked through the cemetery for what seemed like the thousandth time, you can’t help but note how much more crowded it used to be when you first started coming here five years ago. Back then, you had to carefully push your way past large groups of mourners to make it to your destination. Today, it seems like you are the only one here. But you guessed after so long, people move on, they forget. But not you. And that is the problem.

As you reached your desired headstone, you brushed off a few leaves from the top before placing a light kiss on the stone. Then, as you crouched down and stared at the inscription, you whispered with a small smile, “Hey, Buck. I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see you for a while. Things are….they’re not great. The world has kinda fallen apart since everyone disappeared. I thought things would have gotten better by now, but I guess when half the world’s population just vanishes into thin air, it takes a while to adjust. But I’ve told you all of this before.”

Your smile dropped from your face and was replaced by a teary-eyed expression instead. “I need to talk to you about something and I’m not sure how to start. But maybe if you understand how I’m feeling, you’ll understand why I’ve made the choice I have.” You looked down sadly at the flowers that were still clutched in your hands. “I dreamt you were alive last night. Well, that’s kind of misleading. I dream you’re alive every night. That you hold me in your arms, you pull me tight against your chest, and you make all the pain go away. And for those few hours, it’s the only time I feel at home. But as soon as I wake up, that hurt is fresh all over again. I lose you once more every morning. And for a while, it was worth it. The new heartbreak over and over for a few hours in your arms.

“But here’s the thing Bucky….I can’t do it anymore. It hurts too bad, and I have to find a way to get past it, past you. Because as much as I keep trying to tell myself there may be a way to bring you back, I don’t think I really believe that anymore. I lost you five years ago, and I just need to accept that. And the first thing I need to do is stop coming here, at least for a while. Being here, talking to you, it’s not good for me. I know that, I’ve always known that. Only it’s been too hard to stay away.

“But there are people who are still here who need my help and I can’t do that if I am still grieving you all over again every single day. I hope, wherever you are, you can hear me and you understand. This doesn’t mean I don’t still love you, that I won’t still love you for the rest of my life. Because I will. But I need to move on. It's time for me to stop living in the dream. It's time for me to finally wake up. So, I think this is goodbye. Maybe someday, I can come back and it won’t hurt as much. But for now, I won’t be returning. Hopefully, one day in the future when my time is up, we will meet again. But until that time…” You leaned over and placed another, longer kiss to the headstone. Though it was made of granite and not metal, the cold, hard surface reminded you of his arm and for a brief moment, you let yourself have the illusion that that was what you were kissing instead. But then, you pulled away, laid the flowers down, and walked out of the cemetery without looking back.

As you approached your car, you saw a familiar figure leaning against the passenger door with his arms folded across his chest, waiting for you. Ducking your head slightly and pulling your coat tighter around you, you walked past him and over to the driver’s side door. He pushed off the door and followed you over to the other side of the car.

With a deep sigh, you muttered. “What are you doing here, Steve? I thought you promised not to come by when I was here.”

“I’m sorry, but I needed to talk to you, and I figured this would be the only place I’d be able to track you down. Nat refused to give me your home address.”

“Good. She promised me she wouldn’t. I told you before, I don’t want anything else to do with you.”

“Listen, I shouldn’t have said those things. I was just as upset as you were, and they just slipped out. I didn’t mean it.”

You chuckled humorlessly. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘Pay attention to what people say out of anger, they've been dying to tell you that’? And I’m pretty sure you had been dying to tell me what you really thought of me for a long time.” You tried snatching the car door open, but Steve held it shut.

“Fine. Maybe I do think you’ve been wallowing in self-pity too long and shirking your responsibilities to the team and, quite frankly, the world. We all lost people but the rest of us have pulled ourselves together enough to try and make the best out of this situation. For everyone, not just us. But I had no right to say you weren’t worthy of him. He loved you more than I have ever seen him love someone and I know you loved him just the same. And as much as I miss him, I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through. So, for that, I am sorry.”

You stared down at your feet, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. “Fine. Whatever. Just tell me what you want so we can both be on our way.”

Steve took a deep breath. “We think we found a way to bring everyone back.”

Your head jerked up sharply and you scanned his face for any sign that he was lying. However, he looked completely sincere. “When did you figure this out? How?”

“Scott Lang.”

Your face furrowed in confusion. “Ant-Man? But he disappeared in the snap.”

“That’s what we thought too…. Until he showed up at the compound last week. He’s been trapped in what he calls the Quantum Zone. It’s really complicated and scientific but, based on the information he gave us, Bruce and Tony think they found a way to retrieve the stones from the past and fix everything. Everyone could come back.”

“Wait…are you suggesting time travel?” When he nodded, you scoffed and shoved him out of the way, finally gaining access to your car. You climbed in and started to shut the door, but Steve’s superhuman strength held it open with ease.

“This will work. But we need your help. You are one of, if not the, top-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent left. If we are going to try to steal the stones right from under S.H.I.E.L.D.’s noses, we are going to need some inside help.” He saw you hesitate, your refusal of support starting to waiver. “Please, we can’t do this without you.”

You ran your hands over your face before glancing at your old friend. “Steve…I can’t do this unless you promise me this will work. I just got to a place where I think I can finally move on. If you drag me back there, you give me hope, and it doesn’t work….I won’t be able to survive that.”

Steve’s clear, blue eyes bore into yours, once again filled with complete sincerity. “We will bring them back, whatever it takes.”

You looked up at him and, after a moment, nodded. “Whatever it takes.”

[engie-ivy]

Yes, he's in the hospital and doesn't remember anything about himself, but it's actually not that bad. His memories are sure to come back in a matter of days, and until then, he can spend time eating, sleeping, reading, daydreaming about that ridiculously attractive Healer...

(The aim is Funny and Fluffy Wolfstar)

It's Like the First Time

“Everything seems to be in order,” the Healer Trainee, Aubrey, says. “As we expected. How’s the dizziness?”

“When I’m laying down, it doesn’t bother me,” he replies.

“That’s good,” Aubrey smiles. “The dizziness and light-headedness should gradually disappear over the upcoming days, and then the memories will come back after.”

He nods. He’d be more worried about all his memories being gone if the Healers at St Mungo’s weren’t so certain they’ll all come back in a matter of days. Dizziness, light-headedness, and amnesia; it’s a familiar picture when being hit with a Confundo-charm from a defective wand, which the Healers have encountered many times before and has apparently happened to him during some friendly duelling.

It’s always the same picture: the dizziness and light-headedness slowly lessening, and the memories all coming back at once after two to at most five days. Like, one moment you know nothing, and the next you remember everything.

Well, he doesn’t exactly know nothing. His semantic memory is intact, meaning he has basic knowledge and remembers facts and skills. He knows he’s a wizard, he knows the hospital is called St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, he knows the people in the lime green robes are the Healers, he knows that since he’s a wizard he probably went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he knows perfectly well how to perform a wide variety of charms, jinxes, hexes and curses. (So luckily those years at Hogwarts weren’t for nothing)

What he doesn’t know is anything about himself. His episodic memory, memory for any kind of life events, is completely gone. Who he is, what he does, what he has done, who he knows, it’s all gone. His own mum could walk into the room, and he’d think she was the laundry lady. (Luckily, she seemed like a very nice lady, and had thought it rather funny)

The only thing he knows about himself, not because he remembers, but because it’s the only thing they told him, is that he’s someone named Remus Lupin. Apparently, in the past, trying to fill in the gaps has proven to be more frustrated than helpful for the patient and, as the memories will come back on their own anyway, quite unnecessary. Therefore, they don’t tell him much else, and all he can do is wait.

Past experience has also shown that the patient often finds it quite stressful, and even frightening, to be surrounded by lots of people who all know him, and whom he feels like he should recognize, but doesn’t. Therefore, friends and family are only allowed in limited numbers, one new person a day, which started with his mum.

His mum had brought him his favourite novel, saying that he read it so many times, and would always wish he could erase it from his memory just so he could read it again with the same sense of anticipation. Well, she had figured this was his chance. Now, all he can do is lie in bed, read his book, and eat food, which is... Well, pretty great actually.

He doesn’t have anything to worry about. How can he worry about anything if he doesn’t remember anything? It’s like having a little break from life and all its expectations and responsibilities. (Though the fact that he’s so happy about having no worries, makes him think that this Remus Lupin normally worries quite a lot)

When a Healer comes to see him, he suddenly knows something else about himself: he’s very, very gay.

The Healer has a classic, aristocratic beauty to him, with his sharp cheekbones and full lips, and his eyes are of a clear grey, that appears silver, which contrasts quite nicely with the strands of raven black hair that have fallen from the messy bun on top of his head. And no one has the right to look that good in lime green robes, which he fills out pretty well with his lean, muscular body.

The Healer gives him a soft smile, and really, if he smiles at all his patients like that, the whole hospital must be diagnosed with palpitations. “How’re you feeling?” the Healer asks in a warm, deep voice.

He wonders whether his semantic memory has failed him after all, as he suddenly seems to have forgotten how speaking works. “Erm...” he says, very eloquently.

The Healer frowns, and looks at Aubrey. “Isn’t the confusion supposed to be gone by now?”

Aubrey looks from the Healer to him and back to the Healer, while a knowing smile appears on her face. “Don’t worry,” she tells the Healer. “He has been perfectly responsive and coherent all day.”

“Has he had some Anti-Confusion Concoction?”

“He’s had a small dose, as the confusion was already wearing off on his own.”

“Are you going to give him Memory Potion?” the Healer continues his questioning.

Aubrey shakes her head. “We have already given him Mandrake Restorative Draught against the spell’s physical effects. Adding Memory Potion might make the dose of Stewed Mandrake too high. As we can be certain all memories will come back on their own, it isn’t worth the risk.”

The Healer nods thoughtfully. “So only a daily dose of Restoration Potion until all effects have subsided, I assume?”

“Yes,” Aubrey agrees. “Based on past experience, that’ll in all likeliness be sufficient.”

The Healer turns his head back to him, and that soft smile is back in place. He opens his mouth to speak, but right at that moment, a bright flash can be seen, and a gazelle made out of shining white light is standing in front of them.

“I’m so sorry to disturb on a moment like this,” a stressed-sounding voice of a young woman comes from the Patronus, that is directing itself to the Healer. “But you’re needed back at the HADA department immediately! We’re having an emergency.”

The Healer curses under his breath. He takes a step towards the door, but then stops to look back at him with a pained expression.

“He’s in good hands,” Aubrey says.

The Healer nods. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he tells him, before hurrying out the door.

Though his mum was right, and the novel is really good, he has trouble focusing on it from that moment on. He’s constantly interrupted by thoughts of bright, silver-grey eyes. Merlin, he’s seen the guy once, and he’s acting like a twelve-year-old with a crush!

Telling himself off for it doesn’t stop him from looking up hopefully the moment he catches a glimpse of lime-green robes. It’s quite a disappointment when the Healer that walks in to check his vitals is a greying, grumpy man with a face that seems to be twisted in a permanent scowl. Asking him where the good-looking Healer went to seems kind of impolite though, so he just sits and nods whenever the Healer grumbles something unintelligible.

“So, why have I gotten a different Healer?” he asks Aubrey later, trying to sound casual.

“Different Healer?” she asks, not understanding.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling to his great annoyance that his cheeks begin to flush. “There was this older man checking up on me, while before, there was the young man with the broad shoulder, shining dark hair, sweet smile, pretty eyes...” He trails off.

“Oh!” Understanding, and a not insignificant amount of amusement, appear on Aubrey’s face. “Oh, he wasn’t not your Healer, sweetie! He was visiting.”

“Ah,” he sighs disappointedly. So the Healer had only been here for some sort of second opinion, and he probably won’t be back. It was too good to be true, to have a Healer like that around as a nice distraction.

“Healer Black works for the Healing Against the Dark Arts Department,” Aubrey continues.

“You know him?” he asks.

“I know of him. But honestly,” she adds with a wink. “Everyone working at St Mungo’s knows of Healer Black!”

He chuckles. “I suppose he cannot not catch your eye.”

“It’s not just his appearance,” Aubrey says. “Healer Black is the leading expert on healing Dark Arts-related injuries and combating curses from the Dark Arts. He has invented novel Healing Spells and revolutionized the protocol for treating curses. Healers from all over the world consult him on their cases, and patients come to see him from all over the world.”

“Wow...” he sighs again, but this time it’s a more wistful sigh. He doesn’t even care anymore that he sounds like a love-struck teenager. Maybe Aubrey will write it off as a side-effect of the Confundo-charm. He briefly wonders about that himself, but as those bright, silver-grey eyes come to mind again, he knows he’s under a whole different kind of spell.

“Yeah,” Aubrey smiles. “He’s quite a remarkable man.”

“So I guess I won’t be seeing him again then,” he says dejectedly, letting his head hang. He wonders why they’d sent that Healer to come see him in the first place, as he surely must’ve had better things to do.

He hears a choked noise besides him, and he looks up at Aubrey, who seems to be stifling a laugh, with her hand pressed against her mouth. “Don’t worry, love,” she says with obvious amusement in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of him.”

The young man sitting next to his bed has been talking about his wife and their baby for an hour straight. Though it really isn’t so bad. His stories are quite amusing, and the man is very charismatic. He has sparkling eyes, and hair so messy, he had immediately checked whether it wasn’t storming outside when the man had entered. He has a disarming smile and a contagious laugh, and is surprisingly easy to talk to. He says his name is James Potter, and he’s Remus Lupin’s best friend.

He has to give Remus Lupin a pat on the back for having made such a nice friend. Honestly, the idea of socializing with new people, trying to make friends, does not appeal to him, and he’s glad to know Remus already has them.

“And I just went to see Sirius,” James says. “Well, more like I was speed walking next to him in the two minutes he had to get from one room to another. He still managed to apologize twenty times though. Normally, I’d say he should be sorry, but the poor guy seems to hardly have any time to eat or sleep.” James shakes his head. “Did you hear what happened? Three children were playing in the woods, and they must’ve accidentally touched an unknown cursed object. They were brought in barely conscious and with a mother completely beside herself. So of course, ‘the widely renowned and highly acclaimed, capable-of-the-impossible Healer Black’ was the only one who might save them. And he has, as they seem to be recovering,” James adds, relieved. “But really, there aren’t many excuses that would justify him not being here, but having to save children’s lives is definitely one of them.”

“Thank Merlin those children are alright. That sounds- Wait,” he says, before sitting up. “Healer Black? You know Healer Black?”

James blinks at him. “Ehm... Yeah?”

“Merlin, that man is so handsome!” he exclaims. “He was here for like two minutes, before he got called away to other patients, but I just can’t stop thinking about him! He already looks perfect, and now you’re telling me that he’s some kind of miracle Healer saving children’s lives?” He sighs. “It’s just not fair.”

At first, James still looks confused. Then his eyes widen in understanding, and his mouth starts twitching like he’s trying to hold back laughter.

He doesn’t blame him. He’d laugh at himself too, with how ridiculous he’s been acting over this random Healer. He just hopes he won’t have embarrassed Remus Lupin too much once his memories have returned.

“Don’t worry,” James says, in an amused voice. “Healer Black will come back as soon as he has the time.”

Now, his own eyes widen. “You really think he’d come to see me again?”

James lets out a strangled noise and starts coughing, which he strongly suspects being a laugh quickly covered up by a cough. “Yes,” James replies, suppressed laughter still sounding through in his voice. “I really think so.”

He knows it’s rather pathetic, but as he’s got nothing better to do, he did it anyway. He practiced what he’s going to say to Healer Black when, or if, he comes back.

He’ll tilt his head slightly downwards, so he’ll look up at the man through his lashes, and then he’ll give him a coy smile, while softly saying ‘Healer Black. It’s so good to see you again. I’ve heard many great things about you, and what you did for those children is truly admirable.’ Luckily, flirting seems to fall under semantic memory.

However, when the moment comes that Healer Black enters the room again, his carefully constructed plan falls apart.

At first, he’s stunned that yes, Healer Black really looks like that, and he hasn’t made it better in his head. Alright, the man has bags under his eyes, his robes are rumpled, and his hair is slightly greasy and so much strands are peaking out of his bun, making it look more messy than what would qualify as a normal messy bun, but he still looks like the most beautiful person in the world. He doesn’t even notice Aubrey and James walk in after Healer Black.

He opens his mouth to deliver his carefully practiced lines, but the words die in his throat as Healer Black... Well, flings himself at him. He literally splays out on top of him, hugging him close and pressing his face in the crook of his neck. “I missed you so much,” Healer Black murmurs against his skin.

He freezes. Yes, he has forgotten quite a lot, but he’s still pretty sure this is not the standard operating procedure for Healers to greet their patients. “Erm...” He says, once again ever so eloquently.

Healer Black lifts his head and looks up at him in confusion, but he can’t possibly be more confused than he’s feeling.

James scrapes his throat. “Remus, may I introduce you to Healer Sirius Black-Lupin, your husband?”

“So neither one of you decided to tell him?” Healer Black has crossed his arms over his chest and is glaring at Audrey and James.

“I’m sorry, Healer Black!” Aubrey squeaks. “I know I should’ve told him, but it was just too cute, watch him be all smitten with his own husband.”

He isn’t really listening. He’s openly staring at Healer Black. Apparently, he bloody married the guy, so it’s allowed, right?

“I don’t know how you pulled this off, Remus Lupin,” he whispers under his breath. “But thank you, and kudos to you, mate, kudos to you.”

As he looks at Healer Black up and down (at some point he’ll really have to stop referring to his husband as Healer Black, probably), he suddenly really wishes for his memories to come back fast, as there are some things he’d really like to remember.

Though on the other hand, he thinks, biting his lip, maybe ‘Healer Black’ won’t mind freshening up his memory in the meantime?

“Ugh,” Remus groans, hiding his face against Sirius’ chest. “I can’t believe I was practically drooling over you!”

Sirius chuckles while he’s rubbing soft circles on Remus’ back. “You were cute.”

As a reply, Remus just groans again.

“I’m sorry, though,” Sirius says, suddenly quietly. “It wouldn’t have happened if I had been by your side as I was supposed to be.”

Remus lifts up his head to look at Sirius. “Hey, none of that! You were saving lives.” He presses a quick kiss to his husband’s lips. “You wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, and I wouldn’t have wanted you to be anywhere else.”

Sirius smiles softly at him, and Remus lays his head back on his chest. “Besides, it was a good reminder that I should be more proud of my accomplishment to get Healer Black to marry me.”

Sirius barks a laugh, that Remus can feel vibrating in his chest. “And how exactly was me down on one knee practically begging you to become my husband ‘you getting me to marry you’?”

Remus smiles fondly, happy that that memory is safely back in his head. “And it was nice to feel like having a new crush again,” he continues. “ All exhilarated, enraptured, and in awe.”

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of Remus’ head. “I feel like that every time I look at you.”

[itsallyscorner]

Bring Me Back

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Filming “Cherry” had its ups and downs for Tom. When filming finally takes its toll on him, you’re there to instantly bring him back from the world of Cherry.

Warnings: Mentions of drug abuse, PTSD, murder. A smidge of smut.

A/n: In honor of the Cherry🍒 trailer dropping, I decided to write this!

(GIF creds: @atealiers )

Any kind of project was a blessing to Tom. He loved being an actor. He was fond of telling stories through the big screen and got a kick from portraying many different characters. Acting was something he felt passionate about, it was his craft and he was very dedicated when it came to becoming his roles. Cherry was quite different from the other movies he’s been in. It was dark and contained many subjects like drug addiction, PTSD, and crime. The world of Cherry was something Tom was not used to; it was twisted. He hasn’t been exposed to things like drugs or the events that Nico Walker had been through. Which was why he was hesitant to take on the role of Cherry.

When the Russo Brothers approached him with the idea, he was excited. He was getting the opportunity to tell another story and would explore the world of a new character. Though the more he looked into it, he realized that maybe he wasn’t up for the role. Was he really ready to dive into the dark and traumatizing life of Nico Walker? As an actor, he was willing to take the job, it would give him an opportunity to expand his career and would possibly be one of his best work. As Tom, he wasn’t sure if he could handle learning or re-enacting the events that occurred in Cherry. But Tom did like a challenge, which was why he ended up agreeing to become Cherry.

He prepared himself mentally and physically pre- production. For research, he interviewed army veterans and former drug addicts to get an idea of what it was like to be in those positions. To get the look of Cherry, he did a variety of things. For example, going on a diet and losing weight, then gaining said weight again once they had to shoot the army scenes. Another thing he did was shave off the gorgeous brown curls that adorned his head. At first you weren’t too happy with his change in hairstyle, but later on you found yourself running your hands along the short strands of hair, loving the fuzzy feeling it gave your palms.

After the interviews and hearing others’ experience, Tom felt a level of responsibility to tell the story of millions of people around the world. Not only was it telling the story of Nico, but of other army veterans who suffered from PTSD and people who’ve had drug addictions. He was fully on board now and there was no looking back. He was going to push himself to the limit and to places he’s never been before.

Filming was tough. There were scenes he had to do that were so unlike him, that felt wrong, and sometimes he just had to take a step back. They didn’t feel right, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. This was his job, if he wanted this movie to be the best that it can, he was going to commit. Thankfully, he was working with the Russos, who he’s known for a while now. He was familiar with the two and they were patient with him, giving him the time to regain himself before shooting an intense scene. The cast and crew were very understanding as well, creating a safe space for him on set. Having Harry along with him helped as well, the familiarity of his brother kept him grounded and avoided him from falling into the void of Cherry. Though he had all these supportive people around him, there was only one person who could calm him down when things got suffocating on set. The only person he wanted to be in Cleveland with him but wasn’t. You. Since you had your own life and job, you were unable to fly out to Cleveland with him. Instead you stayed at your shared home with Tessa as company. All he needed was you when he felt the affects of Cherry caging in on him. Just the sound of your comforting voice over the phone could clear his head and make him breath again.

He had his bad days on set, where he would have to take a moment and hide in his trailer for a few minutes. During those few minutes he liked to be alone as he waited for you to answer your phone. The line would ring, it’d stop, then the sound of your sweet voice would be the only thing he’d hear. Sometimes you didn’t answer the first time, but nonetheless you answered eventually. It wasn’t the same as having you with him in person, you had your responsibilities, and he understood that. He just wished that one day you’d come to Cleveland. He wanted to be in your arms, stuff his face into your neck, breath in your familiar scent, he just wanted to feel you. You were his home. His safe haven. And it was all he wanted right now.

•

Glancing at your phone, you wondered why Tom hasn’t texted you yet. Not that you were itching for him to text you, but because around this time he would be blowing up your phone telling you things that happened during filming or how his day was going. You decided that filming probably went into overtime making him busy during his break. You shrug to yourself and continue working on your laptop.

You hear the sound of Tessa’s nails clicking against the floors as she enters the office of your home. You greet her with a smile as she settles herself beside your legs.

“Is it dinner time already, Tess?” You scratch her head as you glance at the time on your screen. It was currently nine at night, a bit late for dinner, but you haven’t noticed.

“Just give me five more minutes and I’ll get us dinner. How does that sound, love?” A somewhat sound of approval emits from Tessa. You get back to work, fingers typing away as you finish off the last of your work.

You finish in four minutes, finally satisfied with your work. You let out a content sigh and turn your laptop off. When you get up you stretch and let your bones crack after being in the same position for hours. Tessa joins you, stretching out her front paws then shaking her body out. You chuckle as you lead the way to the kitchen. Taking the scoop for Tessa’s kibble, you fill her bowl up, causing the dog to look up in curiosity. Once you placed the bowl down, her tail wagged wildly as she stuffed her face into her food.

You decided on going for something simple, ramen noodles. You were too tired too cook anything and ramen noodles were the quickest thing to cook in your pantry. While you waited for the noodles to heat up you checked your phone. You went through your notifications, but there were still no texts from Tom. Though you were concerned, you assumed that they had a long shooting day, making him too busy to text. 

Hi love! I hope you’re doing well in Cleveland. I know you’re probably busy, but hopefully filming isn’t tiring you out too much. Have an amazing day! Don’t forget to drink some water from time to time and eat :) Tess and I miss you and love you so much! Talk soon xxx

You send the text with a smile. He won’t read it till he was free or done with filming, but you knew he’d see the message while you were asleep.

The microwave beeps, letting you know that your food was done. You end your night catching up on episodes of New Girl and eating soup. When you were done you did your nightly routine and settled in bed. You turn the lights off and snuggled under the warm sheets.

“Night Tessa.” You whisper to her. A huff comes out of her as she makes herself comfortable on the foot of your bed. When the both of you were settled, you slowly drifted off to sleep.

Buzz

Buzz

The harsh vibrations of your phone shook you awake. Desperate for sleep, you blindly grab your phone and turn it off. Silence fills the room again as you turn around to stuff your face into Tom’s pillow. You were slowly drifting back to sleep when your phone began to vibrate again. With a groan you stretch back and snatch for phone off the night stand. You don’t bother looking at the caller id.

“Hello?” Your voice rasps out.

“Thank God you answered.” The person on the other line said. “I know you’re busy, but how soon can you visit Cleveland?” The deep voice was belonged to Harry.

“Uh—I’m not too sure, I’ll need to check in with my boss.” You reply. When you start feeling more awake you become curious as to why Harry can be calling you. “Why? Is everything ok? How’s Tom? I haven’t heard from him all day.”

The younger Holland sighs. He takes a moment to answer your questions making you suffer in silence, wondering what could have happened to your boyfriend. “Um, they’ve been shooting some intense scenes lately. Tom’s been trying his best but everyone’s noticed that he’s been a bit different.”

You sit up in bed feeling more awake. “What do you mean by different, Haz?”

“Well he’s snapped at the Russos quite a few times. There was this one scene, that they shot multiple times, and Tom would just break down after every one. (Y/n), I’m concerned for my brother, I don’t know what else to do. He’s locked himself in his room after every shoot. A—and I don’t know. I’ve tried to tell him that he can talk to me but he wouldn’t.” Harry explained, his voice croaked. You heart felt heavy for him. Harry was always there for his older brother, so to see him feel so helpless made you feel sorry.

“Haz, calm down, you know how your brother can get. How long has this been happening?”

Harry sniffed over the phone, “About a few weeks now. It’s only started becoming worse last week and now.”

The concern you felt for Tom grew. From what he’s been texting you, filming had been going great. He appeared happy on your FaceTime calls and sounded like his usual self. But maybe he actually wasn’t.

“Harry everything’s gonna be fine, alright?” You assure him. “I’ll call my boss first thing in the morning and when I get the ‘ok’ to leave I’ll get the first flight out to Cleveland. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds good. Can you tell me if you can make it? I’ll have someone come with me to pick you up at the airport.” His voice is quiet, almost muffled.

“Yeah I will, don’t worry.”

“Ok, thank you (y/n).” A small smile forms on your lips. You rub the sleep out your eyes as you glance at your closet. “Alright Haz, I’m gonna go now. But if there’s anything else, just text me or call.”

“I know, stay safe (y/n).” You bid him goodbye and place your phone on the empty space beside your side of the bed. Tom’s side of the bed. You bite your lip in thought as you worry about your boyfriend. You knew he was doing almost everything he can to make sure the movie came out perfect. If that meant shredding himself emotionally and physically, he was going to do it. Tom was dedicated to his work, but he’s never done anything close to Cherry, making you worried about the thoughts that could possibly be going through your lover’s head.

Tessa, who’s now woken up, waddles closer to you, sensing your uneasiness. You appreciate the dog’s gesture and pull her into your side, resting your chin on her head. You were basically sleepless the whole night. Although you haven’t emailed your boss yet, you already had a suitcase packed of your clothes. Your passport and other important belongings were already in a bag, ready to leave London.

The morning had been hectic. You’ve managed to get two hours of sleep, waking up at six in the morning. Still in bed, you sent your boss an email about a family emergency and how you needed to be out of the country for at least a week. As if the gods above knew of your situation, your boss willingly let you go, no questions asked and gave you well wishes. With that out the way, you scowered the Internet for flights to Cleveland. Luck was on your side that morning because you’ve booked a flight that took off in the afternoon. With your bags packed, you drove to Nikki and Dom’s to drop off Tessa.

Now all checked in, you were at Heathrow Airport waiting to be called for your flight. You were sat at your gate, with an iced coffee and a croissant from Starbucks, texting Harry. The two of you were discussing the time you’d arrive and how he’d pick you up. When you were both in agreement, you two decided to catch up. He had been in Tom’s trailer eating his breakfast. An hour passes and you were being called to board the plane.

You settle in your seat, but your leg bounced in anticipation. After the things Harry told you, you just wanted to have your boyfriend in your arms. You knew everything was probably getting to his head, all you wanted to do was hold him and tell him that he was going to be ok. As the plane began to take off, your lack of sleep caught up on you. Throughout the whole flight, you slept soundly, the worries of Tom subsiding for the time being.

~🛬~

The plane lands in Cleveland safely. It was night when you arrived. With your bags, you looked around the airport for a familiar curly haired boy. Harry waves wildly at you before running and pulling you into a tight hug. You laugh wrapping your arms around the slender boy.

“How’s your day been, Haz?” You ruffle his hair as he rolls your suitcase to the parking lot. He shrugs, “The usual. Was on set with Tom, ran around and got things for him, nothing much happened honestly. But you’re here now, so this is the highlight of my night.”

The two of you approach a black car with a driver inside, Harry motions for him to unlock the trunk. He lifts your case in before the two of you get into the backseat.

“How was your flight?” Harry asks you. The car began to move, exiting the airport and entering the highway.

“I slept through all of it, I don’t remember a thing about the flight besides getting on and off it.” You chuckle, leaning your head back against the headrest.

Harry nudges your shoulder, “Thanks for coming out with such short notice.” You wave him off. “It’s no worries, anything for my boys.”

The car is quiet, the only sounds that could be heard is the car’s wheels against the pavement. You turn to Harry, “How was he today?”

“He was pretty good in the morning.” Harry started. “Then filming started and he would grow frustrated after a few scenes. His temper’s been short. He snapped at me during lunch, which is normal, but I just asked him if he wanted some water. He broke down after a certain scene today, I tried talking to him but he still wouldn’t open up about it.” Tom wasn’t too open about his feelings sometimes. He struggled to voice them at times making all his frustrations and feelings bottled up in his head.

Half an hour later and you guys arrive at Tom’s rented home in Atlanta. As soon as you opened the door, you felt the heavy atmosphere. It was somber and tense, the chilliness of the weather also felt inside the house. Harry gestures up the stairs, “Don’t worry, go see him. His room is the first door on the left.”

You quietly thank him and climb up the stairs. You find his door, taking a deep breath before knocking. You hear some shuffling behind the door, “Harry I’m fine! Leave me alone!” His voice was deep, a bit scratchy. You frown at the door.

“Tom?” The room falls quiet. Suddenly you hear fumbling and the sound of heavy footsteps behind the door. The door opens and you finally see him. He was dressed in a large shirt with sweatpants. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, eyes glassy, and chapped lips.

“(Y/n)? You’re here?” He asks you in disbelief. A tight lipped grin forms on your lips.

“Yeah, Har—“ You were going to explain how you got there but he immediately threw himself at you. His arms wrap tightly around your figure, his head dipped into your neck, pulling your closer into him. One of your arms go around his neck while the other rubs his back soothingly. A whimper bubbles out of him, his shoulders beginning to shake. You managed to shuffle the both of you back into his room, closing the door behind you.

“You’re ok.” You whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. His grip around you never falters. Though he was much taller than you, he seemed so small at the moment. His body drowned in the shirt he wore, making him look thinner. You feel tears soaking into your shirt, making your heart clench in pain. You rest your forehead against his shoulder, holding and whispering sweet nothings into his ear until he was ready to speak.

A few minutes pass until his removes his head from your neck. You frown at his tear stained face, his eyes and cheeks red from quietly sobbing into your shoulder. Your hands cup his face, wiping the trails of tears on his cheeks. Tom leans closer to your touch, his eyes shut while his lips kiss your palm.

“I’m sorry, you’re probably tired from the flight.” He apologizes but you shake your head. You lead him to his bed and sit against the headboard. Tom follows in suit, desperately trying to get closer to you. His arms wrap around your torso, his head rests on your chest, while your legs tangle themselves together.

“I’ve had plenty of sleep on the flight, how are you?” Your lips are against his short hair from holding him so close. You nails scratch softly at his hair, calming him down.

“I don’t know if I could finish it.” He quietly admits. He shakes his head at himself.

“Why’s that, Tom?” Your boyfriend takes a deep breath as he sits up, removing himself from your touch. He sits across from you with legs crossed as he holds his head in his hands.

“I—I, it’s too much. There’s so much fucked up things he’s done. And all the things he’s seen. I just—sometimes I feel like it’s me who’s committed all of those things. When we shoot the scenes in the war and when I had to do drugs and rob banks, I felt like I lost myself—“ He cries interrupting himself to take a breath in. Compared to your fingers that ran gently through his hair, his clawed at his head. His palms rub harshly at his face, turning his skin a bright tint of red. To see Tom in such pain made you sad. You hated seeing him like this.

You gently remove his hands from scratching at his face and hold them in his lap. He stares down at your hands, clinging onto them as if his life depended on it. “I get lost in the character sometimes and I have to pull myself out of it to bring me back. But it keeps on happening over and over again. Then the Russos kept telling me to reshoot the scene more like Cherry, and I lost it and yelled at them.” You feel his tears fall to your your hands, making tears well up in your own eyes. You shuffle closer to him and kiss his forehead before pulling him into you. You stay quiet, letting him get whatever he wanted to get out.

Tom’s face is against your shoulder again. He sniffs before continuing, “It’s like everyday I find something he and I have in common. Then I think that maybe I’m turning into him. I don’t want him to be part of me. (Y/n), I don’t want to be him, I don’t want to do the things he’s done.” He sobs into your shoulder. Your heart breaks at how broken he sounded. His shoulders shook again, his back burning up with tension. A few tears made it’s way down your cheeks as you pulled his face away from you.

“Look at me.” You urged him. His jaw clenched, still looking down at his lap. He shook his head in response. “Tom, please. Look at me.” Your voice cracks. He slowly tilts his head up, your eyes connecting. He didn’t have that twinkle in his eyes, it’s like they’ve lost the light in them. Instead they were dark, like there was no life behind them. There was a mix of sadness, confusion, and even fear in his eyes.

You sadly smiled at him, cupping his face with your hands. “You’re not going to be him. You never will. You’re Tom. You are nothing close to Nico or Cherry. You are the sweetest man I have known in the world, you wouldn’t even hurt a damn fly. You’re not him. I know you aren’t. You wouldn’t do the things he’s ever done even if you were forced to. I know you Tom, I assure you, you’re nothing like him.” Tom hiccups, gripping onto your wrists.

“When this is all over and you’re done filming, we can forget about him. We won’t even mention him.” You assure him, stroking his cheeks.

“What if—,” You cut him off.

“No, there’s no what if’s. You’re going to be fine Tom. You’re surrounded by people who love you and will make you realize that you’re nothing even near him. You are the kindest man ever, you love your family, you care about your fans, and your brothers. You’re busy always taking care of everyone else, I think it’s time you take care of yourself, love.” You tell him. A small smile is on your face but it falters, “You don’t have to go through this alone, Tom.”

Tom takes a shaky breath in. “You’ll be there right?” He asks like a child making sure his mother will be there when he wakes up. “You’ll be there with me to bring me back?”

Your thumb smooths the crinkle between his brows, “I always will. I promise.” He nods and pulls you into him. You climb onto his lap and settle on his legs. He stares up at you, one of his his hands supporting your back, the other pressed against your cheek. “Thank you. I missed you so much. I’m sorry for not texting, everything’s just been so taxing mentally and physically.”

“No, don’t worry I get it.” You turn your face to press a light kiss on his palm. For the first time since you’ve seen him, Tom managed to crack a smile on his lips. He moves some strands of hair away from your face before resting his large hand on the back of your head. “I love you. I love you so much, (y/n).”

“I love you too, Tom.” You whisper against his lips. He takes that as a sign to finally crash your lips together. After months being apart, the feeling of his lips against yours felt like coming home. The kiss was desperate, like it was the air you both breathed. Tom had been longing for your touch, he craved you every second of the day, whether it be sexually or just missing you. The kiss grew rough, your teeth clashing, tongues poking and gliding against each other.

Tom lays you down on the bed, hovering over you. His hands grab and stroke at your body, trying to pull off your clothes to get close to your skin. He suddenly pulls away from your lips. “I need you. Please, I need you.” He almost begs you. Panting, you nod and push him to lay on his back. “Ok, let me take care of you, Tommy.”

He yanks his shirt off, throwing it to the side. You do the same, leaning down to meet his lips again. You kiss your way along his jaw and down to his neck. When you find that certain spot, he lets out a throaty groan, head falling back against the pillows. You run your nails along his chiseled abs and slightly roll your hips against his growing length. Tom grunts, hands instantly connecting to your ass and gripping onto your cheeks. He helps you roll your hips more, deeper with more friction against you two.

“Mm, Tom. I missed you.” You moan against his neck. You bite down and soothe the spot with your tongue after.

Tom looks down at you, lifting his hips to meet your clothes pussy. “Fucking miss you so much. You have no idea how much I’ve been dreaming of being buried in you again.” You kiss your way down his chest, but Tom stops you. His hands grab onto your leggings and slide them off.

“N-no foreplay. I need to feel you.” He stutters out, mouth agape. You nod in agreement and take his sweatpants off along with his boxers. You spit in your hand, running your hand along his dick to give it some wetness. Tom helps you lift yourself over him and guides your hips down his erected cock. You let out a combination of a sigh and moan as your walls envelop and stretch around him. Tom slightly sits up against the headboard, your tightness wrapping around him. He lets out a cry of relief, your walls around him feeding his cravings. You use his shoulders as leverage to pull yourself up but Tom stops you.

“What’s wrong?” You eye him cautiously. Tom shakes his head, “Nothing’s wrong. I just—can we stay like this for a while? I just want to feel you, please?”

“Yeah, we can do that.” You send him a reassuring smile as you settle back down on him. His hands make themselves comfortable around your waist. You maneuver your arms under his and wrap them around his back. Tom smiles at you, rubbing your back and guiding you into his chest. Before you can nuzzle your face into his neck, he presses a kiss to your temple and lets his fingers get tangled in your hair.

With his eyes closed in bliss, he whispers, “Thank you for bringing me back. I love you.”

You kiss his collarbone basking in the feeling him being so close to you. “I’ll always be here. I love you too.”

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Time to Wake Up

Febuwhump 2022: Alt 4. "I dreamt you were alive." (for day #14)

Fandom: Marvel, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 1331

Note: Set between Infinity War and Endgame

Sequel to Nightmares (but can be read independently from it)

@febuwhump, @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly

As you walked through the cemetery for what seemed like the thousandth time, you can’t help but note how much more crowded it used to be when you first started coming here five years ago. Back then, you had to carefully push your way past large groups of mourners to make it to your destination. Today, it seems like you are the only one here. But you guessed after so long, people move on, they forget. But not you. And that is the problem.

As you reached your desired headstone, you brushed off a few leaves from the top before placing a light kiss on the stone. Then, as you crouched down and stared at the inscription, you whispered with a small smile, “Hey, Buck. I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see you for a while. Things are….they’re not great. The world has kinda fallen apart since everyone disappeared. I thought things would have gotten better by now, but I guess when half the world’s population just vanishes into thin air, it takes a while to adjust. But I’ve told you all of this before.”

Your smile dropped from your face and was replaced by a teary-eyed expression instead. “I need to talk to you about something and I’m not sure how to start. But maybe if you understand how I’m feeling, you’ll understand why I’ve made the choice I have.” You looked down sadly at the flowers that were still clutched in your hands. “I dreamt you were alive last night. Well, that’s kind of misleading. I dream you’re alive every night. That you hold me in your arms, you pull me tight against your chest, and you make all the pain go away. And for those few hours, it’s the only time I feel at home. But as soon as I wake up, that hurt is fresh all over again. I lose you once more every morning. And for a while, it was worth it. The new heartbreak over and over for a few hours in your arms.

“But here’s the thing Bucky….I can’t do it anymore. It hurts too bad, and I have to find a way to get past it, past you. Because as much as I keep trying to tell myself there may be a way to bring you back, I don’t think I really believe that anymore. I lost you five years ago, and I just need to accept that. And the first thing I need to do is stop coming here, at least for a while. Being here, talking to you, it’s not good for me. I know that, I’ve always known that. Only it’s been too hard to stay away.

“But there are people who are still here who need my help and I can’t do that if I am still grieving you all over again every single day. I hope, wherever you are, you can hear me and you understand. This doesn’t mean I don’t still love you, that I won’t still love you for the rest of my life. Because I will. But I need to move on. It's time for me to stop living in the dream. It's time for me to finally wake up. So, I think this is goodbye. Maybe someday, I can come back and it won’t hurt as much. But for now, I won’t be returning. Hopefully, one day in the future when my time is up, we will meet again. But until that time…” You leaned over and placed another, longer kiss to the headstone. Though it was made of granite and not metal, the cold, hard surface reminded you of his arm and for a brief moment, you let yourself have the illusion that that was what you were kissing instead. But then, you pulled away, laid the flowers down, and walked out of the cemetery without looking back.

As you approached your car, you saw a familiar figure leaning against the passenger door with his arms folded across his chest, waiting for you. Ducking your head slightly and pulling your coat tighter around you, you walked past him and over to the driver’s side door. He pushed off the door and followed you over to the other side of the car.

With a deep sigh, you muttered. “What are you doing here, Steve? I thought you promised not to come by when I was here.”

“I’m sorry, but I needed to talk to you, and I figured this would be the only place I’d be able to track you down. Nat refused to give me your home address.”

“Good. She promised me she wouldn’t. I told you before, I don’t want anything else to do with you.”

“Listen, I shouldn’t have said those things. I was just as upset as you were, and they just slipped out. I didn’t mean it.”

You chuckled humorlessly. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘Pay attention to what people say out of anger, they've been dying to tell you that’? And I’m pretty sure you had been dying to tell me what you really thought of me for a long time.” You tried snatching the car door open, but Steve held it shut.

“Fine. Maybe I do think you’ve been wallowing in self-pity too long and shirking your responsibilities to the team and, quite frankly, the world. We all lost people but the rest of us have pulled ourselves together enough to try and make the best out of this situation. For everyone, not just us. But I had no right to say you weren’t worthy of him. He loved you more than I have ever seen him love someone and I know you loved him just the same. And as much as I miss him, I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through. So, for that, I am sorry.”

You stared down at your feet, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. “Fine. Whatever. Just tell me what you want so we can both be on our way.”

Steve took a deep breath. “We think we found a way to bring everyone back.”

Your head jerked up sharply and you scanned his face for any sign that he was lying. However, he looked completely sincere. “When did you figure this out? How?”

“Scott Lang.”

Your face furrowed in confusion. “Ant-Man? But he disappeared in the snap.”

“That’s what we thought too…. Until he showed up at the compound last week. He’s been trapped in what he calls the Quantum Zone. It’s really complicated and scientific but, based on the information he gave us, Bruce and Tony think they found a way to retrieve the stones from the past and fix everything. Everyone could come back.”

“Wait…are you suggesting time travel?” When he nodded, you scoffed and shoved him out of the way, finally gaining access to your car. You climbed in and started to shut the door, but Steve’s superhuman strength held it open with ease.

“This will work. But we need your help. You are one of, if not the, top-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent left. If we are going to try to steal the stones right from under S.H.I.E.L.D.’s noses, we are going to need some inside help.” He saw you hesitate, your refusal of support starting to waiver. “Please, we can’t do this without you.”

You ran your hands over your face before glancing at your old friend. “Steve…I can’t do this unless you promise me this will work. I just got to a place where I think I can finally move on. If you drag me back there, you give me hope, and it doesn’t work….I won’t be able to survive that.”

Steve’s clear, blue eyes bore into yours, once again filled with complete sincerity. “We will bring them back, whatever it takes.”

You looked up at him and, after a moment, nodded. “Whatever it takes.”

[luimagines]

Waking Up Next to Him

Masterlist

Set platonically and within the adventure. It’s long so it goes under the cut!

Time

The bright sunlight winked just beyond your eyelids at an blinding angle. Your back was against warm though and was surprisingly comfortable despite the growing ache in your neck. There’s a weight over your shoulder, pinning you in place but doesn’t dig in. A thrown blanket is covering your body and the secret weight, even if half of it has ended up on the forest floor. You’re too tired to think of what the weight can be. All you know is that it’s comfortable and you don’t feel like moving. A heartbeat passes and the solid form on which you lay shifts. 

A groan.

More shifting.

Heat flushes your face slightly as you resign to get up, trying to play the whole cool, once you realize what, or rather who you passed out against.

“Mornin’ Time.”

Your pillow takes a minute to assess the situation.

It’s early, none of the others are up yet. Too tired from the journey the day prior, but the resident chef wakes up the earliest to cook breakfast on time. He’s asleep now but won’t be for long. You thank the stars and your luck that you woke up before him. No pictures for him to take this time.

Time grins, seemingly unbothered by the events and sighs good naturedly. “Good morning.”

Twilight

It was a cold night. They told you it would be. Both your traveling companions and the breeze as you settled with the day’s end.

But you couldn’t have guessed how cold it turned out to be.

Sleep didn’t come easy. Discomfort and shivers kept you awake. Your blankets were warm but not warm enough. At some point, in the middle of the night, you gain the warmth your tired brain was waiting for before drifting off to sleep. 

When you wake, you can’t breath.

Hairs tickle your mouth and nose and there’s a large and heavy being on top of you. At first you think it’s Wind because the shape is much to large to be four but smaller than some of your other companions.

Further analysis and you realize that it’s not hair but fur, that’s threating to enter your lungs and the color of the material seems awfully familiar.

“...Wolfie, I love you but you’re killing me. Get off.” You weakly push the beast away, not coherent enough to move your limbs and piece together how to be a functioning human yet.

The creatures blinks up at you, having just woken up as well and notices your open eyes. A yawn and crushed ribbed where he stepped to get off later and your freedom has been duel earned.

You take a breath of relief and grin, only now noticing the cold with the rising sun to be a little more barrable than the previous night.

“Thanks buddy, you’re a walking heater. I probably would have been a popsicle if it hadn’t been for you.” He nods in acknowledgment and swiftly turns away before you can reach behind his ears to thank him properly.

You look up and see Wild and Time already awake, not talking. Warrior looks to just have woken like you today. Not unusual but welcoming nonetheless. Wind and Sky probably won’t wake up for another hour or two and Hyrule and Four always wake up a little after them. No one knows for sure when Legend will get up because its never consistent and Twilight seems to be missing as well.

The ranch hand emerges from the tree line seconds after you realize he was gone to begin with. He smiles at you and waves in greeting.

You wave back and try to dust the wolf hairs off of your clothes.

You missed Twilight’s subtle smirk.

Warrior

It was a hard fight and not a safe place to stay put but the dungeon left you with little option. Separated from the group and low on provisions and healing items, you and Warrior realize that your both running low on fumes. Taking refuge in a secluded corner, hopefully far away from any potential monsters and threats, you rest.

Waking up is hell.

Sleeping back to back was probably not the best idea but neither of you wanted to risk an ambush. Shifts were supposed to be taken but given that you both fell asleep says something about your energy levels and the previous fights.

Your neck hurts, your legs are sore, your butt and hips are not thanking you for the treatment and everything ache will familiar but expected battle wounds. None major but each one takes its toll.

“You up?” Warrior stands up as if he wasn’t bleeding from the shoulder yesterday and he also didn’t sleep sitting for who knows how many hours.

“I am clearly sitting Captain.” You mutter. “I am not up. I refuse to be up.”

“You know as well as I do that we have to get to the others. What if they need help?”

“I’d argue we need the help. Everything hurts. We have no fairies and there’s more dungeon ahead of us with obviously more enemies and traps and puzzles...” The puzzles... were the worst. “Just five more minutes....Please?”

Warrior says your name in a way a tired mother tries to get her stubborn child to listen to reason. His face twists at the idea and when he attempts to look over his shoulder to check your surroundings, it instead contorts in a pained grimace.

So his shoulder pain was still there after all.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

Sky

As expected, Sky goes down for the count within the first few minutes of the mandated lunch break. Unfortunately after a rumble or two and strange smoke coming from the distance that decidedly wasn’t there when you first arrived, the group decided to investigate.

Legend goes to shake Sky’s shoulder in an attempt to wake him but it’s all in vain.

Sticks are drawn after a long and loud argument about what to do and yours in the shortest.

Everyone else goes to check out the commotion and you are stuck with babysitting duty. It’s not bad all things considered- he’s asleep- no actual babysitting happening. But part of you can help but grumble about missing the action so you sit non too gently next to him and decidedly not pout.

Your stomach is full and the sun light begins to feel heavy and warm and nice.

Your eyes close before you can fight it.

Some time later, you’re shaken awake. Adrenaline fills your system instantly but upon seeing the laughing face of Sky himself, you remember yourself and only marginally resist the urge punch him.

“Feel better?” You ask instead.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He chuckles and points to his chin.

You wipe across the area and your hands comes back wet, cold and covered in drool. 

“You saw nothing.”

“Oh sure, but Wind did.”

Great.

Now it’s on his pictobox. That’s blackmail material in his favor, you suppose and refuse to acknowledge it further.

Wild

When you wake up, it’s still dark. Not even close to sunrise.

The fire burns bright and warm throughout the area but it’s not the fire that’s keeping you warm.

You also find out you can’t move.

You crane your head slightly to find long hair draped over your shoulder and a familiar scarred ear belonging to the resident champion.

He wrapped around you completely, hugging you tightly and pining you down with a leg to boot. 

You attempt to shimmy out but his grip tightens instead.

You sighed and watch as Twilight comes into view. He crouches closer and squats on Wild’s side, whispering to you. “Do you need help getting out? I can wake him to take over Hyrule’s shift for the night.”

You take a minute to rethink about your position. It’s not painful. The opposite actually. It feel nice. You’ve seen Wild cling to who ever he can get his hands on when he sleeps so you’re not surprise. 

You don’t need to pee or leave anytime soon anyway.

“No, I think I’m good actually.” You reply, whispering as well. “Let him sleep, it’s been a day for everyone.”

Twilight nods and leaves, but not without looking back once or twice in case you changed your mind.

You shimmy back in place and allow yourself to be held by your friend. 

Sleep comes easier this time.

Hyrule

Gentle fingers card through your hair. Warmth, magic and the unusual feeling of safety plague your mind. Confusion hits you but the alarm that typically follows never comes.

“Oh thank goodness, you’re awake.” A voice fills your ears. It’s muffled and must have been quiet to begin with because you can’t make out who said it yet. 

Organizing your thoughts feels like traveling through knee high mud.

Your eyes blink open and the light comes through.

The Traveler is leaning over you, thankfully blocking out most of the sun from immediately assaulting you. 

“Hyrule?”

“You had us worried for a minute.” He visually sags with relief, a tired smile on his face and leans back. “You took quite a hit.”

Your head feels swollen but as Hyrule continues to push your hair back it dissipates as time passes. Your thoughts clear and with his help, you sit up.

A hand places itself by your temple. It takes a half second before you realize it’s yours.

It comes back covered in dried blood.

Sky runs over after tending to Four with what looks like a bloodied wet cloth. He sits down slowly and begins to clean your head in a familiar fashion.

“Thank you. Both of you.” You tired voice comes through and a worn out smile follows soon after.

“Anytime.”

Wind

It’s nice day. 

According to some people.

Dark clouds cover the sky, the sun nowhere to be seen. It pours cats and dogs and the only cover for miles is a lone cave where your group currently takes up residence. Everyone’s wet and your clothes feel heavy and cold. No one is happy. 

Wild, Twilight and Legend dive deeper, intending to check out if any monsters reside in the cave.

Hyrule insisted on traveling with them but Warrior’s concussion and Time’s bleeding leg call for further attention and Legend claims to have more magic restorative potions than healing potions.

He stays behind.

Four and Sky take over the food while he’s distracted, trying to make a half decent meal before he intervenes.

Wind is groaning, sore and bored but otherwise unharmed.

You don’t make any comments at your own pain, biting your tongue and taking a deep breath. As you lean against the stone wall, Wind stomps up next to you and sits down with purpose.

“I could’ve gone with them.” He slams his fist into his cheek with his elbow on his knee.

“But you didn’t. It’s not so bad.” You said.

“They didn’t want me to go.”

“You’ll live.”

“I’m just as good as them you know.”

“I know and you make a better pillow.” You says, throwing yourself sideways with your head landing on his lap. He squawks indignantly and attempts to push you off but you hold on. “Sorry, you make the best pillow.”

“NOOOO!”

“YEEEESSS!”

“Nooooo.” Wind keeps his hands on your back but you’ve misjudged your exhaustion. You’re out in seconds.

A moment passes.

“Hey, hey, hey.... wake up. You have to eat.” A small hand shakes your shoulder.

“Hm?” You blinked tiredly. There’s a bowl if front of your face and you don’t hesitate to grab it. “Thanks.”

“You’re heavy.” A voice calls from behind. The owner lets you take the bowl and begins to gently push you off into a sitting position. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“It was supposed to be a joke but thanks for letting me sleep.” You admit and smile at the pirate. 

“You trapped me.” He pokes your side, trying to look annoyed but falling flat. There’s a joke in there somewhere. You’re missing something.

The others have come back while you were out of it, all either have hidden smiles or failing to hide their shaking shoulders and snickers.

Curious and a little self conscious you looks into the provided meal, your reflection greeting you as always.

A lightbulb goes off over your head.

“DID YOU DRAW ON MY FACE?!”

Four

There’s a force dragging you down but there’s two arms under you.

It’s very concerning for a moment but then....the size of them catches up to you.

Your head snaps up and comes face to face with a very surprised Four.

“Hello.”

“...Hi.”

“Lovely weather we’re having, don’t you think?””

“You’re leading with that?” Four snorts and continues walking, unbothered by your weight in his arms.

“How...?” You trail off trying to find the right words to explain what happening to you. You don’t feel any pain and nothing feels injured....but the lack of memories is a little concerning.

“How am I holding you?” Four smirks as he guesses incorrectly. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“I was going to ask how did I fall unconscious. I don’t remember anything. I’m more surprised by that than the fact that you’re holding me despite being half my size.” You blinked and try to keeping searching through your memory.

Nothing comes up.

“Wizrobe.” Four answers causally with a shrug. “It caused some chaos, fought another wizrobe and you got caught in the cross fire between the two of them before we could intervene. Their attacks canceled each other out well enough that you weren’t actually injured but uhh..... Well I suppose you’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

“Four.” You glare in warning.

“Maybe don’t look at your reflection for a while. Legend, Twilight and Hyrule all agree that it’ll fade with time but...”

“What are you talking about? What happened to me?” You sit up a little in his grip, Your arm reach over his shoulders and something wrong catches your eyes.

Your skin is green.

Your shocked silence stills your entire body. Four winces once he follows your eye line and stops to place you on your own feet.

“It could be worse?”

You stare a little while longer and look back to Four with hopeful eyes. “Think you can knock me out again?

He’s not amused.

Legend

You blissfully wake up for the first time in a week. 

It’s been an easy week in terms of travel and attacks so the boys take it upon themselves to cause trouble and it hasn’t been merciful to your sleep schedule.

They are the very incarnation of that thing your hometown friend used to say. How did it go again? If there’s no trouble then I’ll create it? Something along those lines.

But this is different and you don’t plan on wasting it.

You close your eyes and attempt to go back to sleep while you can but hushed voices reached your ears, keeping you awake before you can tune them out.

“Should we wake them?”

“You know how Legend is. He can be as bad as Sky and he had a rough night to boot.”

“But he’s right on top of them and they promised to show me how to fight in hand to hand combat.”

“You have all day for that and they didn’t say it was going to be today.”

“But I‘m excited! I want to start as soon as possible.”

“Will you idiots keep it down?” A voice by your shoulder speaks up. It lacks the usual snark it posses but the intention for venom is there. “Some people took double shifts last night. Shut up.”

You breath a small sigh of relief as the voices abruptly cut off and don’t return for a long minute.

The body next to you stills.

Three heartbeats pass and the unnoticed weight gets off of you.

You pretend to be asleep still, not wanting him to push you away so early in your relationship. He’s just started to get used to you.

You’re determined to be his friend before everything ends.

He’s determined to avoid that.

It’s been a battle of wills.

An unstoppable force meets an unmovable object.

But this could tip the scales in his favor if you fail to play it off correctly.

“No one say anything.” Legend hisses. “Not. One. Word.”

You make the mistake of stretching. 

“You’re up! You’re up! You’re up!” Wind practically pounces on you, knocking his name sake out of your lungs and demolishing any chances for a peaceful morning. “We can start now!”

“Can I eat first at least?” You groan out, not bothering to fight him off.

“Wind. Off.” Time calls out and the boy follows the command without question. He quickly kneels by your side though, practically vibrating on the spot.

You sit up and look around.

Looks like you were the last one up.

“Morning everybody.” You smile. You glance at Legend who unluckily has the tips of his ears tinted red. His arms are crossed and he’s avoiding looking at you, even greeting you as the rest of the group return your call.

You smirk. “Good morning Legend. Did you sleep well?”

He huffs and turns away completely, taking a few steps to leave.

You get to your feet, shadowed by Wind and head to take your share of the food from Wild.

A beat passes without any words exchanged and you tilted your head innocently at the Veteran. You refuse to let it be awkward between you so you pretend you know nothing.

The blush travels down his ears to his face and neck. “I did. Thanks for asking.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 8) - Good Days, Bad Days

Summary: The reader has a special birthday surprise for Jensen and starts to get to know Jared more. When Jensen returns home from Toronto for good though, he and the reader have their first big fight and make more moves in their relationship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,300ish

Warnings: language, angst, fighting, smut

A/N: Enjoy!

________

Thursday Night

“So how do you want me?” asked Jensen, leaning against his closet door in nothing but his boxer briefs. 

“Oh well that’s a dangerous question,” you laughed. “Jeans are fine for where I’m taking you.”

“Alright,” he said. He ducked into the closet and returned wearing only a pair of dark jeans, smirking at you with his hands behind his back.

“Being a little shit?” you asked.

“One of my best qualities,” he said. You hummed and went past him into the closet. “So what should I be wearing on this date out?”

“I’m kinda a sucker for you a henley and flannel. Not to let that go to your head at all,” you said.

“Oh you should never watch Supernatural then,” he chuckled, grabbing a long sleeve white henley off the hanger and pulling it on.

“I did sort of start watching it,” you said. “You look like a little baby that hadn’t hit puberty yet.”

“I got better with age, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Oh yes you did,” you said. “I like it. It’s kinda scary but not too bad if you watch during the day.”

“It gets less scary pretty fast,” he said, putting on his red and gray flannel. “I all set?”

“You look very pretty,” you said, walking out with him on your tail. “So does the show end happy? Like they live? It’s got this angsty feel to it where I feel like something bad is gonna happen.”

“Do you want me to spoil it?”

“Dean doesn’t like die, right,” you said. He made a face and you frowned. “No. Why? He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Eh, calm yourself woman. Things could happen in the future...he might not have to die...or he might come back and I really shouldn’t be discussing these things.”

“You’d do more?” you asked.

“Oh for sure. On a streaming network where we get to do all the shit we couldn’t on cable. Get some fresh eyes in on the writing or maybe we’d even take a crack at it. It’s not really an if, more of a when so don’t go worrying about Dean. I like my new friends at work and everybody’s great but I miss Jared and my old ones. I’m definitely working with them again.”

“That’s great! Now come on, move that tush. We have reservations.”

“Reservations. Fancy,” he said. He put on a pair of socks and shoved his wallet in his pocket, following you out to the hall when you spun around. 

“Oh yeah,” you smirked. “You may also have a little birthday surprise waiting for your downstairs so eyes shut mister.”

“You’re devious. I like that. I like that a lot. We should explore that later in bed.”

“Tempting. I’ll have to take you up on that,” you said. “Eyes shut.”

You held his hand and he shut his eyes, going down the hall with you. You went slowly down the steps, Jensen’s arm around you the whole time. You grinned and walked him over to the family room before leaving him in place.

“Open,” you said. He blinked open his eyes, quickly landing them on a grinning Jared standing there.

“How the hell are you here?” said Jensen, Jared giving him a big hug he quickly returned. “Shit I missed you man.”

“Me too. But it’s someone’s birthday this week and I don’t have work tomorrow so I caught a flight up this afternoon. Y/N thought I’d make a good present.”

“Fucking awesome present,” he said, still grinning ear to ear. 

“You doing okay?” asked Jared, Jensen nodding. He gave him another hug and you smiled. “So how’s that crush on the nanny working out?”

“Shut up,” said Jensen, smirking as he pulled you into his side. “Jared. I know you guys met already but Y/N is your soon to be best friend just as an fyi.”

“Oh we’ve already started chatting,” you said, Jared chuckling. “He’s really sweet. I had to legit stop him from jumping on a plane that second when I texted him he thought something was wrong.”

“I think between the two of us we can keep an eye on him,” said Jared. “So you mind if I crash your date?”

“Not at all,” you said. “I’m taking both you boys out. My treat.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Jensen two hours later while he excused himself to the bathroom. Jared finished off the last of his beer and smiled as he leaned back in his corner of the booth. 

“You know I’m totally covering this right,” he said.

“Dutch?” you asked.

“I’ll take the alcohol, you take the food.”

“That I can agree to,” you said, glancing over the dessert menu. “I’m really happy you were able to come up to hang out. I know you got your own family and everything and this was last minute.”

“He’s my family too,” he said. “I’d do anything for him. Literally. Don’t ever hesitate to call me, no matter when or where. I’ll be there for him like he’s always been for me.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a smile on his face like that before.”

“I have. You just didn’t notice that night at the bonfire.” You shrugged and he cocked his head. “How long you two been dating?”

“A month or so,” you said. 

“You like him?”

“He’s alright,” you said, smiling before you took a sip from your glass. 

“Thanks for taking care of him lately.”

“Don’t need to thank me for that,” you said, sliding the dessert menu over to him.

“Yeah but I’m still going to,” he said. “I meant what I said earlier. Between the two of us he’ll be okay again.”

“He’s never gonna be the same. He’ll be happy and it won’t hurt as much. But it’ll come back and hit him time to time.”

“There’s a reason he’s my best friend and it’s not just because we worked together for so long. He’s always been there for me and I’ll be there for him. I feel better about him being up here when he’s got someone else watching his back.”

“You had the hard job, not me,” you said.

“He’s come a long way. Doesn’t mean this is a cakewalk though I’m sure.”

“No, you’re right about that,” you said as you spotted Jensen returning.

“You guys order dessert yet?” he asked, sliding in beside you.

“Why doesn’t the birthday boy pick,” teased Jared, handing the menu over to him. “You guys ought to come home for a weekend when you get a chance.”

“It’s kinda a long way to go with the kids for just a few days,” said Jensen. “But we’ll be home soon. Hopefully.”

“I can get you a gig on Walker anytime you want it dude, just ask.”

“Maybe. I kinda want to get with the guys and maybe work on that Supernatural stuff. I need good stuff to look forward to, you know?”

“I do,” said Jared. “As long as you come home eventually I’ll learn to live with just using your jet skis in the meantime.”

“See what I’ve been dealing with for over a decade?” asked Jensen.

“Oh yes. He’s horrible,” you teased. “We really shouldn’t have him sleepover then, should we?”

“You’re staying at the house?” asked Jensen with a grin.

“Duh. I didn’t just fly a thousand miles to not see you dude. I’m here all weekend. Let’s have some fun.”

“Boys I’m heading to bed,” you said around two in the morning. 

“Yeah we ought to go to bed ourselves,” said Jared.

“I’ll grab you some sheets and stuff,” said Jensen. You waved goodnight to Jared, heading down the hall towards your room when Jensen wrapped an arm around your waist. “I thought you were gonna sleep with me from now on.”

“I am. Want to check something real quick.”

“Hurry back,” he said. He kissed your temple and ducked into his room, leaving you in the hall. You went down to your own and checked your email, smirking when you saw what you were looking for. A rattling of fingers on the door made you glance up, Jensen smiling there. “Texting your other boyfriend?”

“No, I sort of...submitted one of my stories to a publisher. They’ve been talking to me this week and said they’d get back to me today on if they wanted to move forward. They want to do a five book deal. I already have the stories done and mostly drawn anyways. They gave me an offer just now.”

“That’s awesome,” he said. “Seriously. We’re gonna celebrate tomorrow for sure.”

“It’s no big deal,” you said.

“It really is,” he said. He picked you up and grinned, carrying you back to his room. “I’m proud of you.”

“They’re stupid stories,” you said.

“I love those stupid stories,” he said, setting you on the bed. “The kids do too.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re supposed to say that.” You set your phone on the nightstand and crawled under the covers, Jensen pulling you into his chest when het got underneath.

“My children think their mom is really okay now. They don’t get sad anymore and they ask questions about her again and I don’t want to cry every time I talk about her because your story reminded me that the wolf dad can be happy again for him too. That’s really fucking important to me right now in life.”

“Okay Papa Wolf,” you said. You grinned and he returned it. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“Hey Jared,” you said as you answered your phone. “What’s up?”

“Jensen at work?”

“Yeah. Late night again,” you said. “He’s answering texts between breaks I think.”

“Cool,” he said.

“You need something?” you asked. 

“No, no. I’m good,” he said. “Thanks. I’ll catch you later.”

“You doing okay?” you asked.

“Yeah. Just want to talk to him for a minute,” he said. He was a little quiet and you sat down on the couch. 

“You want to talk to me?” you asked.

“That’s okay.”

“Jared...Jensen and I are starting to get serious which means we’re gonna be together a lot considering how you two can’t go more than a day without talking. We can be good friends too,” you said. He was quiet and you hoped you hadn’t sounded too corny.

“I uh, I have bad days sometimes. Really normal days can be bad days in my head. It’s kinda how I was built I guess,” he said. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” you said. “Today a bad day?”

“Kinda. Nothing happened. I had a normal day at work and home. I’m just off. He um...Jensen makes me feel better as lame as that sounds. Just talking for a few minutes helps my head get on track that somebody really does care.”

“He’s very good like that,” you said. “I know you mean the world to him. You’re his brother. It’s not lame that he makes you feel better. You make him feel better too. I owe you a lot for taking care of him after the accident.”

“I much prefer when I’m the one freaking out and he takes care of me,” chuckled Jared. “You guys coming home soon?”

“He’s got a few weeks left of filming but I might head down a little earlier, try to get the house sorted out down there with the kids and stuff,” you said. “He’s literally counting down the days.”

“He really likes working on the show though I thought.”

“Oh he does but he’s got a big circle on the calendar for the fifthteenth called Jared day. I think your boy is planning something fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “You mind if I ask a personal question?”

“Shoot, buddy,” you said, stretching in your seat.

“Do you love him?” he asked. 

“Going full throttle out of the gate I see,” you said.

“I know. I know how he talks about you though. There’s no...casual relationship with him.”

“Well I haven’t said it to him yet and he hasn’t said it to me so...maybe another time I’ll be able to answer that question.”

“It’s been almost four months. You get to spend more time together than most couples starting out. I’d think you know by now,” he said.

“I do. But he deserves to hear it before anyone else,” you said. 

“So you love him.”

“Most things I love have a habit of going away,” you said. 

“He won’t,” he said. “You do more than make him happy, Y/N. A lot more.”

“I just wish he didn’t hurt.”

“He hurts a lot less lately. Some of that’s time and some of it’s you. Enjoy being one of his best friends. He doesn’t let that many people in that close.”

“I know. We were supposed to be talking about you I thought.”

“Eh, sometimes I just need the talk. Thanks. I got somebody else I can call now too.”

“It’s never a problem,” you said.

“It’s getting late there. I’ll let you go. Thanks for talking, really. I feel better.”

“Anytime Jared.”

“You too, Y/N.”

Three Weeks Later

“Doug you’re a lifesaver,” you said as finished washing Jensen’s truck in the driveway back home in Austin. He smiled as he wiped off his hands and gave Arrow a wave goodbye. 

“I owed you for that 3am incident,” he said. “You got easy kids. Mine are vultures.”

“Yes, yes they are,” you laughed. He gave you a kiss on the check and smiled as he headed back for his car, another one coming down the open driveway. “Later Doug.”

“Later,” he said. Jensen exited the back of the car along with his backpack and a suitcase, the car pulling out, Doug following after.

“Hey. How was the flight?” you asked.

“Who was that?” he asked, dropping his bags on the pavement.

“Oh that’s just Doug. He’s a nanny. I needed an extra set of hands today watching the kids trying to finish up these chores before you got home and it was perfect timing,” you said. You smirked and walked over to kiss him, Jensen taking a step back. “Something wrong?”

“You kissed him.”

“No. I didn’t. He kissed my cheek,” you said. Jensen narrowed his eyes and you scoffed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “Seriously? He’s my friend.”

“That kisses you.”

“He’s affectionate,” you said. “Also he’s kinda married so you can tone it down with the judgemental looks.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. You’re right. You should be able to kiss whoever you want despite being in a relationship,” he said. He grabbed his bags and brushed past you inside. You grumbled and went after him, finding him upstairs in his room. “What?”

“What stick is up your ass today? I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks. None of us have and you’re in a bad mood.”

“I was perfectly happy until I saw you kissing somebody else.”

“I wasn’t kissing him!”

“It didn’t look like that from my perspective.”

“Jensen.”

“Is this just a little game to you? You get bored of the older guy with kids finally?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Or maybe you just got caught finally.”

“I don’t cheat,” you said, getting in his face. “He kissed my cheek. I’ll call him to come back and explain this situation right now but I apparently you just think I’m a cheater.”

“Well maybe you are. Geez, we’ve been together over four months and no real sex yet? Cause that’s not sending red flags.”

“Because you weren’t fucking ready!” you shouted. “I’m not your wife and I’m never gonna be her. Don’t be mad at me for it.”

“No that’s for sure,” he said.

“The kids are in the front yard. Don’t expect me back today,” you said. You stormed downstairs and into your room, shoving some things in a bag before taking your purse and getting behind the wheel of your car. 

You were seeing red by the time you were out of the suburbs. You slammed your hand against the wheel and shouted.

“You fucking asshole,” you said. You sniffled and drove for a bit before finally pulling off. You drove down a long road, rolling your eyes when of course you passed by his brewery. You’d never been but he’d told you about it more than once. You kept going down the road, eventually finding a park to pull into. You shut off the car and shut your eyes, a knock on the window making you jump. You put down your window when you saw a cop there and did your best to wipe off your face.

“You’re double parked,” he said. 

“What?”

“You’re parked on the line,” he said. 

“Sorry,” you said. 

“Bad day?” he asked.

“Something like that,” you said. You could feel snot threatening to drip down your nose, the officer reaching into a pocket and handing you a tissue. “Thanks.”

“Best not to drive when you’re upset,” he said.

“Yeah. I’m just gonna sit here for a little while,” you said with a nod.

“Probably not a great idea to sit in a car next a playground,” he said. “The mom’s are kinda intense around here.”

“Of course they are,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Why don’t you move your car and you can join me on my patrol,” he said. “It’s only a short walk. Fresh air might do you good.”

“Last time I talked to another man my boyfriend sorta freaked out on me so maybe not a good idea,” you said. You blew your nose and realized what you’d said, the officer staring down. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why don’t we take that walk so I can find out what you did mean.”

Two minutes later you were walking next to the cop. He had a baseball cap on and was in all black. You weren’t sure how he wasn’t boiling considering it was May in Austin.

“This boyfriend got a name?”

“You gonna run his name or something?” you asked.

“Do I need to?” he asked. You shook your head and he smiled. “He the jealous type? He get angry over you talking to other men?”

“It’s complicated.”

“If it doesn’t get uncomplicated I might have to pay this boyfriend a visit you understand.”

“His wife died last June.”

“Okay. I understand part of the complicated thing now.”

“Why’s he gotta be a dick? Called me a cheater,” you said. You crossed your arms and the cop chuckled. “Sorry.”

“As long as you don’t call me a dick we don’t got a problem. Did you cheat on him?”

“No. He...he works away and he just got home today and my guy friend was over helping me with watching my boyfriends kids while I did some chores and my guy friend is like, a really affectionate guy and he kissed my cheek as my boyfriend was coming in and my boyfriend thinks I was kissing him back and been cheating on him for the past three weeks.”

“Why don’t you just call the guy friend over to explain?”

“He got so pissed so fast and accused me of cheating. I’ve been dating him for nearly five months and he brings up the fact we haven’t had sex yet like that even matters when I’ve been holding back for him and he just blows up on me for fucking nothing,” you said.

“You’re both stubborn people, aren’t ya,” he said.

“Maybe,” you grumbled.

“Maybe this guy is scared and looking for a way out of the relationship. Or maybe he thinks you want out. You mentioned kids. That’s not easy.”

“He’s also...older. There’s an age gap. I was the nanny and now I’m the girlfriend nanny. He’s also kinda...famous,” you said.

“So there’s a lot of stress in this relationship then.”

“No,” you said, dropping your arms to your sides. “It’s not like that.”

“Maybe the dumb bastard just got scared of losing someone again,” he said. “Just a theory.”

“I wish he wasn’t scared,” you said. “I don’t know how to make him not afraid.”

“You ever think maybe he said that because you’re getting in there pretty good now and he’s getting real scared that losing you might hurt just as bad as this wife did.”

“He’s an idiot. But he’s my idiot,” you said. 

“Talk to him. Get an apology and try to forgive him.”

“I already forgive him. I know him. He was scared and I got mad instead of realizing after so many weeks apart all he needed was a freaking hug.”

“Then go home and give him a hug,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I must have looked like a hot mess or something.”

“Oh for sure,” he chuckled. You smiled and he laughed. “That looks better.”

“Jensen probably left like five messages on my phone by now,” you said. The cop you were with paused and smiled. “What?”

“A kinda famous Jensen. There’s really only one of those in town,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah. Please don’t share that he’s dating. He really wants to keep things private for a lot of reasons right now,” you said.

“He’s my buddy.”

“Your buddy?”

“We went to school together,” he said. “In tenth grade he went for a slide on second base, ripped his pants right down the middle. His hanes bright blue covered ass still managed to get around to home base.”

“He split his pants in a baseball game?” you smiled.

“I know quite a few of his dirty secrets,” he said. “I don’t really know that whole acting thing but him I know and that must make you Y/N. You ever in trouble kid, ever just got a bad feeling and want a cop to come by, give me a call.”

“Thanks,” you said as you took his card. “You really think he’s a dumb bastard?”

“Oh knowing it’s him, 100%. Give him a break. We like him when he smiles,” he said.

“I’m gonna give him a call,” you said. “We should hang out sometime now that Jensen has a break.”

“Definitely. I gotta finish my patrol,” he said. “Take care Y/N.”

“Bye,” you said as you headed back towards your car. You pulled out your phone and saw seven missed calls and twelve unread texts. You tapped the screen and put the phone up to your ear, only ringing for a second.

“I’m sorry,” said Jensen.

“Me too.”

“I’m the one that...shit I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what happened.”

“You missed me and you were scared and seeing Doug probably hurt like a bitch,” you said.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be the stupid jealous boyfriend.”

“I’m not too far from your brewery if you want to meet there. Get a beer. Blow this over,” you said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Stop apologizing. I want to give you a hug,” you said. 

“I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes?” he asked.

“I’ll see you soon honey.”

“Hi,” said Jensen as you sat at a quiet table in the back, sipping on a beer and eating a piece of pizza. You smiled and stood up, giving him a hug. He tucked his head down and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey we survived our first big fight as a couple,” you said. “That deserves beer and pizza.”

He sat down next to you, forcing a smile on his face. You reached over and cupped his cheek, Jensen turning into it. 

“Please forgive yourself,” you said.

“I don’t really want to,” he said.

“You called me a cheater. I get what I want today and that’s for you to forgive yourself.”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

“Jensen,” you said, stroking his cheek. “I love you.”

He stared at you, a different look in his eyes, the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking through. You inched closer and slid your hand around to the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He felt softer than usual, lips barely moving against yours. 

“I love you,” he said. He wrapped his arms around you and grinned. “I have loved you for a very long time.” You kissed him again, Jensen returning it. 

He left his arm around your back, smirking when you did the same to him.

“Can we forget about earlier?” you asked. He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder.

“One last I’m sorry though,” he said.

“Just don’t call me that again and we’re all good, Jens,” you said. “Now eat some of this pizza so I don’t feel like a glutton.”

“I don’t have to slip into a superhero costume any more so dad bod here I come,” he chuckled.

“Does that mean Solider Boy meets some untimely end?”

“No spoilers,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ll be going back to that show. At least as often. I know I want to direct an episode of walker in the fall. I talked to Jared about it actually so that’ll be fun. I might do a duck and run guest appearance on it. I’ll line up something for next year but I want to be home for awhile, do work around here.” 

“I know quite a few people who would be more than okay with that,” you said. 

“Don’t make any plans for Saturday,” he smirked.

“I thought you were having your Jared day tomorrow.”

“Oh we are. Gen invited you and the kids over. She’d like to get to know you. You’ll love her,” he said.

“So what’s Saturday then?” you asked.

“I’d like to take you and the kids out on the boat. We haven’t been since before the accident. Maybe we can go out for dinner and put up the tent in the backyard, have a sleepover out there with the kids.”

“That sounds fun.”

“And...I’d like to maybe next week take you out for the day, just us, maybe...spend the night somewhere,” he said.

“Like a hotel?” you asked.

“Yeah. Or the kids can have a sleepover at Jared’s. Maybe.” He glanced down and you moved your arm from his back, reaching behind yourself to hold his hand. Green eyes flickered over to yours and you smiled. “I’m-”

“You know if you keep apologizing about earlier I’m not going to have sex with you,” you said. “That’s just facts.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “No more apologies. Aside from...I really am sorry about what I said. I’m the one that’s been holding back and not once have you asked for more.”

“We said we’d take it slow and that’s okay,” you said. He squeezed your hand and nodded. “I don’t like you because you’re attractive or your hair is great or your arms are massive. Having fun with you is fun but that’s not why I’m here.”

“I don’t know if I can give you things you want,” he said.

“Just give me you and that’s good with me,” you said.

“Okay,” he said quietly. You scooted closer to him, Jensen tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Let’s do it now.”

“Uh, what?” you said, taking a sip from your beer.

“The kids aren’t home and I don’t want to wait and-”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you said, knocking back your beer and flipping the cardboard down over your pizza. He stared and you burped, picking up the box. “There’s like six slices left and this is too good to waste, even for sex.”

“You have literally never been more attractive than in this moment,” he said. 

“I could be.”

“I’ll see you at the house in twenty?”

“Yes you will Ackles.”

Forty minutes later you hand was slapping against his headboard, legs squeezed so tight around his waist you were shocked he wasn’t complaining. You moaned loudly as he teased your clit and he delivered one more hard thrust. He grunted as you gripped his shoulder with your other hand.

“Jensen,” you breathed out. “I’m right there. Please, please, please…”

You arched your back when he thrust hard, fingers rubbing just a bit rougher and you came all around him, every muscle tensed and riding out that high, long, deep, absolutely perfect orgasm. Jensen thrust a few more times before he groaned and rested his head on your shoulder, big panting breaths fanning over your skin. 

He was sweaty but pulled out slowly, plopping down on the bed beside you, hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know about you but that was good,” he said. “Damn good.”

You giggled between breaths, nodding your head slightly. You tilted it over towards his, Jensen already staring at you with soft hooded green eyes. 

“Definitely damn good,” you breathed. His lips tugged up into a smile, warm and gentle, his head inching closer to you. You sat up and leaned down to kiss him, Jensen breaking off when he needed air. You trailed a finger down his chest before climbing out of bed and excusing yourself to the bathroom. After you cleaned up you found Jensen chucking the condom in the trash and wiping himself off quickly. 

“Come here you,” he said. He picked you up bridal style and carried you back to the bed, laying you down carefully. “I’m big on after sex cuddling just so you know.”

“I find that to be a very attractive quality,” you said as he lay down. He reached down to the end of the bed and grabbed the bunched up blanket, pulling it over the two of you. His arm slid under your head and he pulled you into his side, encouraging you to use him as a pillow. “You’re warm.”

“So are you,” he said. He kissed your temple and let out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I never thought I’d be able to do that ever again. Let alone not feel bad about doing it,” he said.

“You okay?”

“I’m great,” he said. “Really. I know Dee would have been telling me to not worry so I didn’t. I don’t...I feel like I can talk about her again, you know?”

“You used to call her your wife a lot. Recently you’ve been saying her name more. I think you really are healing, Jensen.”

“I knew the second you left earlier I messed up. I dropped the kids off at Jared’s and then I wound up at the cemetery. I saw these purple flowers there. It’s kinda a different flower but they were her favorite. I’ve only ever told one other person those were her favorites,” he said. You traced your finger over his pec and rested your palm flat on his chest. “Why’d you put flowers there?”

“Why wouldn’t I Jensen?”

“That’s how I knew I can stop being so scared when it comes to you. Purple fucking flowers. You’re just…”

“I love you too,” you said, giving his whole body a squeeze. He returned it, holding you for a long time, neither one of you saying a word. It wasn’t until you noticed the light starting to change in the room that you both moved. 

“Y/N,” said Jensen when you sat upright. You looked over your shoulder, a smile on his face. “Do you want to stay upstairs with me from now on instead of your room? It’s okay if-”

“I’d love to,” you said. “To be honest, I slept up here the other night.”

“You did?” he asked as you nodded.

“I missed you.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I know three little faces that really missed you too,” you said. He smiled and nodded. “Let’s go get the rascals.”

______

A/N: Read Part 9 here!

[ryosmne]

Special piece.

Tattoo artist! Sukuna x f!reader

I just had random thoughts about Sukuna, I mean the usual so here's this hope you enjoy reading. Also this is based on my Tattoo artist! Sukuna series here's the masterlist for that.

Warnings: Language, usage of the word babe that's all.

Consultations were always Sukuna's least favourite part of his job. Not only because some people took long to voice their ideas, but because some are way too indecisive, they either want too many things packed in a tattoo or they hover all over the place trying to chose from roses to skulls. Boring.

The girl that walked in five minutes ago was no different and even though she hadn't even been in his shop for that long she was already getting on his nerves not being able to choose a design for him to draw so he could get this over with, and much to Sukuna's dismay she also had a friend with her that stirred her away every time she came close to making a final decision.

Nanami had told him that she already had a very specific design in mind otherwise Sukuna wouldn't be wasting his time and maybe the fact that he woke up next to y/n again helped him enough not to give the girls his usual pissy attitude.

"How about a micro tattoo? It would look so good on you." The girls friend chirped up making Sukuna's eye twitch.

"I won't do that, pick something else, if you're having trouble I can just give you a flash book with my work and we can tweak something to make it different." Sukuna offered, his tone was very much bored and indifferent, all he wanted was for this to be over with.

"Yeah that would be nice." The girl infront of him said. She was around his age, early to mid twenties and by the looks of it she had lots of work done, her right arm was covered and she wanted to start her left too.

Sukuna momentarily left his booth to fetch the flash book from the reception and he was already planning to charge the girl, whose name he didn't really care to remember, extra just for annoying him.

Walking back to his booth, he found both girls staring at the pictures he had framed on his wall, specifically y/n's original sketch of the shrine she wanted. Sukuna still called her lines crooked all the time, especially when y/n and him eat lunch in his booth. The picture next to it was one of y/n's arm, by now not only the shrine and the fox covered it but lots more of his designs.

Y/n had always told him with a chuckle that having a picture of her arm was creepy, but Sukuna always justified it saying that it inspires him and he has a picture of them together on his desk cause he knows she's a bit on the shier side. Not to mention Gojo would give them hell had he seen that picture of them together hanging on the wall and both y/n and Sukuna didn't want to deal with him.

"That one, I want that one."

The girl confidently spoke and Sukuna's gears had already been grinding for a while.

"Not that one, here pick something else." He simply said, with a slightly more intimidating tone as he handed her the flash book.

"But I want that one, why can't I have it?"

Whining was his the worst thing to Sukuna pair it with an entitled costumer and you can see smoke coming out his ears.

"That was a piece for someone special, you can't have it, either pick something else or leave."

Y/n once again came through Domains front door, Nanami greeted her at the reception and as usual everyone was working since there was lots of buzzing in the shop.

"Hey Kento, I brought takeout for everyone, hope you guys like Thai food." She said with a smile, dropping the bags at the reception counter. "You shouldn't have y/n we could've ordered something in." Nanami was his usual self talking about paying her back and y/n only laughed.

"Oh come on, I wanted to, everyone's still working?"

"Yeah, everyone's tattooing, Sukuna's doing a consultation and it's not going that we-"

Before Nanami could finish his sentence some girls voice was heard saying

"Aren't you a tattoo artist? You're supposed to do what I ask you to."

And there was Sukuna, he had came out front having decided that even the extra charging he planned to do wouldn't help him deal with that headache of a client. His face said it all and y/n could tell he was done with whoever pressed him.

The two girls came to y/n's field of view and she was now wondering what they asked for that Sukuna was so pissed. She just gave him a smile telling him to hang in there in her own way and Sukuna's whole face lit up just by her presence.

"Just why won't you do it? That's the one I wanted." Ah, why must his moment be ruined that rudely.

"I already told you, now, out." His voice was as stern as ever, y/n didn't interfere, that was his business he can run it however he pleases.

The two girls let out an annoyed huff before one of them turned their attention to y/n

"Just go somewhere else, this guy won't do what you'd want anyway."

"Oh I'll do whatever she asks of me, now get the fuck out of here."

Finally some piece, just as the door closed, Nanami begun to laugh under his breath having heard all the commotion from before.

Sukuna took y/n under his arm giving her a quick kiss, his expression that previously looked like he would blow up any second, softened to a half smile his now lazy half lidded eyes that settled on y/n's face.

"How's your day dollface?"

"Pretty good, hopefully about to be better, how's yours?" That smile of hers never failed to make his insides melt away.

"Pretty shitty, untill you showed up."

Who knew that anyone could get Sukuna this warm and cuddly? Well if you asked his co workers they would've told you that there's no way in hell anyone can make Sukuna mellow with their presence, but y/n was probably the exception that justifies the rule.

"Babe, did you also get these red velvet cupcakes from the bakery downtown?"

Sukuna asked, eyes lit like a kid on Christmas.

"Have I ever forgotten? I got you the ones with the pink frosting you were eyeing too."

Y/n said her smile matching Sukuna's and her heart hummering like it always did when he smiled, that was the least she could do for all the perfect dates he's taken her and all the perfect food he's cooked for her not to mention the gorgeous work that he put on her body, his ink by now creeped up her shoulder.

"That's my girl!"

Sukuna said with a proud tone as his arm pulled her closer to his side.

"So, what did she ask for?"

Y/n pressed not having a clue what could've gotten him so riled up, but he just hummed and took another bite of his cupcake, like he always did after a meal.

"Was it watercolour?"

Sukuna shook his head no, making y/n more curious.

"Micro tattoo?"

Again same answer.

"Then how bad of an idea could it be?"

Y/n asked, her voice was playful as she genuinely wondered if someone asked for Jimmy neutron's head merged with a tiger again.

"She asked for your shrine, I'd never give someone your shitty lines." Sukuna answered half laughing, and y/n did too, that running joke always found its way back.

But y/n knew Sukuna considered all of the tattoos he'd given her one of a kind and an extension of herself, he wasn't about to hand what's hers to someone else no matter how much tweaking he did, these pieces were y/n's and y/n's only.

Bonus Domain shenanigans:

"Y/n brought food? I heard something about cupcakes too." Gojo spoke suspiciously looking at his co-workers. They all ate with y/n about an hour ago but he was too busy finishing up a piece of his, full colour new school takes time.

Sukuna warned them that if they told Gojo about the cupcakes, he would either fire them or tattoo them a stupid design he thought of. The second option sounded terrifying, so after exchanging a few looks Geto was the one to speak up.

"No man, she did bring Thai thought, maybe you misheared, here I left yours on Nanami's desk." The calmness in Geto's voice always helped him seem like he could never lie, making him the best to handle a very nosey Gojo.

All was good, Gojo didn't ask again and was stuffing his face with the food y/n brought, Sukuna should thank her for making his mouthy friend zip it for more than a minute.

That was untill..

"Y/N TOLD ME SHE BROUGHT RED VELVET CUPCAKES."

Yuuji bursting through the front door ruined everything.

"You liars"

Gojo said before racing to the fridge they kept sodas with Yuuji in toe.

"You lay a finger on MY cupcakes, I'll gut you both."

[uvobreakmylegs]

The Sixth Floor Game

heavy inspiration from the Elevator Game, as well as the Three Kings Game and a little bit of Silent Hill 3

demon!Shalnark

Warnings: blood, death, kidnapping

The Sixth Floor Game is a ritual that will put you into contact with otherworldly forces and, if done correctly, can take you to a world that exists outside of our own. To play this game, you must follow all of the instructions that have been written below. Take care to remember all of them, as one mistake could result in death.

First you must enter a dark and empty building that has an elevator and only five floors in between the times of 3 and 4 AM. The only items you can bring with you are a fully charged cellphone, an item of sentimental value to you and an offering for the demon.

It is not recommended that you give an offering that bares any resemblance to that of a clown or magician.

When you enter the elevator, you need to ride it up to the 5th floor and leave the offering just outside the elevator doors and then head back down to the 3rd floor. When you reach the 3rd floor, you then need to exit the elevator and use your phone to call the last person in your call history. The game begins when you call that number.

When the line is picked up, you must say “I want to visit the 6th floor”.

Be warned that at this point you may hear strange noises on the other end, as calling the number at this time and place has put you in contact with a demon. It is possible to gauge whether the demon is happy with your offering or not based off the things he may say, if anything at all. Do not hang up on the demon; you will go back up the elevator when he hangs up on you.

There are three possibilities awaiting you when you go back to the 5th floor to see what has happened to your offering.

If the demon doesn't care for your offering but hasn't been upset by it, you will find it in the same place as you left it outside the elevator. You must then collect the offering, go back down to the first floor and leave the building.

If the demon has been offended by your offering, you will find the offering destroyed in some way. Leave the building immediately if you find this, as it means that the demon is angry with you and will try to kill you if you stay too long.

But if the demon likes your offering, there will be no trace of it when you get back up to the 5th floor. If this has happened, you must close the elevator doors and then hit the button for the 5th floor again. This time, instead of the doors opening again, the elevator will begin to move up, taking you to a 6th floor that shouldn't exist.

The amount of time it will take to reach the 6th floor varies from person to person, but it should not take longer than two minutes.

When you reach the 6th floor, you will find yourself in another world. Accounts of what this other world looks like also varies from person to person. Some have said that the floor they entered was run down and wrecked to pieces in some parts. Others have said that the floor didn't look any different from the other floors. Regardless of the state of the floor, the one thing that is consistent is a giant glowing red cross that can be seen if you look outside. You will see nothing else outside aside from the cross.

It is not recommended that you to try to open any windows or try to climb down the building.

You are free to explore this other world until you are ready to leave. It does not matter how long you stay in the other world. When you want to leave you must simply walk back to the elevator and hit the button for the first floor. It is possible that you may come across the offering that you left for the demon earlier while you explore.

Do not take the offering back; it now belongs to the demon.

Reality on the 6th floor can be distorted and you may find yourself becoming confused. If you find yourself entering into such a state, take out the sentimental item you brought and focus on it. It will keep you from losing yourself and allow you to continue as you explore the other world.

Above all else, while exploring the other world, you must never look behind you. Even though the demon may have liked your offering, he also likes trickery and will try to make you turn around to look at him by making noise or by speaking to you. If you look at the demon you will be unable to leave the 6th floor and he will keep you there forever as he has claimed you as his.

It is not recommended that you speak to the demon even if you don't look at him.

Regardless of the outcome of your offering, when you have returned to the 1st floor you must exit the building and you cannot enter the building again for any reason until the time is 6 AM.

If you have upset the demon with your offering, it is not recommended that you try the game again.

There is no reward for playing this game. There is only the experience of leaving this world and venturing to one beyond our own.

This game is dangerous and could result in the death of the player, so please consider the possible outcomes of playing before you decide to do so.

You finished reading aloud the instructions displayed on the sketchy-looking site and looked to your friend Farah, who had her hands clasped together as she looked hopefully at you and the rest of your group who had gathered in her apartment.

“Well?” she asked after a moment, “what do you think?”

“.... Why does a demon have a phone?” you asked.

“Yeah and what phone company does he use?” Cliff asked after you, “or do demons have their own phone companies.”

“You're missing the point!” Farah exclaimed.

“And the point is....?”

“We need to try this!”

There was a collective groan throughout the apartment. The other one in the group, Carmen, rubbed their forehead as they told Farah “you're our friend and we love you, but I don't think any of us want to repeat that time we tried summoning ghosts in a public bathroom.”

“This is nothing like that!” Farah insisted, “it said that we need a building with five floors and an elevator! I promise, there won't be anything gross!”

“Where do we get a building like that?” Carmen asked.

Farah pointed to Cliff.

“You work security overnight at that one office building, right?”

“Do you seriously think I'm going to risk my job for this?” he asked.

“We won't do anything bad! We'll just play a game and leave some stuff on the top floor. If the demon doesn't like it we'll take it with us. It's literally in the rules that we need to clean up after ourselves.”

Farah stopped herself, but you could tell she wanted to continue about getting a chance to visit another world. She loved the supernatural and those kinds of urban legends, but she never wanted to try these things on her own.

Carmen sighed.

“Is anyone else even remotely interested in trying this?” they asked.

Neither you or Cliff said anything at first, and Farah's face began to fall as no one volunteered. Then, when it looked like Carmen was about to speak again, you tentatively raised your hand.

“It might be fun,” you said. At least in terms of memories of 'dumb shit you did when you were younger'.

Farah beamed while Carmen gave you a look that screamed 'I hate you'.

With you willing to give the game a chance, the other two ended up conceding to do the same, and Cliff had been convinced by Farah to let you all in a week from that day when he worked at that particular building. With his shift being 11 PM to 7 the next morning, there would be plenty of time for you to play the game and then let him get back to work. As long as nothing was messed up by the end of it, there would be no harm.

At first you were rather stumped on what to give the demon as an offering. Farah was the same, but she ended up deciding on a horror anthology book from the 1920s. Carmen just got a shirt they had been wanting since they were certain that this ritual wasn't going to work and they wanted to spend the money on something that was useful to them. Cliff went out of his way to get a particularly creepy clown doll. He claimed that he wasn't annoyed by all of this, but you found yourself questioning that statement when he sent a picture of it through the group text. You had no clue where the fuck he had found something that unsettling.

The night you all had settled on was approaching and you still didn't have an offering. It shouldn't have been that hard, and yet you felt like if there was the chance that you were going to run into some otherworldly creature, you didn't want to half-ass it and make it upset. If the supernatural was real it seemed better to try and keep it on your side.

You found yourself browsing a few online forums where people were discussing the game. Unsurprisingly, most said that the ritual didn't work, and the few that claimed that it did had written some uninspired stories about how the demon had told them how they were going to die or when the world was going to end, with at least one mentioning the coming of the Antichrist. When you scrolled down to the end of the page you were pretty bored of all of the comments you read and you were about to exit the page when one particular comment caught your eye:

the demon likes bats

It was buried beneath the comments of others, and nobody had interacted with it. Common sense would tell you that this was just more bullshit, but it just seemed like such a random thing to make up. Nowhere in the instructions had it mentioned bats, and no one else on the forums had said anything about it either. The user who had posted it hadn't interacted with anything else and seemingly just came on to put out that little tidbit. For that reason, you found yourself wondering if their ritual had been successful.

You leaned back in your chair while you considered the information.

Bats, huh?

And then by complete chance the next day, when you were in the mall trying to find something because it the date you'd set for the game was only hours away and you still had nothing, you spotted something through the window of a toy store: a pink stuffed bat plush.

It was rather overpriced, but if that comment was correct, then it should be worth it. If not, at least you got something cute out of it.

Surprisingly it was Carmen and Farah that had been less than impressed by what you had brought.

“I didn't realize you wanted to offend the demon too,” Farah commented bitterly.

“Maybe the demon likes pink,” you responded as you shrugged.

Nothing more was said about it as Cliff opened the front door of the building. In exchange for doing this, he made the rest of you go about the building to turn off all any lights that had been left on which you all grumbled about but agreed was fair enough. By the time you were finished scouring the building, it was 3:13 in the morning.

It had been agreed that Farah would go first, and the rest of you waited in a darker spot of the parking lot while she went in, watching the building to see if you could spot her movements through the windows. You had pulled out your phone, as you were the last person she had called. It would probably be proven pretty fast if this was real or not if she called you and it went through to you, though Carmen had said that they felt it was likely that Farah would probably not call and just say that she had.

You checked to make sure the sentimental object you had brought was in your pocket: a small, stuffed bear keychain that you had gotten as a present from a childhood friend. It was special to you, but you didn't feel like you'd be absolutely devastated if anything happened to it.

Farah came out a few minutes later, carrying her book and looking disappointed.

“It didn't work,” she said as she sighed.

“Did you call?” you asked.

“Yes,” she answered, somewhat indignant. To prove that she had, she pulled out her phone and opened up her call history. It listed her last call as being made to you only a few minutes ago. When you opened up your own call history, it showed that she had called you over an hour ago.

….. Okay. That was weird.

Carmen went next, and it was the same story with them, as they came out a little bit later still holding their shirt. Unlike Farah, they didn't seem too upset.

Cliff went after, holding that creepy clown doll and waving it around a bit as he walked to the elevator.

It was quiet again after that. You, Carmen and Farah waited patiently in the parking lot while the electric lampposts around you hummed. Cliff had been talking earlier so you hadn't noticed it, but it seemed eerily quiet outside. Usually there were bugs or other forms of wildlife at night that would keep things from being silent, but right now there was nothing; only the humming electricity of the lot and the occasional comment from Carmen.

Farah seemed anxious as she looked at the building, her hands playing with the charm on her phone while she waited for any sign of Cliff. The thing with the phone history seemed to convince her this was for real and she seemed nervous about Cliff's offering. Carmen didn't appear to be the same way and seemed more impatient, who'd begun to tap their foot as they waited.

“Did you hear anything when you called?” you asked the both of them. They looked at you, and both shook their heads.

“It was quiet when I called,” Farah said.

“Same here,” said Carmen. Farah smiled at that.

“That means that it's real, right?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Carmen wasn't the best person to be around when they were tired and cranky, and you could see that Farah wasn't trying to take it personally. But looking back to Carmen, you noticed a slight furrow to their brow, and the impatient tapping seemed to have increased. At first glance you would have assumed that they were just really done with this whole thing, but as you kept looking, it seemed less like they were annoyed and more more like they were apprehensive.

“Cliff's taking a while,” they commented.

It was taking Cliff longer than the two of them, you realized, and you were about to try and crack a joke about him making it to the sixth floor when you saw the elevator doors in the lobby slide open, followed by Cliff walking out.

More like storming out, actually.

“What the hell?!” he exclaimed as he shoved open the main doors.

“Don't shout!” Carmen responded, “this is your job that we're not supposed to be doing this at, remember? What're you going to do if someone calls the police on us?”

Cliff ignored them, looking to Farah as he continued “are you serious? You want this stupid thing to be real that badly?!”

He was holding something that he then thrust in front of Farah's face. It was the clown doll that he'd brought.

Or at least, what was left of it.

It looked like it had been stepped on repeatedly, the body broken and the head having been caved in. One of the legs were also missing, you noted.

“You.... You think I did that?” Farah asked.

“Who else!” Cliff yelled.

“I've been here the whole time!” she shrieked back.

“She has,” you added as you felt the need to jump in, “none of us have moved from this spot.”

“Oh fuck off,” he answered, “I needed to return this. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe you shouldn't have gone out of your way to be an asshole,” Farah spat back.

It quickly devolved into an argument between the two, with Carmen pulling you back when you tried to jump in again. It made sense why Cliff was upset, but Farah hadn't done anything.

“.... Should I not go?” you whispered to Carmen after a bit.

“No!” Cliff exclaimed, this time at you, “you should go! Do this stupid thing, and then let me get back to my work!”

“You're not allowed to go back in for the rest of the night,” Farah pointed out.

By that point Cliff was done, and he stormed off to another area in the lot. Carmen motioned for you to go while Farah quietly steamed. It wasn't the first time those two had fought, but the arguments seemed to be getting nastier every time they happened. Best to get this over with so they could be separated and have the time to cool down.

You walked through the darkened lobby of the empty office building, your path illuminated only by the streetlights outside. There was something about darkness and artificial light that somehow made it feel more foreboding, more dangerous. Even though you were an adult there were still thoughts that ran about in your head of creatures that you couldn't see awaiting you in the dark, and those thoughts made you tense a bit. It was such an irrational fear, but one your brain wouldn't let go of. The argument between your friends had only put you more on edge as well.

The elevator doors slid open, the bright blinding lights hurting your eyes for a second before they adjusted to them, and you stepped in the car, pushing the button for the fifth floor.

Fifth floor, leave the offering, then down to third.

There were some bits of Cliff's creepy clown doll that were in front of the elevator when you reached the top floor. It vaguely occurred to you that the instructions said to leave immediately if the offering had been destroyed, but it seemed like Cliff had tried to clean up some. Though that made sense, since he didn't want to leave a mess behind after his shift.

You pushed away some of the leftover bits with your shoe, and carefully placed the bat plush laying on its back in front of the doors.

Down to the third floor, then.

You checked again to make sure that the bear keychain was still in your pocket during the ride down, stepping out when the doors opened after you confirmed that it was.

Now to make the call....

There hadn't been anything saying you needed to wait until the doors closed to begin, but you waited anyway. When the double doors slid shut behind you, you hit the button on your screen to call Farah, the last person on your call history.

It rang twice before the call was picked up. Just as Farah and Carmen had said, it was silent on the other side. You cleared your throat before saying the words that had been instructed.

“I want to visit the sixth floor. Please.”

There was nothing that said you needed to be polite, but you figured it couldn't hurt.

You still didn't hear anything from the other end, and that silence continued for several more seconds. You held the phone close to your ear, straining to hear anything, any sort of indication that someone was on the other line. The “demon” was supposed to hang up first, you remembered, so you were stuck until something happened.

“.... That's actually cute.”

The male voice you heard on the other end was unexpected, but you didn't get a chance to say anything back before the phone call ended.

You stood very still for a few moments.

That.... That hadn't been any of the others who were still outside. Unless they had gone so far as to hide someone out there and have them answer the phone when you called Farah and all of this was just an elaborate prank. But none of them were really the kind of people to do things like that.

Remembering the instructions from the site, you turned back to the elevator and got on when the doors opened, pushing the button for fifth floor once again.

If the demon likes your offering, there will be no trace of it when you get back up to the 5th floor

The ding of the elevator signaled that you were once again at the top floor of the building, and when the doors slid back open and you looked to the spot where you'd left the bat, you found.... Nothing.

That space you had cleared from the broken bits of that doll was empty, the white tiled floor shining in the light that came from the elevator.

….. If this was all just a prank by your friends, you weren't sure if you'd be able to trust them after this.

The doors closed once again, and you took a deep breath before you pushed the fifth floor button.

The elevator began to move up.

There wasn't a sixth floor; you'd double checked that the building only went as high as five.

You told yourself to wait until the doors opened before you jumped to conclusions. You'd need to see this “other world” before you could say for certain that all of this was real.

The website said that it could take up to two minutes, but mere seconds later did the doors slide back open.

Everything looked normal. Just another floor of an office building.

Or it would have looked normal, had it not been for the fact that everything was bathed in a red glow that came from the outside.

Clutching your phone in one hand and the keychain in the other, you took a small, tentative step out of the car, looking to either side of you.

The hallways were empty. Nothing jumped out at you.

Slowly, you walked over to a window.

In the distance stood a glowing red cross.

…. This was real.

This was actually real.

It was almost too much to process for your shock-addled brain, and you had to wonder if anyone else who had been successful had the same reaction as you, to just stare dumbly at the scene before you.

It then occurred to you to get proof for when you went back.

You pulled up the camera on your phone. Or you tried to at least. Of all the times for your phone to act up, it needed to be when you needed to get a picture so people would believe you. The app kept taking forever to pull up before it would close and you repeatedly tapped on the screen as you tried to make it work. Somehow you managed to snap a few pictures of the cross before the camera closed again and you weren't able to open it back up. The lighting and your uncooperative phone made the pictures appear quite blurry, but one would be able to tell what they were looking at. No doubt some people would claim that it was fake, but it was enough to satisfy you.

You checked the time, finding it to be 3:30, if the phone was to be trusted. You wished you had checked before you came up here, but it was a bit too late for that now.

You stepped away from the window and went down one of the halls, looking all around before you remembered that the site said that you shouldn't look behind you. Or was that only when you heard the demon? Regardless, you kept glances behind yourself to a minimum as you made your way through the floor.

Aside from the red light that covered everything, it looked like a normal office floor, filled with different offices and supply closets and nothing that was particularly interesting to you. The one strange thing was that the red cross outside seemed to move along with you, as when you would move to a different room you would still be able to see it clearly outside. You went back to the windows a few times and tried to see if there was anything else outside, but all you found was an endless darkness with no signs of any kind of life or structure. Unsurprisingly there was also no sign of your friends down below, though it would have been hard to see where they were standing outside anyway given the angle.

The red light made you slightly sick after a while, and you tried opening up the flashlight option on your phone. But it refused to turn on. In fact, nothing on your phone was working now, and when you looked at the clock, the time was still 3:30.

Either time was being distorted or your phone wasn't able to function properly. Given how your phone was acting earlier the latter would seem to be the most likely option, but you also weren't sure what the rules of this place were. There was nothing that said that this world was bound to time in the way yours was.

The website had said that you could stay up here for as long as you wanted, right?

You began to see things out of the corner of your eye, little bits of movement in the darkness that dared you to look at them. You did a few times, mentally slapping yourself as you remembered what the instructions had said as you were now desperately trying to remember everything that had been written so you knew what you could and couldn't do. It was amazing and terrifying at the same time as you recalled what the site had said about possibly dying to this game, and at one point you felt so overwhelmed that you thought you were going to throw up. You managed to keep it down, but after that you decided that it was time to leave.

When you started to head back to the elevator was when you felt a headache coming on. It was mild at first, but when you went further along your route to the exit it started to hurt more, turning into a stabbing pain that jammed into your skull.

Had the website mentioned this? You couldn't be sure. Where were you even going again?

You stopped at an open door, leaning against the open door frame to rest. There was movement from inside the room, and without thinking you looked over to it.

The bat you had left on the fifth floor sat in the room in front of a whiteboard. A whiteboard that had been absolutely covered in drawn on hearts and your name repeated over and over.

…. The website hadn't mentioned that.

“Do you think it's a good place for him?”

The voice you heard came from a few feet behind you. The same voice you had heard over the phone.

You needed to get out. Now.

You brushed your hand against your pocket as you tried to stand up straight again, still fighting the pain of the headache when you remembered the little bear keychain.

It will keep you from losing yourself

With that thought in mind you pulled it out and focused on it, and the pain seemed to lessen by a good amount.

“You've got a thing for cute stuff, don't you?”

The voice came from directly behind you this time, like whoever was speaking was staring down over your shoulder as they were practically on top of you.

Don't look don't look don't look

You pushed off of the door frame, the keychain still in hand as you power-walked back down the hall. The headache was still there a little bit but it was nowhere near as debilitating as it had been before.

The voice whined from behind you.

“You're leaving already? You just got here.”

Don't speak. Don't look.

It was following you. You could hear the footsteps that trailed after yours, keeping up with your pace and almost being purposefully loud. Sudden noises accompanied the footsteps, making you jump and urging you to turn around. It was a natural thing to react to sudden sounds like that and you needed to catch yourself a few times from looking behind.

It was trying to keep you here and you didn't want to stay to find out why that was.

You turned several corners and walked down many halls, and the elevator wasn't anywhere in sight. That wasn't right. You had made a mental note of where the location of the elevator approximately was. As much as the headache was still messing with you, you should still be able to make it back. You knew where it was, goddammit.

…. Was it just you, or were these hallways getting longer?

A chuckle came from behind you.

“You didn't think I'd let you go that easy, did you?”

You started to run.

You weren't sure how long you continued like that – time didn't seem to be a thing up here. Around you the halls extended, stretching out and prolonging your time in this hell as you turned corner after corner and you still couldn't find the fucking elevator. The temptation was there to look behind and see how long the halls had become, but the laughter that followed you kept your eyes straight ahead.

Turning another corner, the doors to the elevator came in sight, and you let out a gasp of relief as you ran faster. Just a little bit more and then you'd be free.

…. The elevator seemed to be was moving away from you, messing with you just as the halls had done before.

You could hear him breathing directly in your ear as you ran. Still trying to freak you out, still trying to make you turn around. He hadn't touched you at all, though, and you wondered if there were rules for him that prevented him from doing so.

The attempts to get you to look back at him seemed to be getting desperate. If this thing was getting to a point where even he was desperate, you didn't want to know what the hell he'd do to you if you made the mistake of turning around.

Despite it all the elevator was getting closer. Escape was literally in your grasp-

And then something in the floor shifted that caused your knee to buckle and you were sent flying face down on the flat white tile.

The phone and keychain went flying out of your hands and there was blood in your mouth as you bit your lip. Your head ached again, though you weren't sure if it was because of him or because you'd just landed on the solid floor.

You lay there for a few moments, catching your breath as you tried to compose yourself.

You then became aware of the presence that was standing over you. He was quiet now, but you could feel his eyes burning holes into your back, as if trying to will you to look at him.

Pushing yourself up on shaky arms, you began to crawl forward, your hands searching for the phone and keychain that had gone flying and had vanished into the darkness, the light from outside now much duller than it had been when you'd first arrived.

Don't look don't look don't look

He can't touch you

He can't force you to look back at him

Just keep facing forward and-

A horrifically loud shrieking noise sounded through the hall. It was the loudest thing you had ever heard in your life, the noise so great that you felt the floor vibrating, and your hands immediately went to cover your ears to protect your hearing as best you could.

Don't you dare fucking look back

With your hands still over your ears, you crawled forward on your knees. It was slow and it had gotten so dark that you couldn't see the elevator anymore, but it was still progress. When your knee brushed against your phone you ignored it. Who gave a fuck about proof anymore? You just wanted to get out.

But you were still trying to keep a lookout for the keychain. It had helped before; if you could find it, it would probably make getting out easier.

You put out one hand on the floor as you blindly searched for your sentimental item, your eyes scrunching up in pain as the horrible sound continued.

For a split second your fingers brushed up against something soft.

You grabbed it.

Immediately after the shrieking noise stopped.

For just a moment, there was relief, even though you still had that noise ringing in your ears. But it took only another moment for you to realize that something was wrong.

You hadn't grabbed that bear keychain. It was larger and heavier.

Opening your eyes, you found that you were holding that fucking bat plush.

“Ah. You messed up.”

A hand reached from behind you and grabbed the plush out of your grip. A different hand was placed on your shoulder and you were spun around on the floor.

A fair-skinned man with what looked to be blonde hair stared down at you, one hand still on your shoulder as he waved the bat in front of you.

“You're not supposed to take this back, remember?” he asked as he smiled at you.

“No.... I didn't...” you trailed off.

“But you did, though! You grabbed and picked it up,” he said.

That wasn't possible. You had left that thing behind in that room that felt so far away now. But as you glanced to the side you saw that, to your horror, you were sitting next to that room again, the hearts still visible on the whiteboard. You were barely able to note that it had gotten brighter and that somehow the red lighting seemed less harsh before he was talking to you again.

“So you lost and now you don't get to go back,” he told you.

“No.... You cheated.”

It felt so juvenile to say that out loud, but it was all that could come out of you in your current state.

Strangely though, he didn't deny it.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, “I've never gotten a visitor as charming as yourself. When I heard you on the phone and saw what you left me, I just needed to keep you.”

He looked at the bat plush again and smiled at it as he sat down in front of you.

“Did you just pick this at random, or was it something else?”

You struggled to comprehend the question, and it took you a bit before you were able to blurt out “someone else said you liked bats.”

“So you mean you went to the trouble of looking up what things I liked? That's adorable. I love it!” he exclaimed.

You tried to subtly scoot away from him as he sat in front of you but you were noticed instantly.

“Where do you think you're going?” he asked. The look he gave you was so innocent.

“I-I need to go home. I want to go home,” you insisted.

“That's not an option, remember?” he asked, waving the bat around again.

You shook your head.

“You cheated. I should be allowed to leave because you did that.”

He laughed.

“There's no rule against cheating. As long as I didn't touch you it was fine. Don't be a sore loser.”

“Fuck you.”

You spat out those words in a bout of frustration, trying your best to sound strong, but it probably just made you seem more pathetic.

He only hummed at that, just staring at you for a moment.

It had been getting steadily brighter, the red going away with every passing second and you were able to make out different colors. The purple and teal on his clothes, the shade of blonde his hair was and the blue of his eyes were visible to you for a few moments.

He set the bat plush to the side, and the world began to darken again as red and black took over.

“That's okay,” he said, more to himself than to you, “you're scared and that kind of reaction is normal, so I'm not too mad.”

It was getting harder to see him, but you could see movement about him, things about his body changing. Horns that slowly curled out from his forehead. The tips of his fingers that darkened around long claws that took the place of his fingernails. Large, bat-like wings that unfolded from behind him and spread themselves.

You caught a glimpse of his teeth in the low light, and they looked sharper than they had before.

Panic shot through you as you began to scramble away from him, but your escape attempt was short-lived as something wrapped itself around your legs and pulled you back towards him.

A tail? Oh God that was a tail.

He was on top of you, and he caged you in his arms as he leaned down to whisper in your ear “don't worry, I'll go easy on you this time.”

You tried to push him away, but he ignored it.

“Oh! Before I forget, I should introduce myself shouldn't I? I'm Shalnark. Nice to meet you.”

With that, his lips claimed yours in a searing kiss.

Your friends had been waiting a while.

Farah and Carmen stayed where they had been directly next to the building while Cliff hadn't moved from where he had stormed off to. Farah had been getting upset as she had become convinced that you were being an ass to her as well with how long you were taking. It was all Carmen could do to try and keep her calm.

Because of his distance away and how distracted they were, neither of them noticed the state Cliff was in.

They only noticed when he began to violently cough.

With Farah still slightly bitter from their earlier argument, Carmen was the one to check on him, asking if he was alright as they walked up to him.

Cliff gave no answer as he had begun to cough up blood.

Carmen's hands fumbled when they pulled out their phone to call emergency services, and they yelled at Farah to go inside and get you. The sight of the blood Cliff was coughing up had Farah sprinting towards the building, throwing the front doors open as she made a beeline for the elevator.

Carmen didn't notice it at first when Farah fell to the floor. Only when the ambulance had been confirmed and they looked back to the building to see if the two of you were coming out did they see her body lying limply on the floor.

Ambulances and cop cars arrived eventually, and both Cliff and Farah were declared dead at the scene. The autopsy reports later would declare that they had been poisoned. A thorough search of the building would find no source of where the poison had come from.

Nor did they find anything from you.

Carmen had told them that you were in there, but when they searched they found no trace of you. No personal belongings and nothing to even indicate that you had entered the building. When the search for you grew beyond the confines of the office building, there was still no trace of you. You simply vanished into thin air.

The case would puzzle investigators before they would ultimately put it aside for other cases that needed their attention. It would only gain some traction online when the files were released to the public and certain parties saw that you and your friends had been playing the Sixth Floor Game. For some people it added weight to their beliefs that the game was real and needed to be avoided. For others it was just a coincidence.

Regardless of what they thought, you remained a missing person that would never be seen again, forever immortalized by your unexplained disappearance and an urban legend.

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

__________________________

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him. 

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this. 

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red. 

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you. 

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.” 

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it. 

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?” 

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.” 

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most  practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy. 

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip. 

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy.  As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.” 

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be. 

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke. 

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind. 

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find. 

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.  

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse. 

-----------

In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable. 

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look. 

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began. 

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan. 

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

You lowered your head. 

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot. 

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled. 

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?” 

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod. 

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.  

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned 

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again. 

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly. 

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust. 

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that? 

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person? 

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once. 

No one believed you.

---------

With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew. 

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under. 

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed.  How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you. 

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions. 

No wonder he was so angry. 

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call. 

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.” 

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing. 

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.” 

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.” 

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it. 

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again. 

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy.  He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right? 

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger. 

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos. 

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh. 

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up. 

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?” 

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot. 

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.” 

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.” 

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm. 

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

[thebiggestfan1]

Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 1)

part two here

part three here

word count: 1860 words

TW: language, angst (?)

let me know if you want part two, I’m somehow still not sure

...

It was so hot that day. The movers were already gone, the place feeling empty without all the furniture. In a few hours, you'd be long gone, flying far away from Chesterfield.

Some small part of you felt sorry for selling your parents' house - the house you spent your whole childhood living in. But they moved out a few years ago and told you many times they didn't mind at all selling it.

Wiping the sweat off of your eyebrows you made your way through the blooming garden, trying to memorize every little detail. You remembered climbing this tree, you remembered the hole in the fence you made so the neighbour's dog could come play with you, you remembered the time capsule you and Matt buried here when you were fifteen.

Until now, you completely forgot about that. Even though you two didn't talk after he got drafted, it'd be a good idea to meet again since you might never see him again. You might be moving to Calgary but that city was so big it'd be a miracle to meet Matthew somewhere.

So you scrolled through your phone, praying he didn't change his number after all those years as you dialed it.

The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.

"Yes?"

Matthew's voice was so different since the last time you talked.

"Hey Matt, this is Y/N, I'm moving out today and I thought we could dig up the time capsule we buried at my place as kids before I leave. Are you in town?" It was off-season so you might get lucky.

"You are moving out already? But yeah, I can meet you in an hour if you have the time."

"Yes, I'll still be here, don't worry."

"Okay..." There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of you knew how to break it. Was it a bad idea? Of course you wouldn't be as good friends as you once were. But you didn't know it would be this... weird. He didn't say goodbye back when he left to Calgary and didn't answer to any of your calls or messages. What were you thinking? That he wanted to see you?

"So, where are you moving to?" Matt finally continued, making the conversation more bareable.

"Calgary, they offered me an amazing job there."

"Really? I've been there for a few years."

"I heard." Not from you, was what you didn't say. It seemed like he'd heard it nonetheless.

Silence. You hated how distant you've grown - once, a long time ago, you were best friends. You went together to kindergarden and since then you've been the best of best friends. But even after all you went through, you didn't know what to say.

"Nevermind, I have to get going. I'll be at your place at three, okay?"

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

As you hung up, sadness enveloped you. Maybe you shouldn't have called. Maybe it'd be better to never meet Matt again, to remember only the good old times.

But he might be already on his way and you wanted to say a proper goodbye before going far, far away.

You loved him once, you recalled. It broke your heart when he left without looking back.

It irritated you that you couldn't do the same as easily.

...

"Y/N?" a now familiar voice called, the sound of closing car doors echoing through the silent street.

Matt looked same as he did four years ago and still totally different. It was like staring at a stranger you could swear you've already seen before. The curly, those pretty grey-blue eyes and the crooked smile you remembered and thought about too often. He got taller and more mascular over the time he played hockey professionally.

"Hey," you said nervously, tucking your slightly trembling hands into the pockets of your shorts.

Again, that uncomfortable silence took place.

"How long is it?" Since you've last seen each other. Since he'd ignored your calls and messages. Since he'd left you crying as he left this town - as he left you.

"Five years," you said.

Regret flashed in those pretty eyes as he took you in. Did you look to him the same as you did the last time he saw you?

"I'm sorry I didn't call." That was it? After five fucking years of silence, this was his apology for everything. This was a mistake. You didn't think it through when you called him today. Just now you started remembering all the things he's done to you.

"That doesn't make it hurt less, does it?" You whipped around, going to the line of fruit trees where you left the two shovels you borrowed from the neighbour.

Matt's hand slightly gripped your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

"I know that I made a bunch of wrong decisions before I left."

"I've been trying for 6 months to reach you before giving up completely. And you? You've been living the best version of your life anyone could ever imagine."

"That's not true and you know it." Matthew said and you wanted to leave right then, forget this stupid meeting.

"I do not." you hissed, trying to calm down your rising temper.

Matt sighed, not wanting to argue over this. So he made his way to the tree line, picked one shovel from the ground and started digging where he remembered the time capsule was.

You didn't help him dig it up. You were too lost in memories, clinging to the past as you thought of younger version of Matt.

The clang of metal on metal attracted your attention back to him. He grunted as he pulled up the metal box and laid it on the grass.

You ducked low next to him, dusting off the dirt of the box. It was an old, weirdly dented thing.  Your eyes laid on the lock and you nearly sighed in annoyance just when Matt grabbed at his necklace, the key dangling from it. When you two buried the capsule, each of you got a key made for it. You had yours somewhere in the boxes that had already been shipped to your new apartment and Matt's... he didn't forget. He kept it through the years, guarding it and not losing it as you expected.

You didn't say anything, just patiently waited for him to open the box.

There was a letter inside, along with a bunch of things you thought of as long forgotten. Your bracelets of friendship, the colors faded already; a puck with which you and Matthew played your first hockey game together when you were six; so many polaroid photos with your faces on them; USB with a playlist you two always danced to.

Your eyes watered - how were you supposed to say goodbye to all of this?

Silently, you looked over all of the photos - you and Matt in the rink with small hockey sticks and skates, you and Matt sticking out your tongues colored blue with slushies, you and Matt, you and Matt, you and Matt...

Then Matthew's hand found yours, your fingers automatically intertwining with his. You started crying, first silently but then the sobs shook with your whole body.

"Come here," he murmured, hugging you. His body was so soft and warm, as if begging you to lean into his touch.

"How- how could you leave this all behind?" you mumbled between the sobs.

"It's not leaving if you don't say goodbye." Matt said, his fingers playing with yours.

"Then you are a fucking coward, Matthew."

Silence. He didn't argue with you on that, so you must have been right.

You stopped crying after a while, checking your watch while wiping your nose.

Shit. It was so late already - you had to call an uber to get you to the airport in the next hour or you'd be super late.

"I'll have to go," you said quietly, but Matt interrupted you.

"You are right," he tucked on the edge of his shirt, clearly nervous. He was nervous. "I was a coward. I thought that if I didn't say goodbye to you as I left, it'd hurt less. I was wrong and I was a fucking coward for not picking up your calls or replying to your messages because it would make it so real - that I was leaving and probably never coming back. But I want to make it all right again, I want to be a part of your life - if you will let me."

You thought about his offer and still, you couldn't answer. You weren't sure about letting him into your heart just for him to storm out again without a goodbye, leaving you behind, broken.

"Can I at least take you to the airport?" To that, you nodded, picking up the time capsule, putting all the items back in. Then you gave back the lent shovels to your neighbour and with a last glance at your house, you got into Matt's car.

...

On the way to the airport Matt played the playlist from the USB that was in the time capsule and the nostalgy hit you hard.

You remembered the lyrics, the melody; you remembered everything.

The drive was too short and you started panicking as the engine stopped.

Matthew helped you with your suitcase and went inside with you. The two of you stopped at the first gate.

"Here," he said, giving you a piece of paper. "It's my adress. Hopefully, you won't live so far away, so we could meet there if you wanted to."

You tucked it in your pocket without a word.

"Also, take this. I wrote it in ninth grade so don't think much of it. But I want you to read it, Y/N."

It was the letter from the time capsule, with your name on the blank envelope.

"I will." you promised.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward this time.

"I'll let you know my decision about what you said earlier. I just... I need some time."

Matt noded, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

"So, until we meet again - goodbye, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Matt."

...

The plane took off and you finally had the time to read the letter he gave you.

You immediately recognised his scrambled handwriting and you smiled at how messy it was before you started reading.

Dear Y/N,

I'm writing this in case I leave. Dad has been telling me for some time already that if I'll get drafted, I'll have to leave. He also said that if I'll be smart, I will never look back at my past.

I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future.

He said I'll meet a lot of girls but I know that none of them is going to be like you.

So, I promise you, I will never say goodbye to you.

I love you,

Matt

With trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone, the tears already staining the screen.

That's why he never said goodbye. Because of this stupid letter and his stupid promise.

The phone rang once before he picked it up.

"Y/N? What is it?"

A ragged breath escaped you and you laughed and cried at the same time.

"I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future."

"Oh, that was cheesy, wasn't it-"

"No, you dumbass. That's my answer."

[fearfully-fiction]

Spike Island pt.5-Dakota Laden x Reader

word count:2444

warnings: anxiety and nervousness, very short chapter. so sorry guys I have been incredibly busy lately and haven't been able to write very much!

summary: Based on season 3, episode 16 of DF. so all credit to the crew, the show, and the channel. sleeping arrangements are made, and Dakota's plan is unveiled.

(gif not mine!)

You shivered as you walked back to the gear room, and Dakota could feel you shake while you held his hand. “You’re shaking,” You heard him say and you looked over at him, “I’m just cold that’s all,” you told him, though it wasn’t the full truth it would do. Your body was tired from being pushed so much and you were beginning to struggle against the cold. 

“I didn’t think it would rain, you know,” you said and let out a shaky sigh. “Well, hopefully, it’ll stop soon and we can warm you up a bit, how are you feeling?” He asked. “I’ve been better,” you told him. “But, I’m ok right now,” you followed up. “Honestly,” he tried to coax it out of you knowing that you wouldn’t tell the truth in hopes of not letting him worry. “I’m being honest, I promise,” you tried. “I know you too well,” he said and looked at you with those thoughtful eyes you could never lie to. 

“Just, don’t want to move anymore, my body is working against me right now,” you admitted to him. He wouldn’t have been able to hear you if you weren’t so close to him. 

“It’ll be over soon, and then you’ll get to rest for as long as you’d like. I promise I’ll take care of you,” He promised you and leaned over to kiss your head. 

You all entered the gear room and were preparing for the last few hours of the overnight. 

“We believe that when you’re alone, you’re much more scared which in turn brings out the paranormal activity,” Dakota explained as usual. “We’ve all agreed on the four scariest locations for us to go sleep,” he said. 

Your brows furrowed, “Wait, why only four?” you asked. You knew that they would keep an eye on you tonight but you didn’t expect them to bend the rules for a second time just for you. Sure, you were scared but you didn’t want things to change just for your sake. 

“Cause, we aren’t letting you be alone, not this time,” Chelsea explained. “I’m not bending the rules again,” you told them and they sighed. “We just want you safe,” Dakota tried to tell you. “I know, but you guys won’t always be with me and I’m gonna have to be alone at some point no matter how much I don’t want to be,” you told them. “Even if we let you, there are really only four places for you to be and there are five of us, so it’s inevitable right now,” Tanner said. You sighed heavily and shook your head. “It’s ok to not be alone,” Chelsea said and placed her hand on your shoulder. “I just want to end this right,” You told them. “You’re here aren’t you? After everything that happened you’re here, I think that’s right enough,” Dakota told you. You looked at him with an unsure gaze and he just nodded at you. “It’s ok,” he assured you. 

“Ok, but this is the last time,” you said with a heavy sigh. You were embarrassed about it, but you knew it was four against one and you would just have to deal with it. “When the locations are drawn you can choose who you go with ok,” Dakota said giving you the freedom to choose who you spent the night with. 

“Yeah, ok,” you said and wrapped your free arm around yourself in order to stave off the cold negativity the prison seemed to send your way. 

“Ok, so as I was saying: we’ve all agreed on the four scariest locations for us to go sleep. First, we have the A-B Block. Then we have the A Block, whoever gets this, they will be the first to see it, and A Block is in such bad condition that whoever gets that one, they have to sleep in a hard hat. Then we have the Punishment Block. For our final sleeping arrangement, we have the tunnels,” Dakota announced and you cringed, not wanting to choose any of them, especially not the tunnels. You knew for a fact that you weren’t going to choose the A Block, mainly because t was falling apart but also because there was only one hard hat. You were just nervous overall. You wanted nothing more than to feel safe and currently, as you had to decide where to go you didn’t. 

“So, Tanner is going to write those out on a piece of paper, then we’re gonna draw and that’s where you go sleep for the night,” Dakota finished explaining. Tanner quickly scrawled the locations onto pieces of paper while you stood off to the side trying to calm yourself down. 

Dakota walked over to you and placed his arm around you. “You do know that you can stay with me right? No one will care, they probably expect it,” he said and you rested your head on his shoulder. “I know,” you breathed out shakily. You closed your eyes as you reveled in the warmth he provided. “I just want to be brave,” you told him sadly. “You are brave, just being here is you being brave. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. All of us including the fans know how much of a fighter you are, and even the bravest people have to take a step back sometimes, and that’s ok. Don’t feel embarrassed for not sleeping alone this time. No one will think any less of you. You’ll be ok, everything will work out,” he said and held you tighter. You nodded your head, “Thank you, Dakota,” you said and leaned up to kiss his jaw. “You never have to thank me,” he said and let his arm slide down to rest around your waist instead of your shoulders. 

Tanner finished writing and stuck the papers in the bag for them to choose from. 

“Alright, who wants to draw first?” Dakota asked. Everyone just silently looked at him before Alex lifted his arm to point at him. “Me?” Dakota asked with raised brows. 

He took a breath and rubbed his hands together nervously obviously hoping for the best. You were of course worried for him, as you were for everyone. Choosing sleeping locations always made you nervous despite yourself not showing that fear. You never wanted to show such fear over what seemed to be a tame task to some people. You were terrified most of the time and did well at hiding it at most locations, you tended to be one of the people who stuck out the harsh ideas with almost no complaints. 

Right now it was clear that you could see the fear in your eyes. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hide it this time and you just had to accept that. 

Dakota stuck his hand in the bag and fished out a paper. “I hope you get the tunnels,” you heard Alex laugh. That’s the spot you were most worried about and you wouldn’t want any of them to get it if you had the choice. Your boyfriend unfurled his paper and announced his location, “A-B Block,” he told everyone. You felt your breath hitch for a second knowing he got the one you would most likely have chosen if you had the choice. Not liking the sound of the Punishment Block despite having been in the A-B Block before and not having a great experience there. . “I’ve never been there, I don’t know what to expect,” he said and you shook your head, remembering how it made you feel but betting it was better than the Punishment Block. 

“I think Alex should draw next,” Dakota said and you rolled your eyes. Chelsea began chanting for him to get the tunnels and you shook your head. You were scared for any of them to get the tunnels, Al and Chelsea always seemed to have the worst luck and it never sat right with you. You just wanted everyone to be safe, and you knew on these overnights that you weren’t always going to be, especially being alone. 

Alex dug around in the bag before pulling out a piece of crumpled paper. Your hands shook and ached as you held your camera tighter in your hands. 

“Ah, no dude!” Alex shouted in disappointment. He showed his paper and your heart stopped for a second. He got the tunnels, and your heart ached for him knowing that he would be alone in the dark winding corridors that seemed to go on for miles. You didn’t want any of them to go there, and of course, it just so happened to be Alex who had to go. You heard the group laugh, and you shut your eyes tight. You weren’t gonna laugh or joke you were too on edge, your stomach began to turn at the thought of him sleeping alone down there. You desperately didn’t want him to go. 

“How do you always get those?” Dakota asked in amusement. “I don’t know,’ he said in frustration. “You wanna trade?” Alex raised his voice. “No!” Dakota exclaims. You felt your nerves begin to kick in even more seeing as someone else had to draw now. “Alright, Tanner you draw next,” Alex spoke up again. You shifted your weight uncomfortably. “Okay,” Dakota agreed. “Alright,” Tanner said and got ready to draw. You hear Chelsea giggle and you cringed just wanting it to be over now. He grasped his paper and unfolded it, “A Block, great!” he shouted and you sighed once again feeling your stomach churn. He had to sleep in a building that was absolutely falling to pieces. This wasn't safe at all and you were not happy. 

“A Block, you get to wear a hat!” Dakota exclaimed. “I get to wear my hat!” Tanner exclaimed in mock enthusiasm. “Yeah!” Alex shouted. “Fantastic!” Tanner raised his voice sarcastically. 

You reached out to grab whoever’s hand was closest and it just so happened to be Alex’s. He looked down at you in confusion as he took your hand softly. He could practically feel the anxiety and fear radiating from you. You wanted nothing more than to say something to make it all stop but you knew you had to let it happen. It was just how these trips always went and you had to become okay with that again. 

“We haven’t been there before and now I might get hit in the head with rocks,” Tanner broke you out of your little anxiety-induced daze. Alex kept glancing down at you in worry, “You ok (y/n)?” He asked softly. You looked up at him after hearing his voice. “Yeah, just a bit nervous, sorry,” you said to him and almost let go of his hand in fear of bothering him but he didn’t let go of yours. “Everything will turn out ok, only a few more hours,” he said and nudged you gently. You gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded. “Ok,” you said and leaned against his arm. 

“Chelsea’s got the punishment block,” Dakota announced and you let out a shaky sigh. She grabbed the last piece of paper from the bag and shook her head. ‘I did not expect to return here. “This is going to suck,” she said, “Yeah,” her brother agreed with her. You rolled your eyes at him. “(y/n), where are you staying?” your boyfriend asked. “I’ll stay with you,” you said quietly once again nervous about the judgment you may receive for choosing to stay with him. “Alright, that’s settled then, you’ll be with me,” he smiled at you, and you smiled shyly back. “Also, you guys,” He spoke up again and your heart dropped. You knew it wasn’t going to be anything good. “What do you mean ‘Also, you guys’ ?” Chelsea questioned in frustration already knowing it was going to suck. “Also?” Alex asked in disbelief. “You can’t do ‘also, you guys’,” Tanner said. “What is it this time?” you asked in annoyance trying to keep your voice from shaking too much. 

He looked over at you with an apologetic gleam in his eyes. You just knew it was going to be bad, and that was probably one of the reasons he was so dead set on you not being alone. “Instead of sleeping tonight with flashlights…” Dakota began, “No!” Chelsea quickly butt in. “We are going to be sleeping with candles,” he finished. You stared at him with wide eyes, before letting go of Alex and turning around. You shut your eyes tightly and took a deep breath. 

You were scared to turn around because you knew you would have to face anything else he had to say. 

“What?! That’s not going to be enough light,” Tanner expressed loudly. “Exactly,” Dakota confirmed. “This is about amplifying the fear. Intensifying the fear, by replacing our flashlights where you can clearly see down a hallway with a candle where you can hardly see five feet in front of you.” you felt yourself begin to tremble again as you turned back around once again reaching for Alex’s hand. He graciously held your hand as tightly as he could without disturbing your injuries. He felt you shaking and decided to just put his arm around your shoulders instead. 

You let yourself lean gratefully against your friend as your boyfriend continued on with his terrible plan. “But you only get one light. Once you get to your sleeping arrangement we will light the candle and you better not let it go out because I’m the only one with a lighter,” He ended his explanation. By this time you were shivering continuously and your heart was in your stomach. You felt sick, “Great,” Tanner stated sarcastically. “Let’s do it, let’s get out of here,” Dakota said. “Hey you guys, if I don’t show up in the morning, that’s probably because the building fell on me,” Tanner tried to joke but it just made your fear worse because though it seemed crazy things like that where he was going could be a real possibility. “But, no, dude you have a hard hat,” Dakota reminded him jokingly. “Oh, I have a hard hat. I should be perfectly fine over cave-ins,” Tanner once again commented sarcastically. 

You gathered your things and sighed heavily as you thought of the night ahead of you. You did not want to do this, especially with what Dakota was having you do. Despite being with him you knew you were going to have a hard time. Your fear of something lurking in the dark was going to amplify tonight and you weren’t ready to face it. 

---

Taglist:

@jaziona92

@beautybyfire

@thefandomthings

@kippykasey

@kristin813

@katelynanna

@nyx2021

[sweetest-honeybee]

Down to Dust

Chapter 1

Fic Summary: Grian will have to keep the dragon egg secure for the Watchers. But, they’re not the only ones who want it. On a completely unrelated note, Mumbo will have to deal with a version of himself thats only amplified by his No Killing mindset.

Chapter Summary: Grian’s getting tired of Scar’s shit and Mumbo thinks he’s a responsible adult.

Word Count: 1392

TW: None

Note: TEGG doesn’t exist in this fic

Enjoy!

———————

This was the third time this week that Scar managed to find Grian’s hiding spot for the dragon egg. Grian was sure that he couldn’t have possibly found it behind one of the sheep in his farm and yet, here the two builders were, one with a proud smirk on his face and the other glaring with a somewhat playful disdain. They stood in the center of Grian’s base interior, the avian cradling the egg in his arms.

“Someday I’m going to hide this egg a thousand blocks away in the ocean,” he said. “I bet you’ll waste your time then.” This was only met with a snort.

“Hey, I might. You never know,” Scar shrugged. “You never let anyone near it, it only makes it more fun!”

Grian rolled his eyes, biting back a smile at the other’s blatant ignorance. “I never let you near it. Besides, it's a fruitless attempt for me at this point.” He turned and rested the egg on a nearby anvil. “If I don’t let anyone near it, it’s because you told them to touch it in the first place.”

Scar raised a finger to say something but clamped his mouth shut with a reddening face. “Mumbo wanted to touch it,” he opted to retort.

The other didn’t reply, only facing his friend with a raised brow and crossed arms.

“Okay maybe I talked him into it but that’s not the point.”

Only now did Grian break into a grin. “Well, I hope you look forward to never seeing this egg again.” He tapped at the top of the shell. “It’s too special to lose.”

“Yeah I bet it is after it took five minutes to kill the dragon,” Scar laughed. “You’ve never told anyone why it’s so special, though. I’m curious.”

“That’s for me to know,” he jabbed a finger at Scar ,”and for you to never find out.”

“Ah, but I will.” Scar pulled his sleeve to check his watch. “But, my time here is done. I’ve got wagons to build.” With a tip of his hat, he exited the base.

Grian watched as the door shut behind him. “Talk about time management,” he mused.

With that, he sighed and swiveled his gaze to the egg. Under the later afternoon beams, it was a beautiful thing. Its contents, however...The avian shook his head. For now, it was a peaceful souvenir from his battle. Although, it wouldn’t be his to keep. Not for hundreds and thousands of years. It belonged to a much more powerful family of beings.

And so Scar needed to keep his hands off of it.

Despite this, however, Grian hardly minded the shenanigans. He wasn’t exactly praised by the egg’s owners; really, he lacked a more...optimistic relationship with them. Having his rank and abilities revoked by the Watchers was almost as bad as being disregarded by them as a Player entirely. He shuddered at the thought but followed Scar’s choice to leave the building; he wondered what his neighbors were up to. Although, he probably shouldn’t have left the egg so exposed should Scar try to touch it again.

He rolled his eyes to himself, then looked around. Scar, like he mentioned, was stringing together small wagons. Grian cringed at how much copper the man used in his builds- not because of distaste but that he could hardly imagine himself spending so much time grinding for the stuff. He glanced at his roof.

Well, maybe he could.

His gaze then rested on Pearl’s and Impulse’s bases, then Mumbo’s. It was strangely quiet this afternoon. He’d hardly seen any of the three since the day before. Mumbo moreso, but the other two not so much. Curious, he made his way across the field. Only then did Mumbo’s head pop out of a hole by his surface farm did Grian notice that anyone except Scar was out there at all.

Grian stopped and watched as his mustached friend pulled himself out of the hole. Unsurprisingly, he was covered in patches of mud and dust starting at the tips of his fingers. As he noticed that Grian was there, he waved.

“Hey!” Mumbo greeted happily. He stood and dusted himself off in a useless effort to look somewhat presentable. “Sorry about the mess, I’ve been fixing some things in the potato farm.”

“I thought that usually didn’t involve rolling in the dirt,” the avian chuckled. “I’m trying to keep Scar off of the egg.” Mumbo raised a brow. “No, it didn’t work.”

“Huh, I thought he’d never find it in the sheep pen.”

Grian scoffed. “You’d think.”

“You could hide it in someone else’s base. Or better yet, in his own base,” Mumbo suggested.

The avian contemplated the idea, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I can’t really let it go anywhere else.”

“You can’t or you won’t? I can babysit the egg.”

At that, Grian laughed a single ‘HA’ at the proposal. “I’d rather have Scar just take it,” he replied. “No offense. It’s a magical egg, you couldn’t handle it.”

The redstoner gaped with offense despite Grian’s comment. “I think I’d be great at it!”

“Right, right,” the other sneered, but couldn’t help but to giggle at the thought. Eventually, he calmed himself. “Anyways, I’ve got work to do. I suggest a bath for you as well.” Grian looked Mumbo up and down. “You need it.” With that, he rocketed himself away with a salute.

Mumbo stared in disbelief, then turned to Grian’s house. He’d be a great babysitter for the egg! Grian was only just trying to insult his obvious responsibility. Seeing as Grian couldn’t keep the egg away from anyone, it wasn’t like he was much better at the task. Besides, he couldn’t kill the dragon, so what better way to obtain a dragon egg than through showing Grian just how responsible he was with it.

With that thought, the redstoner looked around. Nobody other than Scar, who was busy building, was around. So, he more or less stealthily creeped his way into Grian’s base. If anything he probably looked like a long legged spider. Mumbo expected the dragon egg to be hidden once more but much to his surprise, it was blatantly out in the open. He almost face palmed for Grian’s sake. It was too easy. He hastily plucked the egg from its place and shoved it into his inventory. Hopefully, Scar wouldn’t find it odd for Mumbo to have been there should he notice anything weird.

Mumbo left quickly and already began conjuring plans for a vault. Knowing Grian, it hardly needed to be in any way complex. Where to put it, however, was the question plaguing his mind. He really didn’t have a lot of space to work with. But, the underground potato farm should work just fine. Behind the backdrop was a perfect area. So, he did just that. Within hours, the vault was done and dusted. In it, a quartz interior with a pillar topped with a purple pillow. Mumbo looked around, admiring his work. He then turned to the pillar and pulled the egg from his inventory. He placed it on the pillow carefully, almost as if he wanted the egg itself to be comfortable. With a pat to the top of the egg, he left the vault.

It’s been a while since he last saw Grian. The builder should’ve returned to his base by now and saw that the egg was missing. Mumbo supposed that Grian was simply hanging out with their neighbors. He ascended the ladder, still covered in layers of soil that fell from the wrinkles in his now stained white undershirt. The redstoner peeked his head out of the hole. The sky was dark and littered with stars. Zombies groaned and skeletons' bones clacked blocks away.

Ah, Grian might’ve been sleeping.

He sat on the edge of the hole, legs still dangling inside, and checked his watch. It was late and tremendously so. How long had he been under the ground for? He raked his fingers through his hair. Well, time to sleep then. He made his way to the van and after he did, he looked out once more before sliding the door shut. Tucking himself into bed, he drifted into a peaceful slumber. The thought of the stolen egg hardly left any thoughts on his mind.