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hale-13 · 3 years ago

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Scare Tactics

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 19 Prompt - Fear

“And just to show you we mean business…” Peter flinched when his index finger was grabbed and sharply snapped in half, leaving him breathless. He didn’t scream though. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. “Tough kid,” the leader mused, petting Peter on the head. “I’m going to let my men work him over,” he said to the camera lightly. “You pay me within the next four hours and I won’t start cutting off things he’ll miss. Sure would be a shame… he’s got his whole life ahead of him you know.”

Words: 2407, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Character: Peter Parker, May Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan

TW: Canon Typical Violence, Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Torture

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“One more hour! C’mon, just one more hour please,” Peter begged, hands twitching and sweating as he looked around frantically. He could do it. He just had to do it.

“Whatcha doing Pete?” Tony asked right in his ear causing Peter to let out a high pitched scream and rip the VR headset off his head, nearly tossing it into the wall and only barely catching himself at the last second.

“What the fuck!” He exclaimed, panting and placing a hand over his racing heart – it was galloping under his fingertips. Tony, standing next to him with his hand extend like he was reaching out to touch Peter, had his face pinched up like he was trying not to laugh and failing spectacularly.

“What was that?” The man questioned, pulling the headset from Peter’s twitching fingers to set it down on the bed and safely out of reach lest Peter almost throw it again. “You okay?”

“You scared the shit out of me!” Peter told his mentor dramatically as his heart rate slowed to a more manageable rhythm. Damn he was so close to winning!

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “Thought you had a tingle or something,” he said with a teasing tone and that was it, Peter was never letting Tony and May have lunch together again. Tingle… seriously? “What were you doing anyway?” Tony asked, picking the headset back up and turning it around curiously in dexterous fingers.

“Playing FNAF,” Peter said with a shrug. “I had nearly won too!”

“Beg pardon?” Tony asked with a head tilt. “Did you just have a stroke? I don’t speak teenager.”

“It’s a game Mr. Stark,” Peter grumbled, grabbing the headset back to turn it off. “A horror game. You’re a security guard and you have to live through the night without a bunch of animatronic animals killing you.”

“Sounds exhausting,” Tony commented, passing Peter his untouched book bag – he was supposed to be doing homework while Mr. Stark was in a meeting but oh well. He could always do it later, it was the weekend after all. “Happy’s pulling the car around. You sure you don’t want to stay? It’s getting a bit late.”

“I’m good,” Peter insisted, throwing the bag over his back and tightening the straps a little to sit more comfortably. “Besides, May and I are supposed to marathon the new season of Lucifer tonight.”

“Ah yes,” Tony said with a smile. “Do tell aunt hottie I said hello would you? I’m looking forward to our monthly co-parenting coffee date next week – can’t wait to tell her about this!”

Peter groaned and blushed. “Please don’t,” he muttered, skirting around his mentor to get to the door. “See you next week?” He asked as he paused in the doorway, turning back to look at the man and smiling.

“Yeah I’ll see you next week kiddo. Don’t have too much fun this weekend!”

“Bye Mr. Stark!” Peter called as he raced to the elevator, bouncing impatiently on his toes as it descended to the garage where Happy was waiting in one of the many black town cars Stark Industries owned.

“Took you long enough,” he groused good naturedly as Peter hopped into the back, dropping his book bag into the foot well and buckling his seatbelt with a bright ‘hey Happy!’ before pulling out his battered copy of The Collected Works of Shakespeare. He was supposed to finish MacBeth before class on Monday morning and he had been putting it off for a while (re: the last two weeks). Thank god for SparkNotes!

He read in the peaceful silence of the car as Happy navigated the busy Manhattan roads into the more quiet streets of Queens, finally pulling to a stop in front of Peter’s building and unlocking the doors. “See you Monday kid,” he called as Peter jumped out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride Happy!” Peter answered as he shut the door and waved the car off before letting out a sigh. It had been a long week and he was looking forward to just hanging out with May and decompressing. He felt like he barely saw her these days since she moved to working nights – it had been way too long since their last Netflix binge sesh. Peter took the stairs two at a time, forgoing the ancient and slow elevator, and was soon standing outside his door, fumbling for his keys.

As he went to slip the correct key into the lock, Peter felt every hair on his body stand on end as a shiver tore through him. He paused and looked up and down his hallway. Everything was quiet and peaceful, nothing out of place, so why was his Spidey sense tingling? With a gulp, Peter looked at his door and felt his heart freeze in his chest. May!

Peter swiftly unlocked the door and threw it open only to pause just over the threshold.

May was seated in one of their kitchen chairs, pulled into eye line of the door to the apartment, and looking pale but utterly pissed as the masked man behind her jammed the muzzle of his gun further into her temple. Peter, his heart nearly beating out of his chest and his adrenaline spiking to leave a metallic taste in his mouth, held his hands up immediately in surrender. As if it would ever be a question with May involved.

“Close the door,” the man said firmly, jutting his chin and Peter felt it snap closed behind him, paying no mind to the other invaders that were scattered around the room, his eyes stuck only on May.

“What do you want?” He asked, surprised that his voice was steady – he could tell that his body was still and sure but inside he felt like he was about to shake apart; like he was standing in the epicenter of an earthquake.

“Your cooperation mostly,” the man with the gun answered, passing the weapon off to one of his underlings and approaching where Peter stood motionless, hands still raised, just inside the door. His eyes were a pale blue and they scraped over Peter’s form quickly before he held out his hand. “Phone, watch, bag. Give me anything that Stark might have chipped and don’t try anything funny. I’d hate for anything… untoward to happen to your Aunt.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, slowly pulling his bag off his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor with a thump. One of the men behind him picked it up and started riffling through it as Peter unlatched his watch and passed it over along with his phone. He was grateful that he hadn’t brought his suit with him to school today or he’d have a much bigger problem – assuming they didn’t already know he was Spider-Man of course.

“Search him,” the man called out as he dropped Peter’s phone and watch to the floor before pointedly stomping on them until they broke. Peter fought to hold still as he was patted down, making eye contact with May. She gave a minute shake of her head and Peter bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He knew she didn’t want him to compromise his identity for her but he would do whatever he could to keep her safe – Spider-Man be damned.

“He’s clean,” one of the goons called out, nudging Peter forward and forcing him to sit down opposite May.

“Peter Parker,” the leader mused, walking over until he took up all of Peter’s sight leaving May out of view and ratcheting Peter’s already frantic heart rate up more. “Tony Stark’s personal intern. How does one get that job eh?” He looked at Peter expectantly and Peter grit his teeth together.

“Right place right time,” Peter grunted, his eye contact never wavering. The leader frowned behind his mask and smacked Peter sharply, causing his head to whip to the side. It was more surprising than painful and Peter glared back in obvious loathing.

“That will be your only warning,” the leader grunted, leaning down so he was eye level with Peter. “Next time it’ll be your aunt. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Peter confirmed, gripping the arms of his chair tightly and trying to control his strength. By his count there were five men in their apartment. If he were alone or in the suit it wouldn’t be a problem but with May involved…

“Now let’s try again,” the man continued, pacing a circle around Peter’s chair like a shark circling prey and thus giving him the briefest chance to make eye contact with May again. The skin of her forehead was red and dented where the gun mashed into her face. But he eyes were full of fear and anger for Peter – her sight was locked on the cheek he could feel burning and already swelling. “How did you get your internship?”

“September Foundation,” Peter answered. “I submitted some of my work on clean energy and Mr. Stark was impressed enough to offer me the internship.”

The man hummed, stopping his circling and placed both hands on Peter’s shoulders, squeezing them. “But it’s not just an internship anymore now is it?” He questioned, tone light. “I doubt any normal intern gets access to Stark’s personal lab or stays overnight. For a while I thought you might be his bastard but, no, it doesn’t seem you are.” Peter tensed at the words and bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. “However you are important enough for him to pay handsomely for I’d wager.”

“He won’t,” Peter insisted, not breaking eye contact with May – she looked terrified now and he wasn’t sure who she was scared for most. “He doesn’t negotiate with kidnappers.”

“We’ll see,” the man said lightly, unconcerned. “Here’s the deal Parker. You’re going to come with us, quietly, and I won’t put a bullet through your aunt’s skull. I hear that you watched your uncle bleed out from something similar – wouldn’t want another death on your conscience now would you?” Peter flinched violently, unable to hold it back and felt tears prick at his eyes. He couldn’t cry now. Not in front of these assholes. “You’re going to come with us and, once we get you back to base, I’ll call in the order to let your aunt go. If they don’t hear from me within the next six hours… well I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Peter nodded slowly and tried to silently apologize to May – she was watching him with tears now cascading down her cheeks and shaking her head, begging him not to give in. “I’ll do whatever you want,” Peter agreed, sealing his fate.

His Spidey-sense screamed at him and he forced himself to hold still as the gun clocked him across the temple, knocking him out instantly.

—————————————

When Peter finally woke up some indeterminate amount of time later it was to a throbbing head and aching neck from sitting slumped over and tied to the most uncomfortable chair he had ever had the displeasure of sitting in. He opened his eyes with a groan to look around the room. It was darkened, of course because why wouldn’t it be, and empty, also not a surprise. The door in front of him was made of a dark metal the same as the chair he was sitting in which was bolted to the floor.

He tested the cuffs that were binding his wrists to each arm of the chair and found that they weren’t reinforced and should break easily with his strength. So they didn’t know he was Spider-Man then – that was a plus. Peter could work with that.

Before he could look around much more or even try to formulate a plan, the door in front of him flew open to admit multiple people, all in masks, and a camera set up that had Peter’s blood running cold.

“I have to thank you for your cooperation,” the man from earlier said gaily as he entered the room last. “You made this much easier than anticipated.”

“My aunt?” Peter asked, voice wobbling a little but his eye contact unwavering.

“Fine. As we agreed,” the man confirmed, kneeling down a little to look directly into Peter’s eyes. “Now we’re going to make Stark a little video, a one-sided video chat if you will, to ask him for a little… monetary gift. All you have to do is sit here and look pretty while we do all the work okay?” He said condescendingly, running a hand through Peter’s hair before patting his cheek mockingly.

It took all of Peter’s willpower not to head butt him directly in the nose.

The set up was done fairly quickly, the camera pointed directly at Peter and the red light blinking. His captor came to stand right behind him, hands resting on Peter’s shoulders again.

“Oh looks like he’s tuned it! Hello Stark, I think I found something that belongs to you,” the leader said, squeezing Peter’s shoulders. “You shouldn’t just leave your things lying around you know. Don’t want them to get displaced.” Peter grit his teeth in irritation and humiliation – he couldn’t believe he had let himself get kidnapped – that he had put Mr. Stark in this position! “Anyway,” he continued lightly, “I have a little request. A trade if you will. I’ll give you back your intern and you give me twenty million dollars and a clean way out of the country. Shouldn’t be too hard for you right?”

Don’t do it Peter tapped out on the arm of the chair in hasty Morse code. Don’t give them anything. I’ve got this Peter tried to say with his eyes. Trust me.

Later, his jaw hanging loose and his body aching with breaks and bruises, Peter will let a single tear fall.

The door knob turns and his adrenaline spikes.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump19 #Prompt: Fear #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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octothorpetopus · 4 years ago

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Yesterday Came Suddenly (Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid)

A disastrous car accident changes four lives forever.

A/N: this has a happy ending, I promise!

Tags: @rxseinbloom @cha0ticbisexual @starsandsupernovae @agenthotchner @ange-must-die

With the way both of them drove, it was a wonder it had never happened sooner. That being said, it wasn’t either of their faults, not Derek’s behind the wheel or Hotch’s in the passenger seat. It was no one’s fault when a deer came out of nowhere and Derek swerved on instinct, wrenching the wheel right without remembering they were riding the edge of a cliff. He slammed the brakes, but it didn’t matter, they already had enough momentum to carry them over the edge. The car was weightless for a moment, a moment that seemed to last forever. But the moment did end, and the car tipped, glass and metal crunching where they hit earth, first on the front right, then turning so they were rolling, rolling way too fast down the side of the hill, shattered glass flying as the world turned in a nightmarish carousel. It seemed like they rolled for hours down that hill, although it was probably only seconds. They never really knew, because Hotch was knocked unconscious upon first impact, and Derek smashed his forehead against the steering wheel sometime after that. At some point between blacking out and waking up, the car came to a stop, thankfully right side up. Derek woke with a start, gasping for air as if he was drowning. For a moment, he didn’t know what had happened, and all he felt was warm, sticky blood dripping onto his cheeks from a wound over his eye. Then the pain from his legs hit him, and he squeezed his fists so tight he felt the skin on his palms break, but it didn’t matter, it wasn’t anywhere near his legs. When the pain subsided (still, only slightly), he opened his eyes, and at first saw everything through a haze of red. Every window was completely shattered, but the cab of the SUV had held up surprisingly well. The hood, or at least as much as he could see, was crumpled, and the roof was full of dents, but the airbags and seatbelts had saved them from the almost certain death. They’d both have concussions, and Derek was fairly certain his nose was broken, but he was awake and alert, which was a good sign. His hands shook almost comically as he patted himself down. He’d have bruises where the seatbelt cut into his shoulder and waist, but his upper body was mostly fine. His legs, though, were a different story. His left leg bent nauseatingly at mid-thigh. Broken. The lower part of his right leg hung loosely from the knee. Definitely broken. With wavering hands, Derek unbuckled his seatbelt, wincing as it snapped across his bruised ribs. That was the first time he noticed Hotch. Hotch was still passed out, his chin resting on his chest. Derek couldn’t see much of Hotch, except that his left shoulder was sharply out of place and his face was dotted with tiny red cuts where the shattered window had slashed his face.

“Hotch.” He reaches over as much as he could to shake Hotch’s leg. “Hotch. Wake up, come on, Hotch, wake up!” Hotch woke in much the same way Derek had, panting and gasping for air.

“What- what happened?” His eyes scanned the car wildly before coming to meet Derek’s, and they were more terrified than Derek had ever seen him.

“There was… there was a deer, I think. In the road. I swerved, and we must have gone over the edge. The car’s pretty busted up. I’m mostly fine- well, no. Both my legs are broken. Other than that, I’ve got some bruises, a broken nose, probably a concussion, and possibly a broken finger. You look like you’ve got a dislocated shoulder, can you see what else?” Hotch, still slightly bewildered, unbuckled his seatbelt with his right hand.

“My legs are a little bruised up, and so’s my face, but my shoulder looks like it’s the only-“ he went silent, and Derek’s heart dropped.

“What?” He followed Hotch’s gaze down to his stomach, where a growing patch of red surrounded a narrow cut in his shirt. Gingerly, Hotch pulled the fabric away. A cut surrounded by glittering pieces of glass was leaking blood, having previously been camouflaged by the seatbelt. It didn’t look like it went all the way through, but there was already a significant amount of blood.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Hotch’s head fell back against the headrest. “Wait. Can you get your cell?” Derek found his phone on the console, but it was completely busted.

“Try yours.” With his okay hand, Hotch pulled his out of his pants pocket.

“No. It must have gotten crushed between me and the door.”

“Damn it.” If Derek had been any less practical of a person, he would have started crying. He certainly felt like it. But crying wouldn’t help Hotch, who was bleeding out from his stomach. “Hotch, we have to fix your arm if we’re going to have any hope or stopping the bleeding.”

“Okay. Do you know how to do that?”

“I’ve had some first aid training. But I’m also your only shot.” Hotch didn’t hesitate.

“Do it.” Derek turned as much as he could, giving a muffled cry as his legs burned under him. He braced one hand against Hotch’s ribs and grabbed his shoulder in the other. “I’m gonna count to three, and then you’re gonna say ‘wishbone’. Got it?” Hotch nodded, on the verge of hyperventilating but still somehow making an effort to stay calm.

“One… two… three…”

“Wishbone!” Hotch yelped as his shoulder cracked back into place.

“You good?” Hotch, panting, nodded. “You’ll need a better fix down the road, but that’s not our most pressing issue.” Derek, attaining with the effort, pulled off his leather jacket and hoodie. He handed Hotch the hoodie. “I need you to put pressure on the cut. I’m not sure, but the glass might have cut your aorta. If it did, we’re going to have a problem. I would get you out of there and try to hold pressure myself, but my legs-“

“Don’t worry about it, Morgan.” Hotch held the hoodie to his stomach. “We should get those legs set.”

“How?”

“I could try to find some sticks or something-“

“Hotch, you can’t go anywhere.”

“Give me your jacket.” Hotch, still holding the hoodie to his stomach, wrapped the jacket around it, holding the hoodie in place. “Voila,” he said, wincing.

“That’s not gonna last.”

“No, but there’s a first aid kit in the back. I’ll help you get your legs set, then you help me.” Hotch got out of the car, but didn’t shut the door. “There are a few trees down here, I should be able to get decently sized branches and make some splints.” Wobbling slightly, he walked away, disappearing into the underbrush. Derek sighed and sat back, waiting for him to return. Their phones were both dead, and depending on how much damage they’d taken internally, it was possible the trackers could have been destroyed. The same went for the car’s GPS. So if their electronic tracking was out the window, then what? They had been en route to the unsub’s house from the police station. JJ and Rossi had been interviewing the latest victim’s family one last time when Hotch had called and told them where to go. Emily and Reid had been at the coroner. The road that Hotch and Morgan had been driving on was a narrow road along a ravine, which they were now at the bottom of. No one else had been coming from the same direction, so there was no chance of anyone just seeing them on their way. It hadn’t been very long, but it was probably long enough that someone had realized something was up, and once they realized they couldn’t get in contact, it would be an all-out search. That being said, they wouldn’t worry about them until they arrested their unsub, which could be another hour or more, if he ran. And even once they realized something was wrong, they would have to search a significant amount of road. It was possible they could be stranded at the bottom of this ravine for a very long time. Their best bet was to get a fire started, and pray that some poor soul saw the smoke.

“I’m back.” Hotch was breathless, his forehead was shimmering with sweat, and his shirt was deep red around Derek’s hoodie, but he held two sturdy-looking branches in his arms. “Can you turn around?” Derek put his weight back on his arms and tried to swivel out towards the car door, which Hotch had just opened. He managed to turn his hips, but couldn’t manage to move his legs.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice straining.

“Then I need to move your legs, otherwise I won’t be able to get access.” Hotch loosened his tie and pulled it over his head. “Bite down.” Derek took the knot between his teeth and clenched his jaw. He screamed into the purple tie as Hotch seized his leg, even as gently as he could, and turned it out the door. “Just one more. You’re doing great, Morgan.” His other leg burned with a searing, white-hot pain, even after it was fully turned. Hotch pulled his jacket off, gasping as he wrenched the wound on his stomach. He ripped it into strips, which he draped over his shoulder. “This is going to hurt. Really bad.”

“Just do it,” Derek replied, muffled. Hotch lifted his left leg from the calf so that it sat in a completely straight line. Derek yelped, screaming curses into the empty, echoing valley. Hotch tied one of the branches to his leg with strips of his jacket. When he was done, he cupped Derek’s face in his hands, both of them panting heavily. It was a platonic gesture of affection, but a rare one from Hotch. It seemed like if there had ever been a time for it, it was now. The other leg hurt almost more, but Derek held onto consciousness. He would not pass out.

“Your nose might heal a little fucked up, but I’m not going to risk making it worse.”

“It’s fine, Hotch. Could you grab the first-aid kit? Don’t hurt yourself too much.”

“I’m fine.” But his pale, clammy face and the growing red patch gave him away. There wasn’t much Derek could do to stop him, though, was there?

Hotch wasn’t paying that much attention to his own injuries, frankly. He knew that was stupid, especially because Derek was right and if the glass had cut his aorta, he was screwed, but there wasn’t much they could do so far. The most there was in the first aid kit was gauze and bandages, which wouldn’t stop bleeding from a major artery. He could feel himself getting more and more lightheaded with every step towards the back of the car. The trunk wouldn’t open, but the window was completely knocked out, so he was able to reach in and pull out the first aid kit without scratching himself on the glass. From the front of the car, he could hear Derek groaning softly. Maybe there were some painkillers in there, even if it was just Advil. But first, they had some other stuff to handle.

“I have to get you out of there.” Morgan’s eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

“At least until the sun sets. It’s way too hot out here, if we stay in the car we’ll just get dehydrated that much faster. Also, it’ll be more comfortable for you when you’re patching me up.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“I’m going to have to lift you out of there.” Before waiting for a response, Hotch slid an arm under Derek’s arms and grunted as he lifted Derek over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He set him down so he was sitting against the side of the car. “This is where we’ll have the most shade.”

“Ow.” Derek prodded his ribs. “That hurt.”

“Yeah, whatever. Can you help patch me up?” Hotch unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the sandy ground along with Derek’s jacket and hoodie. A few drops of blood landed in the dirt alongside them. As he sat down on the ground, he handed Derek the kit.

“Let’s see… we’ve got gauze, band-aids, rubbing alcohol… nothing for sutures.”

“That’s fine, it wouldn’t have done any good if I’m bleeding internally.” Derek swiped a cotton ball soaked in alcohol across the front wound. Hotch hissed, but didn’t flinch. He allowed Derek to wrap gauze around his stomach, and then slumped against the car beside him.

“So… what do we do?” Hotch just shrugged. He didn’t know what else to do.

“I have no idea. We sit. We wait. And we hope.” Out of the corner of his eye, Hotch saw Derek begin to shake. His first thought was that he was having some sort of seizure from hitting his head, and Hotch’s gut dropped. Then he realized he was crying. He lifted his aching arm, but not the one that was dislocated, and wrapped it around Derek’s shoulders. He wished he could move his other arm enough to fully encompass his friend, but they’d have to settle for this for now. “They’ll find us.”

“God, I hope you’re right,” Derek said through his tears, which cut streaks in the blood and dirt on his face. “I know it’s stupid to be thinking about all the things I wish I’d done, but there are too many.”

“Yeah.” Hotch leaned his head against Derek’s shoulder, another uncharacteristically affectionate gesture, but then again, if there was ever a time for affection, it was now.

Derek was thinking about his house. It was a two-bedroom cottage in the DC suburbs, not the kind of place anyone would have expected from him. He tried his hardest to take care of his garden, but he was always gone too long and the flowers dried up. Who was watering the flowers? For that matter, who was feeding Clooney, his 11-year-old German Shepherd? If he died, would anyone remember to go check on him? He thought about the photos that lined the clean white halls, which he had always meant to paint a bright green but never gotten around to. There were pictures of his mom, his sisters, his dad, his friends. He thought about the tins of cookies stacked up on his counter, which Penelope brought over about twice a week. He thought about the episodes of Storage Wars piling up on his DVR. He had never planned for dying like this. He had a will, every FBI field agent he knew had a will, so that wasn’t an issue. But there were so many things he had never thought about before now. And then there were the things he always planned on doing, like taking Penelope to Thailand, which they’d always talked about, or learning how to weld, or-

“Hotch, can I tell you something?”

“What?” Hotch perked up, but he looked worse than ever. His hand was freezing on Derek’s arm, and the gauze on his stomach was already soaked through.

“I’m talking to you as a friend. Not as FBI agents, and you can’t be my boss about this.”

“Derek. We’re friends.”

“Okay.” Derek swallowed, his throat dry and dusty, but still began to speak. “I wish I’d told all the people I love that I love them.” His heart felt like it was twisting itself in two, but he kept on. “My team. My family. And… Spencer.” Hotch turned just slightly to look up at him, not as surprised as Derek had expected him to be. “I always thought I’d tell him later. I had a plan. I was going to wait and ask him to that French film festival next month. And then I was gonna walk him home and tell him how I felt. I had a whole plan, and now even if I make it through this, I’m still gonna have two broken legs. So no film festival.”

“I’ll be honest, Morgan… I kind of figured.”

“What, you knew I had feelings for him?”

“I didn’t know, but I had my suspicions.” Hotch chuckled and then groaned.

“How’d you know?”

“Well, you always loved to tease him, but last year, you really picked up on it. And I know you well enough to know that’s how you flirt.”

“Wow. You know how I know you’re a better profiler than me? Because you figured it out last year, and I barely got it five months ago.”

“That’s why I’m your boss.”

“So, what, you’re not gonna yell at me for falling for another agent?”

“No. Not right now, anyway. Morgan, don’t ever let this job stop you from loving someone. That’s where I’ve always gone wrong. Those rules exist for a reason, but sometimes… well, fuck the rules sometimes.” Hotch shivered, and Derek pulled him in tighter. It was unbearably hot out, but Hotch was still freezing. That was bad. That meant blood loss. “Still. I wish I’d said something.” He sort of hoped Hotch would say something like “We’re going to make it out of here,” but that wasn’t in the cards. Of course it wasn’t. Hotch wasn’t the kind of guy to make empty promises and Derek wasn’t the kind of guy to believe them. For the first time, he really looked out at the landscape around them. They were somewhere in the Nevada desert, surrounded by nothing but red dirt and the odd tree. The sides of the mountain they had been driving on sloped up around them, steep but not steep enough that they couldn’t have climbed up if not for their various injuries. They were far enough down that someone just driving on the road wouldn’t have seen them unless they noticed the tire tracks and stopped to check it out. His phone was busted, and so was his watch, but judging from the sun’s position in the sky, it was closing in on six o’clock. They had only been down here for a half an hour, an hour max, but who knew how long it would take the rest of the team to catch their guy? And even then, they had about 35 miles of road to check out, and the darker it got, the harder it would be for them to notice the tire tracks. The longer they were down here, the better it was looking that none of the major arteries in Hotch’s body had been harmed, but if they weren’t found within a few hours, that wasn’t going to matter. He’d bleed out anyway. And although his broken legs wouldn’t kill him, Derek realized if he didn’t get water, he’d die of dehydration, or starvation, or heat exposure, or hypothermia, or just plain old hungry desert coyotes. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, only he didn’t know who he was apologizing to. Hotch, maybe. Or God. Maybe it was to his father, who he’d always tried to be as good as, or maybe it was to Spencer for never telling him about his feelings. There were too many people Derek had to apologize to, and for the first time in his 30-something years of life, he was realizing he really might never get the chance.

Meanwhile, Hotch was considering his team. He found that that was how he spent most of his days, at least when Jack wasn’t around. Who else was there to think about? Haley? He didn’t like to sound callous, but there wasn’t much more to think about with her. Beth? Beth, who had left him and gone to New York? Again, what more could he say? There was only Jack, the team, and, well, her.

“Morgan, while we’re on the subject…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not the only one.”

“Not the only what? Person in love with Reid? ‘Cause if you say you are, I’m gonna-”

“No. Not Reid.”

“Good.” Derek paused. “Wait, then who?” The way he looked at Hotch, he really didn’t know. Then again, Hotch supposed he had always been better at hiding his feelings than the rest of them.

“Emily,” he said simply. “It’s always been Emily.” Beside him, he felt Derek’s head turn to look up at him.

“I- like, our Emily? Emily Prentiss? Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss?”

“No, the other Emily we both know- yes, Emily Prentiss.” Hotch let his head fall back against the car, his hand resting over the gauze on his bare stomach, which was warm and damp with his own blood. He was really bleeding out. It was only just beginning to click, but he pushed it down. Those were feelings he couldn’t afford to deal with right now.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell her? You know she loves you, right?” Hotch sighed.

“Maybe. I don’t know, maybe I know she does. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m her boss, and even if I wasn’t, we still work together. Our jobs rely on us being able to be impartial, and if we’re together… it clouds my judgement, and my judgement is all I have.”

“Hotch, not five minutes ago, you told me to fuck the rules. That was your exact wording. Your judgement if you and Emily love each other out loud instead of in that broody silence you both love so much isn’t going to change, because you’ll be feeling the same feelings you are right now, except then you won’t have the pressure of pushing them down that you’ve had to hold onto for so long. Fuck the rules, right?” Hotch turned to look down at Derek, smiling as much as he could despite the fading black at the edges of his vision.

“Yeah. Fuck the rules.”

Hotch didn’t look so good. Derek didn’t have much to think about, so he thought about that. Hotch’s breathing had slowed. A lot. And there was a lot of blood soaking through the gauze wrapped around his stomach, enough that another layer wouldn’t help. The sun was finally beginning to set, the signal that their chances were about to dim significantly. Even as bad as he looked, Hotch still managed to stand up.

“Where are you- Hotch, what are you doing?”

“I have to grab something. I’ll be right back.” Derek heard him open the door on the other side of the car and rifle through the glove compartment. He returned with a notepad and a pair of pens. Slowly, and with a lot of effort, he sat back down and ripped a sheet off the top of the notepad. He handed it to Derek, along with one of the pens.

“What’s this for?” Hotch grinned, but it was more like a grimace.

“Write him a letter. Spencer. Just… just in case.” With trembling hands, Derek took the paper and pen. He had to brace it against his own hand, so he wouldn’t hurt his leg, but he found he could steady himself enough to write what he needed to. Beside him, Hotch was writing a letter of his own. In shaky, splotchy chicken scratch, Derek began to write.

Spencer,

Don’t worry about me, kid. I know you, I know how much you love to beat yourself up for things. Don’t. What happened was no one’s fault but mine and that stupid deer in the road’s. Things happen and if you’re reading this, the worst thing happened. And if the worst happened, that means I never got to tell you how I feel about you. This is pretty clearly not how I wanted to tell you, but I wanted you to know. This letter is so you don’t have to see my face every day, knowing how I feel about you, and never get to say anything to me. I’m telling you you don’t need to. However you feel about me, just knowing that I love you is all that matters. Don’t feel bad about never telling me if you felt the same, and never feel bad about letting me die loving you if you didn’t. Loving you was all I needed, kid. But oh, man, the things I wish I’d gotten to tell you. I was going to ask you to that French film festival in Baltimore next month. I learned some French for it and everything. You were going to be so impressed with me. Actually, you’d probably shake your head condescendingly, smile, and tell me all about how wrong my pronunciations were, probably. Still. I’m sorry we’ll never get to do that. I’m as sorry that I’ll never get to hold your hand or kiss you in the rain as I am that I’ll never get to make fun of your hair or give you an awkward fist bump. You were my friend long before I ever fell for you and you’ll be my friend even when I’m gone. I’m running out of space to write. I love you.

Your friend,

D. Morgan

When he finished writing, he finally noticed the tears bleeding through the paper, mixed in with smudges of blood from his broken nose. He folded the letter and shoved it in his pocket. That letter would survive the sun and the elements. Even if he didn’t.

Hotch was writing his own letter. At first, he didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? I’m sorry I’m dead, I love you? But then again, that was probably better than saying nothing at all. So he started writing, really having no idea where he was going at all.

Dear Emily,

This isn’t an apology. I think I should say that first. Although I have a lot to apologize for, I only have a little room and I don’t want to take up your time with the things that won’t matter if you’re reading this. The long and the short of it is that I never told you how I felt about you. How I feel about you even now as I write this letter. I know I said this wasn’t going to be an apology, but I am sorry about not telling you sooner. There was just too much to think about. There’s less to think about now. All I can think of is Jack and you. If I ever get out of here, I swear to god I’ll tell you that myself. I didn’t tell you because you deserve so much more than me. You deserve the entire universe and then some, so much more than one tired old man who can’t even save himself. I have a few requests for you, if it’s not out of line for me to ask. First, don’t blame me, don’t blame yourself, and if Derek gets out of here and I don’t, don’t blame him. It’s no one’s fault. Second, Haley’s sister can and will take Jack in, but make sure he knows the team is as much his family as any of his blood relatives. I don’t worry about him forgetting me, but I don’t want him forgetting you either. My last request is my biggest. They’ll have to fill my position as soon as possible, and I want them to give the job to you. You’re the best suited to take over, and I trust you to keep the team on track. Strauss will put up a fight, but there’s a document in my desk that outlines all of my reasons and wishes for the team following my death. Your promotion is the first thing on that document. If you don’t want the job, I obviously can’t make you take it, but if your only reason is because you think I only want you to have it because of my feelings for you, it’s not. My faith in you as an agent, as a person, and as a friend is never-ending.

-Hotch

Before putting the letter in his pocket, Hotch turned to Derek, his face and tone stern.

“Derek. If anything happens to me, if you get out of here and I don’t, you make sure this gets to Emily. Promise me.”

“I promise, Hotch, of course. You’ll do the same for me?”

“Yes.” Hotch held his hand out for a shake, but Derek just took it and held it, his hand warm and firm against Hotch’s. “We should start thinking about a fire. It’s going to get cold out here before too long.”

“I don’t think so, Hotch. I can’t walk, and you’re not looking too good.” Hotch couldn’t see himself, but he didn’t feel good either. His heartbeat was thready, but fast, like a hummingbird’s. His vision spun, and his grip was weakening by the minute. If he had been a praying man, Hotch would have started praying about now. But he didn’t really believe in God, so who was there to pray to? He turned his head up towards the darkening sky and thought of Emily.

It was fully dark now. Stars unlike anything Derek had seen in Chicago or D.C. lit up the sky, and he would have marveled at their beauty if not for the cold that was beginning to dig deep into his bones. Between the two of them, they had three jackets that they had sort of formed into a patchwork blanket over them, but it wasn’t enough. Hotch shivered against him, and Derek felt more powerless than he had at any point since the crash. His friend was dying, like it or not, of blood loss and hypothermia and god knew what else, and there was nothing he could do except wait for them to be found. They were both still awake. That was good. But they hadn’t seen a single car pass by in five hours, at least. That was bad.

“Come on, buddy, stay awake.” Derek shook Hotch gently, careful not to touch his bad shoulder. Hotch blinked rapidly, but he looked more exhausted than ever. In the dark light, he was ghostly pale.

“I’m up.”

“Good.” Together, they watched the stars for a bit. “Spencer taught me some of the constellations.” He pointed as he recognized them. “That’s Gemini, the twins. And Columba, the dove.”

“I never knew anything about astronomy. I always had a plan to learn, but then…”

“Time gets away from you.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“I was going to learn how to bake.” Hotch didn’t respond. “Hotch?” When Derek glanced down at him, Hotch’s eyes were just fluttering shut, and his muscles relaxed. He looked like a rag doll. “Hotch, come on. Come on, buddy. Come on.” Derek shook him more aggressively now, caring less about whether he hurt the busted shoulder. Hotch could recover from a dislocated shoulder, but he wasn’t going to get the chance if they didn’t get some help, and soon. “Help!” Derek screamed, his voice ripping through the empty black fabric of the desert. “Someone help us, goddamnit!” Other than an echo off the side of the ravine, there was nothing. And then there was something. At first, he thought maybe he was imagining it, or that it was just the stars reflecting off the red rocks. Then it got closer, and he realized what it was.

Headlights.

If he could have stood up, he would have, but he settled for screaming. “Help us! We’re down here!” The headlights slowed, and Derek saw them glance off the shiny black finish of the Lincoln SUVs he recognized so well. Four silhouettes appeared in the lights, and one of them shone a flashlight down. Derek flinched at the brilliant light, but still, he smiled, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Morgan?” Rossi’s voice bounced off the rocks to reach him.

“You gotta get us out of here!”

“We’re coming down!” Carefully, but as quickly as they could, the four silhouettes clambered down the side of the cliff, which wasn’t so much a cliff as it was a steep, rocky hill. JJ reached them first, her eyes wide.

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“There was a deer in the road, I swerved… you get the rest. Look, we have to get Hotch out of here, he’s lost a lot of blood and he just passed out.”

“Hotch!” Emily, who had just arrived, rushed to him. “Rossi, give me a hand.” Together, the two of them managed to secure Hotch’s arms over their shoulders and begin to carry him out. Spencer was the last to arrive, passing Emily and Rossi on their way out. He gave a short, pained cry when he saw Derek sitting on the ground.

“I’m okay, kid.”

“No, you’re not! I- your legs!” Derek ignored this momentarily.

“JJ, call 911. I’ll have to stay down here until the ambulance comes, there’s no way you can get me out without a stretcher.”

“I have to go back up to get service.” She looked between Derek and Spencer nervously.

“I’ll stay with him. Go.” She began the climb back up, and Spencer knelt in front of Derek. “Derek, follow my finger.” Spencer held up a finger and waved it back and forth in front of Derek’s eyes. “What’s the date today?”

“February… uh…”

“Derek.”

“I can’t remember.” Spencer paused, his brow furrowed in focus, but relaxed.

“You’re almost certainly concussed, but so far, it seems like you’ve avoided major brain damage.”

“Oh. Good.” Despite the pain that hadn’t subsided since the crash, Derek managed a smile. “It’s good to see you, kid.”

“What the hell happened?” Spencer asked, uncharacteristically tender. His face was weary and ten years older than he had been this morning.

“Deer jumped into the road, I swerved. The car held up better than I would have expected.”

“You could’ve died.”

“I’m aware.” Spencer hesitated, searching Derek’s face with those big hazel eyes, the eyes that saw everything, like he had some kind of superhuman x-ray vision. “Spencer, I-” He was cut off by the sound of sirens. “Christ, that didn’t take long.”

“Well, we’ve kinda had a whole search party going for the last couple of hours.”

“You found me.” Spencer squeezed his hand, and if Derek’s heart hadn’t already been pounding, it would have started.

“I found you.” They were joined by a series of EMTs with a stretcher, who carried Derek out of the ravine, noting as they went the cleverness of the splints Hotch had made. No one said anything about Hotch.

Hotch woke up in a quiet, empty hospital room with sunlight streaming in through the windows and an oxygen mask over his face. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t in pain. They must have loaded him up with painkillers for his shoulder. Also, he wasn’t dead. That was nice. The door opened, and Emily stepped in, holding a Starbucks cup and looking dead tired. She didn’t seem to notice he was awake at first, and she leaned against the door, breathing slowly and deeply.

“Come on, Aaron. Wake up. Please.” He cleared his throat as best he could, and she jumped. “Oh my god!” He smiled.

“Hi.”

“I- hi.” She sat down in the chair beside his bed. “We were worried about you for a while there.”

“Yeah? Last thing I remember was Morgan telling me about constellations, and then…” He gestured to the room around them.

“You lost a lot of blood. If we’d gotten there even a few minutes later, I don’t-”

“You didn’t. You got there in time. Don’t think about what didn’t happen.” She brightened at that, a brilliant smile spreading across her face.

“Oh!” She jumped again, this time in recollection. “Your clothes are kind of ruined, but they found this in your pocket.” She pressed the letter, the one he’d written to her in what he thought were his last moments, into his hand.

“Did you… did you read it?” She shook her head, completely innocent to the letter’s contents. Good. He had hoped she wouldn’t have to read it. He hoped she would never have to read it.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Just a contingency plan, I guess.” She nodded, as if that was enough explanation, although Hotch could tell it wasn’t.

“Listen, Hotch-”

“Emily, I-”

“You go first.”

“No, go ahead.” Emily folded her hands as if to steady them and stared at the spot just above Hotch’s head. Hotch recognized that well. She couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes.

“You flatlined in the ambulance. Twice. And I’ve never been as scared in my life as I was those two times I thought you were gone for good.”

“Em-”

“No, let me finish. I know… there’s a lot of things we’ll have to figure out, but Hotch…” Her pleading, earnest eyes bore into him. “I think maybe I love you. I think maybe I have for a long time. And it’s not worth it for me to stay quiet anymore. If you need to transfer me to a different unit, um, I-”

“Emily.” Despite his gentle tone, she still looked up at him, shocked. “You’re not getting transferred.”

“Hotch, I can’t ask you to-”

“No, Emily. You’re not getting transferred and I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do.” Slowly but surely, he reached over to take her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

“...oh.”

“All I could think about out there was you and Jack. I’m not staying quiet anymore either.” Emily tried and failed to bite back a grin.

“We’re going to have to talk to HR.”

“Yep.”

“Strauss is going to flip her shit.”

“Strauss isn’t going to find out, and if she does, she’s going to have to take me down.”

“We’re doing this?”

“I’m up for it. Are you?” Emily didn’t hesitate. She just kissed him, careful to avoid his arm and stomach injuries. Hotch was honestly pretty sure it was the best kiss of his life. Almost made the near-death experience worth it.

Derek also woke up in a sunny hospital room, only his wasn’t empty and it was far from quiet. The first thing he heard was Spencer yelling.

“...I know you did an MRI, but you need to test his TBI and monitor his ICP! Christ, where did you get your medical degree, the internet?”

“Spencer.” His voice was low and raspy, but it got Spencer’s attention well enough. “Let the doctors do their jobs.”

“But they’re not, they’re not running all the tests they should be, and-”

“Spencer.” Like a petulant child, Spencer quieted, and the doctors took their chance to leave. He didn’t stay annoyed for long, he couldn’t help it.

“How are you feeling?” Derek sighed.

“Well, I’ve got one hell of a headache, but the painkillers seem like they’re doing their jobs.”

“You got lucky. Only one of your legs was a total fracture, and neither one caused much internal bleeding.”

“How about my nose? Is my face gonna be all fucked up?”

“It took a little plastic surgery, but your nose will be good as new.”

“Good. One of us has to be the pretty one, and we both know it’s supposed to be me.” Spencer tapped a nervous melody on his bony knee, which bounced like what Derek liked to call Restless Leg Syndrome On Steroids.

“You should have driven with us. I know you hate sitting in the backseat, but-”

“Spencer. It’s not your fault. Or mine.”

“Yeah. I got that.” Derek’s brows furrowed. What the hell did that mean? Spencer brushed his curls off his forehead, trying not to smile and failing desperately. He hugged Derek tightly, and Derek let him, despite his bruised ribs screaming.Derek unbaked deeply, taking in the scent of coffee and lemon soap he knew so well. He had nearly fallen into a trance when Spencer spoke. “So, French, huh?”

“What?” At first, Derek thought maybe he had gotten some severe brain damage. Then it clicked and he pulled out of Spencer’s arms, eyes wide and heart in his throat. “...you read it.”

“It fell out of your pocket in the ambulance. I thought…” Spencer laughed, a little bitterly. “I thought maybe it was your will.” Derek didn’t know what to say. He really was at a loss for words. Everything he had meant to say was in that letter, which Spencer had already read.

“Then you know how I feel about you.” Derek opted for confidence, with just a touch of defiance. He was daring Spencer to make the next move. Spencer, who had never been particularly daring in Derek’s eyes, made his move. He kissed Derek, so fast Derek didn’t register it until Spencer’s teeth grazed his lower lip, and his hands were already tangled in Spencer’s messy curls. When the kiss finally broke, Spencer flushed from his neck to his ears. “So. It’s probably a little late to ask if you feel the same way.”

“Sorry. I just… I thought I was being obvious for so long, and you just never noticed. I figured I couldn’t get more obvious than that.” Derek reached up to cup Spencer’s cheek, running his thumb over Spencer’s perfect pink lips.

“Je veux faire ça depuis longtemps,” he said, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Vous auriez dû le faire il y a des années,” Spencer replied.

“Yeah, I don’t know what that means.” They stared at each other in affectionate silence and then burst out laughing. It was the same easy warmth they had had between them for the last nine years, only now there was more. The love had not replaced the friendship, it was just another layer. Derek took Spencer’s hand and squeezed, smiling gratefully. “You saved my life, Spencer Reid. Not just because you got me out of that ravine. Not just because you bullied the doctors into giving me all the tests in the book. You saved me because I had something to fight for out in that Nevada desert, and I’ll always owe you for that.”

“You’ll never owe me anything.” Spencer shrugged. “Isn’t that kind of the point?”

“I’m sorry we won’t be able to go to that film festival.”

“Who says?”

“Uh, the plaster casts that’ll be on my legs for the next six to eight weeks?”

“So you’ll go in a wheelchair. You’re taking me out, man, just like you said you would.” Derek hesitated.

“Take me for a walk.”

“Huh?”

“Take me outside. Then we’ll talk.” Spencer shrugged.

“I’ll check with the doctors, but that should be fine. One second.”

Momentarily, they were outside. Across the street from the Nevada hospital, there was a decent park. Spencer pushes Derek in a wheelchair, tossing his hair in the cool winter breeze.

“Are you enjoying being home?” Derek asked.

“Alright, out with it,” Spencer said, ignoring the question. “What’s the deal? Why don’t you want to go?” Derek sighed.

“Come look at me.” Spencer circles around him and crouched so he was at eye level for Derek. “I don’t want to go because it’s in Baltimore.”

“And? What’s wrong with Baltimore? We go to Baltimore for drinks once a week.”

“Yeah. And how do we get to Baltimore?”

“Derek, whatever you’re trying to say, will you just say it?”

“I don’t want to get back in the car!” Derek shouted. “I don’t want to go to Baltimore because I don’t want to drive there.” Spencer stared at him analytically for a moment, then smiled softly and patted Derek’s knee.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ll just watch action movies at your place.”

“And you’re… okay with that?”

“Yeah. I feel like I owe you that much, at least.”

“You’ll never owe me anything.” Derek pulled Spencer down to kiss him quickly, but sweetly. “Isn’t that kind of the point?”

#criminal minds #cm fanfic #cm fan fiction #cm fic #cm #cm angst #moreid #hotchniss #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

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slashingdisneypasta · 5 years ago

Note

Hi, could you consider? Jason Voorhees x reader thing where the reader was Jasons friend before he died and now they visit the camp every year to pay their respects on the aniversity of his death and they sorta rekindle their friendship after a while?

I tried to go with big events or staples in Jason’s life ^^ But my knowledge of Friday the 13th movies is… a bit limited… my bad. I hope you like it anyway!! I hope its what you wanted ^^

1958 (Reader and Jason are like, 12 here):

When I… saw him, I was scared. At first. Not of him exactly, I don’t think at least, but of the entire situation. He was supposed to be dead, and things that are alive after that are never showed in a sweet light. Vampires, zombies, ghosts.

But then he held my hand like he always would and gently lead me to his old cabin, where apparently, he was still living. I felt happy, I gave him the picture I drew him, and he smiled at me. I thought he could come home with me now, and everything would be okay! But… something was different about it all. His hands were always cold, but now they felt freezing. He spoke even less then he used to, as well. And the cabin was dirty, and he couldn’t possibly live here comfortably.

And then, I asked him to come back with me and mum. “Its okay! Jason, now we can go back home, and you won’t have to live here! We can still be friends! I’ve missed you.”

He gives me a tiny smile back, but awkwardly pulls his icy hand away from me. Shaking his head, he steps back and sits on his mother old bed. Which is mouldy and where the sheets to be white, are brown now. So, I don’t sit with him. “I… can’t go… “

My heart sinks, because of something worse than disappointment. “But… you can’t live here!” There’s no food, or clean water, or proper shelter! And… no parents. The idea is insane!

I watch while his fingers clench into the mattress his mother used to sleep on, and feel a dull, slow realisation dawn on me. Like when you’re three days from having to go back to school after a wonderful holiday. “M-my… my mum… “ I look up him with wide, furrowed eyes while thinking about all his changes. He died, even though its hard to believe, looking at him. The cold isn’t bothering him, in some places moss from the water still clung to him in some places, he was comfortable in this place that I couldn’t ever stay in no matter how much someone paid me. He’s changed so much… to the point where, weirdly, he fits here. And I can’t think of a thing that I could say or do to change his mind.

For the first time in my life I feel completely, wholly helpless. There’s nothing I could ever do, to… save him. His eyes are duller than they were when… we were friends… and he’s not him anymore. Even though it look, and feels like him. My friend Jason is gone.

He’s gone somewhere I can’t follow him.

1983:

Awkwardly, I purse my lips, looking around at the forest while Jason carves into some wood, bored himself. I think that’s the piece of wood he was working on last year. “Okay… well, bye Jason.” I have been waiting for this all day! I want nothing but to leave Jason and get back to my family, the people I chose. It no longer feels like a choice to see Jason, even if it only once a year.

Its not like he makes me, its more that I force myself to come because I have my whole life since he died and if I couldn’t handle the guilt if I left him alone on his anniversary day one year. It used to be nice, when once a year my mum would drive me up and here and I would get to see my friend, even if it was different and weird. But soon enough, somewhere between high school and getting married, it became a burden. Because, really, what do we have in common?? Nothing. Why are we dragging this on, when all we have in common is history? History means very little when theirs no good memories to give it substance.

Oh… shit. Even thinking that sentence in my head felt bad. Of course, there were good memories… but its been so long since we’ve made a new one that I’ve forgotten what it felt like. What little I do remember, from when we little, feels made up. That’s how little it surfaces now.

As I pat his shoulder and get up from the porch where we were sitting for 4 hours -Four long, painful hours, - I accidentally wobble a bit and get a glimpse of the back of his head on accident. For a moment I keep going, getting to my feet and turning to walk off to my car, before I realise that what I just saw was not normal. People do not have dents like that in the back their head. Well, I mean, some people with the same condition Jason has sometimes do, but he was not born with this particular depression. I whip back around, surprising him and look shocked at him. “What the hell is that!?” He grunts, and shifts uncomfortably at that because he doesn’t talk anymore, and I soften my look a tiny bit in apology, knowing he doesn’t like swearing. “Right, sorry.” I roll my eyes. “But what is that crater in the back of your head Jason?!”

He sighs, deeply and shrugs.

“No, don’t you give me that. What is it? You bang your head on a branch or something??”

Not sure how a branch would make that kind of dent, but, it works to get the ball rolling. Maybe he’ll think the idea is so ridiculous that he communicates to me what it was just to set me straight. He does think I’m kind of ridiculous.

Yea, because he’s a hobo recluse who lives in the forest all alone, so he’s wiser apparently.

I watch him roll his eyes, before thumping on away from the cabin, leaving me alone abruptly, before coming back with an axe which is… not comforting. I glance from it to him and back again a few times, and he just rolls his eyes and shakes his head again.

Then he holds it up to thoroughly show me, causing me to notice the blood on it, then touches it to the dent. Finally, he grabs my hand -his is still cold as fuck, -, and holds it to his chest. Where there’s no heartbeat.

“What?” At first, I don’t get it at all, scrunching up nose in obvious confusion.

Then… slowly… it dawns on me. I gasp. “Who hit you in the head with an axe??!” He was already pretty dead, but this is new. Can’t say I feel surprised at all that he can live without a heartbeat, seeing as he survived drowning when he was 11, but this is new, at least.

Now he’s really gone somewhere I can’t follow. And can’t relate to.

2003:

I don’t know how long I’ve been out for, but it can’t be long when I open my eyes -the word a little blurred at first. The only things I can make out being a giant dark looking thing that could be a rock looking very still and another, brighter coloured one jumping on it.

Eventually those figures turn into Jason and that fucker that slashed me, - because they’re both still there near me. As far as I can see from the fight, as I get up from the earth and leaves and little twigs and dirt drop off my clothes and the wounds across my abdomen hurt like hell, is that Freddy’s doing most of the fighting, but Jason isn’t taking much damage. Good… okay… what can I do… I think, as I look around for a weapon.

Gadzooks! It’s my lucky day. Behind them, near me, I catch sight of Jason’s machete. He must have dropped it… Works for me.

On my way over to them, watching to see if either of them notice me back up on my feet, I pick up the weapon. Luckily, I’m pretty sure they both think I’m dead. So, it’s that much sweeter when I reach them and tighten my grip on the very long, sharp sword thing. Then I grit my teeth and ram the disagreeable thing into someone even more disagreeable.

Jason watches with a sense of surprise that I’m only just able to pick up on, because I know him so well, and a tiny flutter of a smile crosses my, probably terrible looking at the moment, face. “You couldn’t get rid of me when you died, and you certainly won’t just because I do.” I say, out of breath. These two may be immortal with the freaken stamina of 30-year old’s but I, am an old woman now. And kicking ass takes a bit out of me. Being too smart to drop the machete, instead roughly pulling it out of the sweater-wearers spine and walk with a slight limp, away from the scene. God, fucking… I really, almost died just then. And it feels like it. Where’s my phone? I need a goddamn ambulance.

Freddy, still alive I’m sure - a stab in the back is not going to keep him down, but I figure it’ll handicap him enough for Jason to take a good lead, - slips to his knees and I listen to the sweet melody of him groaning in pain as I hobble over to a considerably clearer area of earth, to sit down on and assess my injuries. “Bitch… “

Serves him right, the bastard. There are three deep scratches in my stomach, thoroughly ruining my one good white shirt, and making me a little woozy due to the blood loss. I look up from them to Jason, who’s staring at me in worry instead of finishing the fight. To reassure him, I flash a bigger smile and nod, gesturing for him to go on. “I’m fine, Jason. It’s okay. I’ll be waiting right here when you’re done.”

“Yeah- Hockey Puck -Fight hard for your girlfriend, heh heh,”

I look back down at my wounds and start thinking about what I need to do about them, ignoring the goblin completely. I hear a terrible, raspy gasp and then some screaming, and I know Jason’s thrown Freddy somewhere again.

An hour later, I’ve watched the teenagers leave, the group now cut cleanly in half and wait patiently, anxiously for Jason to come back too. The longer I wait, the worse I feel. dread fills up every part of my body that isn’t already full with pain from my wounds and a plain, dull, aching fear and I’m suddenly struck in the face with the thought that maybe Jason won’t come back. Maybe he’ll really lose this time.

He’s never fought someone like him before. This whole time I thought he was some invincible, super monster but, what if by monster standards he’s not??

I’ve never really felt the worry I’m feeling now. Not since he drowned, the first time. All these years after I’ve just coasted along with him, visiting once a year and forgetting about him the rest. It was like a chore, like something I had to do.

But now I’m afraid to death that he’s actually gone, and I’m stuck, stewing in the fact that I care about him. He’s an old friend, I love him. He can’t… he can’t die first. I’m the weak human!

I can’t believe I’m only realising this now. What an absolute idiot.

Just as I’m pushing myself up to my feet, to go searching in the direction he went in, I hear familiar, heavy footsteps and nearly damn well cry suddenly with immense relief. I sit back down, heavily and hide my face in my knees once I’ve seen him, trudging towards me. He looks so bad, but… animated. And that’s the main thing.

Ohhhh my god…

I feel the behemoth of a zombie, familiar to me in every sense of the word, like childhood, teenage, young adult, middle aged, and every other kind of memory put into one sit down on the grass with me. I peak up at him and can’t help the smile on my lips, tugging at the corners of my lips as the sun starts to come up over Camp Crystal Lake.

Sighing in relief, I explain my reaction to his return. “You’re okay?”

He nods, and raises 5 thick fingers to my stomach in question. I take his hand in mine, instead of leaving it to hang, and it feels good. “That’s fine. I’ll be okay. Thank you for asking, Jason.”

He curls his hand around mine in turn, as I lie down on the lush green grass, and try to rest. Finally, things feel alright again.

My eyes fall gently closed. Now I’ll go somewhere he can’t follow me. He’s never been good at death.

#Jason Voorhees x Reader #Jason Voorhees #Friday The 13th #Friday the 13th Part 2 #Freddy Vs Jason #Freddy Krueger #Oneshot

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for-ests · 5 years ago

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Please Don’t Go: Kageyama Tobio (Part 2)

Part 1

Warnings: mild gore, angst, then fluff

Word count: 2, 757

Sirens lit up the once vacant, lifeless street, signaling to residents that something grim had unfolded. Curiosity ushered everyone who was wakened by the crash to timidly stand by and watch. Many of them college students like yourself, some who knew you and prayed for your recovery.

Unfortunately, it took almost five minutes for the ambulance to arrive as strangers knelt beside you to make sure your breathing steadied.

Hearing the commotion from outside, and watching the red and blue lights reflect through her windows, Yachi gained the courage to step onto the street. Whatever had happened, she had a gut-wrenching feeling that you were involved. You should have arrived over 15 minutes ago, and she knew you were not the type of person to cancel last minute without warning. Especially this late at night, and after an argument with your boyfriend.

As those thoughts swirled through her brain, Yachi began to grow more panicked, her pace picking up as she rounded that fateful corner. She had called you five times, each call dialing fully until it reached your voicemail.

An ambulance was in sight, and so was a police vehicle. Her eyes scanned the road, noting a dent in a residential car and a group of first responders huddled around a female body.

Her stomach flipped. Just by glancing at the color of your hair, she knew it was you.

“Oh my god…!” The blonde gasped, sprinting towards you, tears gathering in her eyes. “No… No… please.”

A police officer heard her cry and turned towards her. “Mam, you need to stay back.” He warned calmly, stepping in front of her path.

Bystander’s turned their attention to her, as well as the first responders. A woman who had also been crying started to sob even harder, she looked away with an expression masked in guilt.

“That’s my friend!” Yachi replied desperately. “I need to see…” The words died in her throat. “She was walking to my house!”

The officer reassuringly set a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep her attention averted from your crumbled state. “She’s alive and in stable condition. Your friend will be okay.”

Yachi furiously wiped her tears away. “O-okay.”

“What’s her name?” The officer asked. “She’s unconscious and I need to write a name down.”

“Y/N, L/N.” She relayed, clenching her fists in frustration. How did this happen? Was there anything she could do? Yachi took a deep breath and closed her eyes again, trying to get rid of the rest of her tears. She needed to be strong for you, whatever had happened. You were going to be okay and that’s all that mattered. “She’s a student here.”

Despite that, her heart still pounded in her chest as she watched the first responders create a makeshift splint for your leg and arm, hoisting you onto a gurney. For a brief second, she saw your face. Cuts and bruises littered your ashen skin. “Please let me ride in the ambulance with her!” She asked, practically begging.

Since it wasn’t a critical emergency, Yachi was let into the ambulance to accompany you. She rushed over and hopped inside, managing to refrain from trembling at the seriousness of your situation. Normally, she wouldn't be able to speak, yet alone make a fuss at a legitimate crime scene, but she couldn’t leave you alone. You couldn’t be alone when you woke up.

You would do the same for her.

“She’ll be okay. Don’t worry.” The medic sitting across from her said as he hooked you up to an IV system. “She’ll head right into surgery.”

“Thank you.” Yachi managed to smile, though she knew it wouldn’t suffice. She was queasy. Your body looked mangled, and she could see the break in your lower leg, the bone almost breaking your skin.

The blonde gripped your hand through the short and silent ride to the emergency room. Squeezing it tightly, she quietly thanked God that your injuries hadn’t worsened. She watched your chest rise and fall, calming her own worries as the minutes passed.

For a moment, her conscious cleared past the present as she remembered the reason you were trekking to her apartment. Kageyama.

Yachi pulled her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket and immediately texted him.

Yachi Hitoka: Y/N was in an accident. She’s going into surgery, please meet me at the hospital on third street. I’ll call you when I arrive.

Kageyama Tobio: Please tell me she’s okay

Kageyama Tobio: Oh my god, please

Kageyama Tobio: Yachi?

One missed call from Kageyama Tobio

Yachi Hitoka: She’s going to be okay, I promise

Kageyama Tobio: I’m running there now

Kageyama Tobio: I’ll meet you in the lobby

Kageyama grabbed his wallet, keys, and a jacket before sprinting down the same street you had before. Heart pounding in his chest, he ran as hard as he could.

He ran past the scene, barely paying attention to who was there, and who was tending to the mess. All he could think about was you.

How could he let this happen? How could he let you walk away?

Stressed beyond comprehension, he couldn't even cry. He ran the full twenty minutes to the hospital where Yachi claimed you would be.

Bursting through the hospital doors, he found Yachi's grief-stricken expression waiting for him.

"How bad is it?" He panted, biting onto his lip so hard that he could taste blood.

The blonde looked reluctant to tell him, seeming to realize that he would find himself at fault. "Broken bones."

Kageyama's heart fell. For a moment, he couldn't speak. He could not think.

Then suddenly, without warning, your boyfriend kicked the nearest waiting room chair. "Fuck!"

Yachi stepped back, startled. "It's not your fault!" She hesitated to reach forward and console him. Kageyama was incredibly rigid, shoulders tense and jaw clenched.

He slumped down in the same chair he tried to break, and didn't say another word until the doctor came to the waiting room four hours later.

❀∙∘✿∘∙❀

Surprisingly, you emerged from your slumber peacefully. Even if pain was the first thing to enter your mind, the second was the sight of your friends cramped into the small hospital room, all of them dozing off.

You blinked a couple times, trying to recall where you were and what had happened. Gazing down at your legs, you almost gasped aloud. The cast around the lower portion of your body seemed to reflect a broken femur. Along with some bones in your arm that you couldn’t identify. Your entire left arm was encased.

Starting to panic, your eyes darted to the man sitting beside you. Kageyama stared at you with tender eyes, the only person awake so he could give Yachi the couch to nap on.

“Good morning.” He whispered, squeezing your hand gently. Your cheeks inflamed when you realized he had been holding it the entire time. “You’re finally awake.”

Weakly, you squeezed his hand back. You immediately remembered what happened last night, and why you were even out on the street in the first place. It was strange how little your argument seemed now that you were lying in a hospital bed. Wondering if he felt it too, your lip started to quiver.

“I’m sorry.”

Your mouth parted in surprise.

“Sorry for what?”

Kageyama grimaced. Now, you could finally glimpse the reality of his expression. Anyone who knew him could tell he was disheveled. The bags under his eyes had worsened. It seemed like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

“What I said to you last night was unfair. I didn’t mean it. And now-” He started, too choked up to say anything coherent. You had the feeling he wanted to reach out for you by the way he stumbled with his words, and how he anxiously gestured with each sentence. You watched that thought leave his eyes as he remembered the pain you must be in.

Guilt was evident in his tone, in his eyes, all over his face.

“Y/N… I love you and I haven’t been showing it. I’m sorry.”

Taking comfort in the fact that Kageyama could finally admit his wrongdoing, caused a smirk to cross your face. He rarely showed emotion, and right now you were witnessing an overload. “It really took me getting hit by a car to make you realize that, huh?”

“Not funny.” He said, even if slight smile curved upon his lips.

“I thought it was funny.” You heard Yachi’s chuckle from across the room.

The both of you turned to find her already scrambling from the couch to your side. “How are you feeling?” She asked cautiously. “You’ve been asleep for ten hours. Surgery took four.”

“It hurts, but I’m okay. For now," You answered honestly. In the moment it was terrifying, but you were lucky that you only had broken bones. Yachi looked like she wanted to say more, her eyebrows creased with worry. “Thank you for being there with me.”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes to relieve some of the tension. The blonde could tell that you needed to have a private conversation with your boyfriend. “I should go get us some food, and let the doctors know you’re awake.”

“Thank you.” You weakly blew a kiss in her direction with your uninjured hand as she left the room.

Once the door closed, Kageyama leaned down and rested his head in your lap, hiding his face.

“Where’s your mind at?” You comfortably set your hand in his hair, running your fingers down the nap of his neck. Normally, you would be all too willing to fall back into his arms. But if that were to happen, the cycle would go on repeating itself. That’s not the life you wanted for yourself, and it was certainly not the life you wanted for Kageyama. If you couldn’t be the one by his side, hopefully someone else could.

He was struggling. And his way of dealing with it was pushing you away, something you couldn’t handle.

“What do you mean where’s my mind at?” He lifted his head, blinking in confusion. One hand was still intertwined with yours while the other gripped the railing of your hospital bed. You watched his muscles tense.

Strangely, the accident had provided your mind with clarity.

“I love you, Kageyama.” You gestured frantically between the two of you. There was barely a gap, but it felt like miles. “But do you still want to be with me? It feels like you don’t sometimes.”

“Of course I do.” He whispered. “I just… don’t want to bother you with my problems. I try to be better for you, for us, yet I keep failing.”

“You’re my boyfriend for a reason. I agreed to figuring out your problems with you.”

He knew he had no justifiable excuse. He had fucked up. What was wrong with his mentality? He hadn’t thought about you in his moments of despair. Your accident brought that to light and he couldn’t help but feel responsible.

“I love you, Y/N.” His shoulders relaxed. “I’ll do anything I can to make it up to you.”

“All I’m asking is that you show it more.” You reminded quietly, surprised at how quickly he had agreed with you. “I should be able to feel your love, like how I am right now.”

Your words were a challenge. After the years you had spent together, Kageyama was able to decipher your language.

“This last month has been difficult for the both of us. Not just you, Tobio.”

Suddenly feeling distressed, you prayed silently that your words were getting through to him. You wanted to kiss him so badly, to run your fingers along his face in a caressing touch. You wanted to move on like nothing ever happened but your heart couldn’t go through it again. There needed to be a change.

“You’re right.” He breathed, tension pulling harder and harder at the both of you. “I feel like you despise me. I don’t know how to make it right.”

His confession took you by surprise. Kageyama was never not confident, he never shied away from taking control of every situation. When he walked into the room, all eyes were always on him. You knew he was under an immense amount of stress and pressure because of it. But now it had taken a toll on your relationship.

“I’m not used to this… not knowing what to do.”

“You should be able to take comfort in the fact that I’m here for you. I should know things about you that no one else does.” You met his eyes again. “I thought you would have learned this after being together for three years.”

“Take comfort in the fact that no one has heard me say that before.” He leaned closer, an invitation. “You’re the only girl I need.”

Still upset, that comment made the corners of your lips curve slightly.

He was vulnerable for what seemed like the first time. That was a step in the right direction, a promising one. Now he knew you were serious. You wouldn’t tolerate his childish behavior any longer. You wanted something more with him, and he was going to have to work for it.

“I get so upset because… Because that’s how I feel too. That you’re the one for me.”

Even though Kageyama was sure you still wanted to scream at him, yet you held yourself with so much composure. It made his heart race. You looked beautiful just as you were, even when your eyes were red, hair matted to your face, and skin littered with cuts and bruises. He only wished this conversation happened sooner, because your injuries would disappear.

“I love you.” Kageyama repeated with glossy eyes. “For a moment I thought I had lost you.”

And with that, he closed the gap and pressed a kiss against your lips. His warmth enveloped you and you gripped onto him tight, as tight as you could without straining your weakened state.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” He whispered into your hair, holding your head to his. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize it.”

A few stray tears escaped your eyelids but he immediately wiped them away. His own were welling up, as he became unable to hold back any longer.

“You’re everything to me.” You tilted your head to kiss his cheek. You relished in the feeling of his hands grasping to you tightly, as if he might lose you again.

You hadn’t seen him cry in so long, longer than you could remember. He was always so strong, so secure. Most times it was because you thought he was emotionless when it came to you, but you had been proved wrong once again.

Kageyama opened his mouth to reply, but the door clicked open, signaling that Yachi was back to fret over you.

“Yay!’ She sang. “Everything is okay now?”

“Yes.” Kageyama replied, clearing his throat and refraining from showing any more emotion, especially in front of someone who wasn’t you.

“I’m great-" You gave her a thumbs up, chuckling as she started to unpack the food she had purchased. Well, Kageyama had. He had slipped her his wallet. “and starving.”

“Your wish is my command.” She handed you a plastic bowl of steaming ramen and packaged meat buns. Your mouth watered and you immediately reached to rip open the plastic.

"Um," You tittered, handing the buns back to Kageyama. "I need you to open it for me." Laughing helped subside the aches that came with every simple movement.

Your boyfriend snorted, and obliged. Unwrapping the snack, he held it to your mouth.

Food had never tasted so amazing as it did in that moment.

“Don’t eat too fast.” Chuckling, Yachi rummaged through the bag of snacks and handed Kageyama two milk pouches.

He smiled in thanks.

“I can’t believe after all these years that’s still your favorite.” You said through mouthfuls.

“Yeah.” Yachi teased. “You’d think he grow out of it by now.”

Kageyama rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

The rest of the day was spent watching movies and stuffing your faces full of unhealthy cafeteria food. Oddly, you wouldn't have wanted to spend it any other way.

#kageyama tobio #haikyuuwritersnet #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio imagine #haikyuu imgaine

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sweet-steddie · 6 years ago

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Love Fest (g.d. & e.d.)

Summary: You’re the Dolan twins’ little cuddlebug.

A/N: Hi there! I’m not new to writing fanfiction, but I am new to writing fanfiction about the Dolan twins. This is my first work about them and I hope it isn’t total shit. Whether you love it or you hate it, please leave feedback! If you think it isn’t half bad, please reblog. I’m taking requests, so please send them in! Here goes.

2.7k+

It’s Friday afternoon. I don’t have any classes scheduled for the day, so I’ll count that as a win. I’m only wearing a giant t-shirt and a sports bra and panties; no pants. I’ll count that as a win, too. But I’m not satisfied, because I’m a brat.

I heave a dramatic sigh. What’s taking so long? Where are they? I roll my eyes and groan out loud into the abyss. I pick up my phone for the umpteenth time and my sour pout is unrecognizable to my front facing camera so I have to physically type in my password, which is such a pain in the ass. I check my messages, because surely, I’m missing something. But nope. Nothing.

I check the group message and the last text message is from Grayson and it says We’re gonna be filming for the next few hours but we’ll be back as soon as we can! Love you and I had liked it and that had been that. But that was forever ago. And I miss my boys. I miss them to the point where I’m quickly becoming grumpy.

I check the time and realize that it’s only 2:15 in the afternoon, but still. It’s been four hours, four whole, entire hours, since I’ve seen my boys and that just simply won’t do. My resolve is nonexistent. I FaceTime Ethan out of pure desperation and it rings about 87 times before he answers. Just the top half of his face is in the frame, thick, arched brows raised in amusement and brown, droopy eyes alight with their usual mischief.

“Hi,” his voice rumbles through the speaker and I already feel slightly more at ease. But my demeanor remains pouty and I don’t respond, just simply stare him down through the phone. “What’s the matter?” he coos gently, pulling his arm back so that I can now see his pretty face in its entirety. His pink lips are twisted into a mild pout as he awaits my response.

I roll my eyes and pierce him yet again with another unwavering stare. “Eth,” I sigh, as if that’s enough of a substitute for a valid explanation. But he gets it. He and Grayson both always just get it. He sighs right back at me, giving me a sympathetic pout.

“I know, babe. I know,” he soothes, doe eyes penetrating my heart in the dumbest, mushiest way possible. “I miss you. I’m sorry we had to leave, but this is the only day that me and Gray would be able to shoot. Gray,” he suddenly addresses Grayson, looking out of the frame and I assume that he’s summoning him over.

Surely enough, Grayson pops into frame only moments later. His carefully defined jaw moves in a rhythm as he chews on his gum. His eyes, similarly droopy to Ethan’s, are soft and framed by angelic, long lashes as he stares me down through the screen. His hair is a bit messy, but in a way that lets me know that he styled it as such on purpose. He gives me a lopsided grin, dimple denting beautifully into the tan skin of his face.

“Hi, beautiful. Whad’dya need?” he asks and my stomach flips at all of the implications that my mind stirs up from the question. Still, I keep my expression sour. I petulantly shrug my shoulders in response, opting out of a verbal reply. They both know what I need, but I suddenly feel too embarrassed to say it out loud. Grayson hums his acknowledgment, nodding his head in the affirmative.

“We’ll be home in the next two hours, I promise. I miss you so much,” he reassures me and it’s ridiculous, really, how mushy we’re all getting over being separated for only four hours. But it’s just our dynamic. I groan at his answer, earning a sympathetic chuckle out of both boys.

“Two hours? 120 minutes? Grayson,” I whine and this time, the boys give a full-out laugh. I don’t see what’s so funny, but I’m cracking a little smile of my own. My stomach sinks a little as their laughter dies down. My obsession with these two is bordering on unhealthy.

“Two hours, baby. That’s all we need to finish filming and then we’re all yours.”

“And you’re all ours,” Ethan chimes in, raising a single brow and causing me to flush from the innuendo. The three of us have never done anything explicitly sexual, but everyone seems to be under the impression that I’m dating both twins. Probably because we worship each other, but that’s just a hunch. Our relationship is unique and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I roll my eyes to play off Ethan’s comment, but I see that both boys are wearing twin smirks as they observe me.

“What’re you guys filming about, anyway?” I ask to divert their attention momentarily.

“We’ll show you the footage when we get home. You’re gonna love it. Ethan is such a fucking idiot,” Grayson explains, laughing out his last few words as he looks over at Ethan, who’s rolling his eyes and lightly shoving Gray’s shoulder in retaliation.

“Asshole,” he mutters, but it’s good-natured and Grayson and I both share a laugh at his expense.

“Can’t wait. I’ll see you guys in two hours, sharp,” I emphasize and the twins crack smiles. I salute them through the screen and go to end the call, but I’m quickly interrupted by Ethan.

“Wait! Wait,” he exclaims, focusing the phone on only his face. I stare at him, silently giving him the go-ahead. “I love you. That’s it,” he says and I can’t help the cheesy grin that stretches across my face.

“I love you more, Eth,” I don’t hesitate to reciprocate. The camera is in quick, blurry motion as the phone is seemingly yanked from Ethan’s hand and is all of a sudden focused on Grayson’s face, instead.

“I love you more than he does,” Grayson professes and I laugh, my heart light from all the affection.

“I love you too, Gray. So much,” I say and he looks off screen, presumably at Ethan, wearing a smug smirk. I hear Ethan squawk something out in protest that gets drowned out by Grayson’s raucous laughter. When he looks back at me, his eyes are considerably softer, big, goofy grin still in place.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he says and I give a small wave before ending the call. God, I miss them.

——————

It’s been an hour and 56 minutes since that FaceTime call and to say that I’m chomping at the bits is an understatement. I rewind the show that I’ve been watching on my laptop, once again having been too distracted to pay attention to the plot.

I had figured that binging on a show while I waited for my twins to return would be a good pastime. It had worked for the first 45 minutes and then I was toast. I know that I’ll have to rewatch at least the last episode-and-a-half of the show that I’ve been binging. Was that the sound of a car pulling up? I violently push the space bar on my keyboard to pause the show before I detangle myself from the labyrinth of blankets that I had since swaddled myself in.

I gallop to the front door, but quickly think better of it as I hear a key unlocking it. It’s embarrassing enough that I had to admit defeat and call Ethan only four hours into he and Grayson’s filming, but it would be beyond reproach for them to find me waiting at the front door like an excited puppy. I turn on my heel and begin a hasty retreat, but I walk a total of four steps before I hear the door being flung open and shortly after, I’m being encased by a strong set of tanned arms.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I hear the distinct sound of Grayson’s voice in my ear as he pulls me flush against his hard torso, lips immediately finding a home between my chin and my shoulder and planting loud, smacking kisses on the side of my neck as he squeezes me tight. I giggle at the ticklish sensation and grab hold of each of his forearms which are cross-crossed over my torso. I enjoy his proximity for maybe a few seconds more before I hear Ethan voice his disdain.

“Bro, chill. I haven’t even gotten to see her yet!” he complains. And Grayson twirls us around to face Ethan, resting his chin smugly on my shoulder as he stares at his brother.

“There, now you’ve seen her,” he declares before preparing to spin us back around again. Ethan makes quick work of prying Grayson’s arms off of me and snatching me from his hold, pulling me into a hug, wrapping one big arm around my shoulders and the other around my waist as he holds me close. I instinctively latch onto him.

“He was hogging you all to himself,” Ethan complains close to my ear before dropping a sweet kiss to my forehead.

“You are so cheesy, dude,” Grayson says with disgust dripping from his words from somewhere nearby and my shoulders shake with silent laughter at their bickering. They know that their arguing never fails to leave me tickled and they often do it just to get a laugh or two out of me. It’s all in good jest.

“Whatever dude, look where she is,” Ethan retorts, nodding down to where I’m encased in his protective hold.

“Yeah, because you literally pulled her away from me, jackass,” comes Grayson’s deadpan response. I can’t help the laugh that escapes my parted lips at this and I look up at Ethan, who has a look of incredulity splashed across his pretty face. I reach out a hand to soothingly trace a few fingers along his rigid jawline.

“Eth,” I giggle, hoping that it conveys my willingness to sooth him. He looks down at me and the harshness of his demeanor diminishes on the spot.

“He’s being mean to me. He’s jealous that you like me more,” he declares and that sends me into another fit of flattered, embarrassing giggles, lightly pushing at his chest. I watch as a smile breaks out across his face, the satisfaction in getting me to laugh evident. If anyone else had used this childish attempt at flirting, I would’ve rolled my eyes at best. But Ethan somehow makes it work.

“Okay, time’s up,” I hear Grayson behind me before I feel a strong hand gently pry me out of Ethan’s grip before entwining his fingers with mine and walking us toward the kitchen. I look over my shoulder and give a pouty face to Ethan, who’s now staring daggers at the back of Grayson’s head. I love you I mouth and he’s quick to mouth it back before rolling his eyes and shuffling off in the direction of his room.

“E!” I call out to his retreating form, stopping Grayson and I in our tracks as I take a moment to worry about whether Ethan is genuinely ruffled. He turns to look at me and smiles.

“Just changing into some sweats, babe. Make sure Grayson doesn’t cook something disgusting, please!” He gives a cheesy, sarcastic smile that shows all of his teeth, clearly directing it at Grayson.

“When have I ever cooked anything disgusting, Ethan? You just don’t appreciate good food!” Grayson says in a booming voice a few decibels too high for being as close as he is to Ethan, but it’s something that I’ve grown more than accustomed to.

“Grayson, stop yelling,” is all Ethan says as he finally retreats into his room, closing the door behind him. My amusement from the exchange is clear upon my face as I turn to face Grayson once again.

“I’m not cooking him shit,” is all he says and I burst into laughter for the millionth time since the boys have come back home. He finishes guiding us into the kitchen and I perch myself on the counter top as he busies himself with gathering ingredients for whatever he’s about to cook. I take the opportunity to admire him while he isn’t looking; he’s donning a tight fitting white t-shirt that clings sinfully to his chiseled torso. He’s also wearing a pair of blue shorts that do wonders for his thick, inked thighs, which are gorgeously displayed given the rather short length of the material.

“Do you want a burrito bowl?” He asks over his shoulder and I nod before realizing that he can’t see me.

“Yes, please!” I affirm and he nods, continuing on his mission to prepare meals for us. He takes a moment to discard his shirt, flinging it somewhere in the direction of the pantry before busying himself once again and my mouth is damn near watering at the sight. His broad shoulders and strong back are on glorious display as he goes about making the most mundane tasks - oiling up a pan, turning the knob on the stove, sprinkling fucking salt - look sexy.

“Did I hear you say you’re making burrito bowls?” Ethan asks as he waltzes into the kitchen, also shirtless, with a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. And honestly, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve two handsome, shirtless, sculpted men who dote on me in my life. I really don’t, but I’m not complaining.

“Yeah, you want one?” Grayson asks casually over his shoulder, as if he and Ethan hadn’t been bickering moments prior and as if Grayson hadn’t explicitly declared that he wasn’t going to make Ethan any food. That’s just how he and Ethan are; their arguments all last for a grand total of five minutes, at most, before they’re back to being the best of friends.

“Yes please,” Ethan unintentionally mimics my earlier statement before walking over to where I’m sitting on the counter top and standing between my legs. He gathers me up into his warm, bare chest and lays his head on my shoulder. I rake my fingers through his soft curls without hesitation. “I’m so glad to be home. I missed you so fucking much today,” he mutters, but Grayson must hear him because he chimes in as well.

“I missed you, too. We’re never leaving you here while we go film again, holy shit. It was awful,” he emphasizes, shaking his head as he stirs something around in the pan before him. My heart swells to about 20 times its size as I listen to these big, strapping men spilling their guts about me, to me. And suddenly, Grayson’s standing too far away.

“Gray?” I call out quietly and he turns around to see my free hand that’s not raking through Ethan’s hair, beckoning him toward me. He gives me that lopsided grin that turns my insides to jelly before taking slow, calculated strides in my direction. He cradles my face with one hand and I latch onto his wrist as he leans in and peppers my face with kisses. I scrunch up my nose and accept his shower of affection with pure delight. On my other side, Ethan raises his head from my shoulder and my hand gently falls from his curls as he cups my face and begins showering me with kisses on that side of my face as well.

I let a few girlish giggles escape me as the boys continue their playful attack. “Grayson, the food?” I manage to breath out when the aroma coming from the stove begins to increase in intensity. He sighs and pulls his lips from me only to rest his forehead on my cheek, eyes closed.

“Fine,” he relents before begrudgingly returning to the stove. Meanwhile, Ethan’s attack continues before he’s throwing his arms around my shoulders and trailing his kisses downward, first a few near my mouth, several on my chin, and a few longer, more lingering ones on my neck before he buries his face there again and I resume raking my fingers through his hair again as if I had never stopped.

“Enjoy it while you can, E,” Grayson says without even looking back, seemingly aware of how Ethan moulded himself to me once again as soon as he stepped away. “When you run off to play Fortnite later, she’s all mine,” he states. And my stomach flips at the thought. My boys are gonna be the death of me and it’s not a bad way to go.

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marvelous-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Bracing For Impact

Summary: Tony gets a call late into the evening that Peter was involved in a car accident.

Whumptober Day Four: Human Shield

@whumptober2019

Link to read on Ao3

It was around six in the evening when the call came in. Tony was upstairs reading Morgan her bedtime story when Pepper came upstairs and stood in the doorway to their daughter’s room, her face ghostly pale.

Something was wrong.

Pepper was a tough woman and it took a lot to shake her up like this, especially with everything she’s been through in their relationship.

“Tony…” She began but paused, glancing over at Morgan in her bed, who was almost asleep. “May’s on the phone.”

Just from how she says it, Tony already knows that something happened.

Something bad.

Tony stands up from the edge of the bed and takes the cell phone she presses into his hands before going into their bedroom.

“May?” He asks.

“Tony,” May’s shaky voice comes from the other end. There’s talking in the background, with beeping noises and other different chaotic sounds. “I’m-are you sitting down?”

“Why should I be?” He questions, feeling his stomach twisting with worry.

“Tony… just… T-There was an accident. I’m-we’re at the hospital now-”

“Are you and Peter alright?” He quickly asks.

“N-No. I-I’m fine, but Peter… he’s hurt. We’re in the ER right now and the doctors are out back with him.”

Worry flows through him in an instant and he feels slightly lightheaded all of a sudden, his stomach dropping.

“Is he alright? What happened?”

“H-He was out with his friends and there was a truck… the brakes went on it and the driver couldn’t stop it. Peter jumped in front of it to save an older couple that were crossing the street. It clipped him… but the doctor said he thinks it’s minor injuries.”

Tony closes his eyes, relieved to hear that at least but the thought of Peter getting hit by a truck flashes through his mind, and it scares him.

“What hospital are you at?” He asks as he rushes over to the walk-in closet and grabs his jeans and his MIT sweatshirt.

“Queens Memorial.”

“Alright. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in…” He glances down at his watch for the time. “Thirty minutes. I’m going to take a suit. Did you call Happy?” He asks as he quickly swaps out his flannel pajama pants for his jeans and throws his hoodie over his t-shirt.

“Not yet. I wanted to call you first.”

“I’ll call him so you can worry about what’s going on at your end, alright? Keep me updated. Just hang in there, May. He’s a strong kid.”

“I know he is.”

“I’ll be there soon.” He promises.

Once they’re off the phone, Tony grabs the nano-tech housing unit from his nightstand before running out of the room as Pepper walks out of Morgan’s room, softly closing the door behind her. She looks to him worriedly, brows pulling together in concern.

“Peter’s in the ER right now at Queens Memorial. I’m going to call Happy and meet him there.” He quickly explains as he attaches the unit to the center of his chest.

“Call me when you hear anything.”

“I will.” He says, giving her a quick kiss before he’s running down the stairs.

Once he’s out the door, he slams his fingers to the housing unit, activating the nanites. He steps off the last step on the front porch when the suit is fully formed around him and takes off into the sky.

He doesn't think he’s ever pushed a suit this hard before.

…….

Tony arrives at the hospital and lands on the sidewalk outside, startling a few bystanders in the process, and disengages the nanotech that crawl back into the housing unit. He rushes through the ER doors and walks over to the desk, ignoring the shocked look on the receptionist’s face when she recognizes him. He thankfully has no trouble being allowed to see the kid, with being his second emergency contact.

“Room 314A , right through those doors, past the nurses station and take a left down the hallway and it’ll be right there.” The receptionist tells him with a polite smile.

“Thank you.” He tells her before he takes off in that direction.

A mixture of fear, dread and worry gnaws away at him, his stomach coiled like a tight spring, as he walks down the cold, too white hallway as he passes by hospital room after hospital room, eyes scanning the numbers painted on the walls.

310A

312A

314A

Tony stops at the closed door, unable to really see anything through the skinny rectangular window with how dim the lighting is in the room. His hand pauses on the doorknob for a moment and he closes his eyes, praying that his kid was alright. He had to be. If he wasn’t… he didn’t know what he was going to do.

Tony breathes in deeply, grounding himself, before he turns the knob, the door opening with a soft click. His eyes immediately land on Peter, who was lying on the hospital bed with multiple beeping machines hooked up to him and a nasal cannula under his nose, giving him oxygen. His eyes were closed, seeming to be asleep.

Hopefully not unconscious.

May turns around in her chair that’s situated at Peter’s bedside, and she softly smiles at him as she stands up. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He says as he steps further into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Tony walks over to her and they both hug, May holding on a little tighter.

“Thank you for coming so quickly.” Her voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Of course. I called Happy after I got off the phone with you, he should be here soon.” He tells her as they pull away.

“Thank you.” She sadly smiles.

Tony’s eyes fall on Peter once again, and now that he was standing closer to him, Tony was able to see just how banged up the poor kid was. He was pale, the dark blue and purple bruises littered on his face stood out more, along with all of the cuts and scrapes.

“He’s alright… in a pain because I don’t think the medicine they’re giving him is doing anything. But he managed to fall asleep a while ago.”

Of course the pain meds weren’t working on Peter with his enhanced metabolism. They probably weren’t even making a dent in the amount of pain the poor kid was in, so he had no other choice but to conk out to escape it.

“I called Dr. Cho on my way over and she’s on her way to the Compound now. I’ll have him transported there if he’s alright to move when he wakes up. I don’t really feel comfortable with him being here if the nurses notice he’s healing faster than usual.” Tony softly says as he goes over to the bed and sits down on the edge, reaching a hand out to brush back a loose strand of curls from Peter’s forehead.

They’re both silent for a few moments, the beeping heart monitor filling the silence of the room. Peter’s face scrunches up in his sleep and he turns his head to the side, unconsciously leaning into Tony’s hand that’s still carding through his curls.

“When you called me… I got so scared.” Tony quietly admits, eyes never leaving his kid. “I was afraid that it was worse, that he was…” He stops and closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“I’m sorry, I know my phone call didn’t help. I wasn’t the calmest . I just saw him on the stretcher and… I didn’t know what to think either.”

Tony nodded in understanding as he looked at Peter, breathing out a laugh through his nose as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You hear that? You’re making us both grey with getting into trouble so much.” He softly says as he continues to run his hand through Peter’s curls.

Happy arrives after a few minutes, and Tony sends May off with him to get some coffee and something to eat since she hasn’t had anything to eat. Tony settles down into the chair at the side of the bed and takes Peter’s limp hand in his own. It’s warm, and he can feel the slightest occasional twitch of fingers against his palm.

Tony slumps back against the chair, almost lightheaded with relief that Peter was okay. Injured, yes… but alive.

…….

It’s into the early morning hours, around one-thirty, when Peter stirs. May is sound asleep in the extra chair a nurse had brought in a few hours ago when she came to check in on Peter, while Tony reads off his phone in his own chair.

Tony glances up from the paragraph he’s reading when a small groan comes from the bed. He put his phone down on the end table beside him and scooted forward in his seat as he reached a hand out, fingers carding through the kid’s hair. He watches as the teen’s brows pull together, face scrunching up a bit.

“Peter, you with me, bud?” Tony softly says as he cups the right side of his face and slowly rubs his thumb over the kid’s cheekbone.

Peter’s head slowly rolls in his direction as his eyes squint open, taking a few seconds before they land on Tony.

“There he is.” Tony says with a soft smile.

“Mmh…” Peter murmurs, a small, lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hey.”

“How’re you feeling? Honest answers only.”

Peter closes his eyes once again, brows pulling together more. “Mmh… not s’ great.”

“No? You in pain?” Tony asks as concern and worry flood through him.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll try to see if I can get a nurse to raise your pain meds.” Tony tells him as he lifts his hand back to the kid’s hair, running his fingers through it once again. It’s one of his secret weapons with trying to get the kid to relax or fall asleep and it’s worked every time whenever he does it. “Do you know where you are?”

“H’pital?” Peter sleepily mumbles.

“Yeah. Do you remember what happened?”

“Mmmh… a truck… didn’t stop in time.”

Tony pushes away the horrifying image of Peter lying on the ground after getting hit, bloody and bruised. He feels for the kid’s poor friends that had to watch it all happen, reminding himself to ask the kid to invite them to visit him once he was all settled in back at the Compound.

“Yeah. But you’re going to be just fine, buddy. You’ll be up and running in no time.” Tony says, more to himself than Peter, for the added peace of mind.

“Mhmm…” Peter hummus, his head tilting to the side a bit as he starts to drift off.

Tony softly smiles down at him as he continues running his hand through the kid’s hair. It doesn’t take long before he’s sound asleep once more.

It had been a close call today.

Too close.

If Peter didn’t have his powers… he would’ve been killed today. Tony read the police report that had been filed an hour ago, with FRIDAY’s help, and found out that the truck had been going sixty-five miles an hour. Sixty-five. That would have killed a person right then and there. And Peter knew that, too. That was why he jumped in and saved that couple before they got hit.

Tony closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose, pausing his hand on the kid’s head. He stood up, ignoring his knees clicking that protested against the movement, and pressed a kiss to Peter’s temple. He pushed his hair into the teen’s hair and breathed in the scent of vanilla shampoo. Tony pressed another kiss to his head, his lips lingering for a few extra seconds.

“I love you… so much, Pete.” He whispered as he pulled back and watched his sleeping kid’s face.

…….

The next morning, Peter was allowed to be transferred to the Compound, where Dr. Cho was able to give him the proper dosage of pain medication, and come to find out, the kid was in a lot of pain with his broken arm and four fractured ribs, plus a mild concussion. Peter was out like a light after a few minutes once the medication was administered through an IV, falling into a peaceful, painless sleep.

After a few days of strict bedrest, Morgan frequently visited Peter down in the medbay, the two of them watching a bunch of Dicney movies together while eating fun snacks and juice pops, enjoying eachother’s company. May, Tony, and Pepper all fused over him, of course, making sure he was comfortable and getting him food or anything else he wanted while he rested, and it was obvious the kid wasn’t too thrilled with all of the mother-hening.

Peter’s friends came to visit after a few days when he was feeling better, Ned and MJ, who Tony hasn’t bet before. He’s met Ned quite a few times, yet the teen was always so star-struck to see him and be at the Compound. But to Tony’s surprise, it seemed as though Peter and MJ were close. Pretty close. But Tony held back his teasing for the time being. He’d ask Peter about it when he was feeling better.

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fixxofvixx · 5 years ago

Text

BLOODRIGHT - Taekwoon AU - Chapter Twelve

Hello!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know some of you have been waiting for a while Haha so I have prepared a loooooong chapter for you!!! I hope you it enjoy it!!!

Please let me know what you think!!!! 💖

🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

Suddenly, Taekwoon straightened in his seat.

“Shit.” He sped the car up and you looked around for potential threats.

“What is it?”

“We’re being followed.”

———————–

You spun around in your seat and saw a black car similar to Taekwoon’s but smaller trailing behind.

“Maybe it’s just someone going on the same road.”

“There’s a vampire driving. That’s too much of a coincidence for me. You okay with me going faster?”

“I’m fine, do what you need to. I don’t fancy getting bit right now.”

“They can’t bite you, only I can. The contract protects you from that. But they can do many, many other things that I’m sure you wouldn’t like. So, what do you say we lose them?”

You turned back to Taekwoon to see a deadly smirk on his face. You smiled at him.

“Go for it.”

Almost immediately, Taekwoon accelerated. The force pushed your body into the seat. The scenery became a blur and you kept your gaze in front so you wouldn’t get dizzy. Looking in the rearview mirror, you saw the car behind you speed up as well.

“Do we have enough gas to get there?”

“The car is electric so we should be fine. Once we make it to the outskirts of my parent’s estate they can’t follow anymore. At th–” Taekwoon’s words were cut short when you both heard gunshots.

“They’re shooting at us?!” You let out a short scream as you heard more shots.

“You….they’re shooting at you. Bullets will do nothing to me. Keep your head down.” Taekwoon pushed your head down as far as it could go as he sped up even more.

“Are they that desperate to kill me?!”

“If they kill you, then they essentially kill me. That’s what they’re aiming for.” Taekwoon turned a sharp curve and you could feel the car sliding on the asphalt.

You lowered your body as much as you could but still staying in the seat. You couldn’t see where you were going. You had never had motion sickness but the movement of the car and the thought of what those other vampires could do was starting to change that. A few more shots rang out and suddenly the car jerked violently. You screamed and held on to the car. Thankfully, Tarkwoon handled the car well so it didn’t flip over .

“Dammit!”

You felt the car shaking and then it started to slow down.

“Taekwoon?!”

“It’s okay. Just hang on. They shot out one of the tires.” Finally the car slowed to a stop but you were afraid to lift your head. You only sat there shaking in your seat.

The car was deathly silent until you heard Taekwoon pick up his phone and call his mother. He told her what happened and she promised to send help. Taekwoon grabbed your hand and you flinched.

“Just stay in the car. Don’t get out, no matter what. They wont be able to get in.”

“You’re going to stay in here too, right?” Taekwoon didn’t answer you and you wrapped your hand around his arm, raising up slightly. “You’re not going out there!”

“I’ll get get rid of them and fix the tire. Then we can keep going.”

“But how many of them are there?”

“You’re doubting my abilities?”

“No, but……”

“I promise I will be fine. Just stay inside, okay?” Knowing you couldn’t change his mind, you just nodded. You peeked over the top of the seat to see four vampires crawl out of the car.

With lightning speed, Taekwoon took off out of the car, a second later you heard the doors lock. He immediately aimed for the vampires who were ready for him. He didn’t wait for them to attack first. He slammed his fist into the first vampire’s jaw, sending him flying backwards. He advanced to the next and then to the next. There were four vampires surrounding Taekwoon. One would try to come near the car but Taekwoon would quickly cut off his path.

The fight kept going in circles. Taekwoon would advance on one vampire and try to take his head off but the other four would quickly come to his aid. At some points their movements were so fast, you couldn’t tell what was happening.

Suddenly, one of the vampires landed a kick to Taekwoon’s chest and launched him backwards. You gasped as he landed awkwardly on a boulder on the side of the road. You waited but he didn’t move. The vampires were laughing and congratulating the one who’d kicked Taekwoon. Together, they all advanced on him. They were going to kill him. Your heart was beating rapidly in your ears.

You saw Taekwoon was starting to move but he needed more time to recover. You needed to do something. You looked at the empty driver’s seat and then the steering wheel. Without a moment’s hesitation, you crawled over the center console and sat in the driver’s seat. Looking behind you, you could see three of the four vampires directly behind the car. You put your left foot on the brake and your right food on the gas pedal. You took a deep breath and in one fluid movement, you threw the car into reverse, pressed the gas pedal as hard as you could and released your foot off the brake. The car lurched and sped towards the distracted vampires. In a matter of a couple of seconds, the back of the car slammed into the vampires. The impact sent them several yards backwards. However, because of their strength, the car hit them as if it had hit a brick wall.

Your body sprang forward and your head hit the steering wheel. Luckily you didn’t pass out but your vision went blurry and pain erupted throughout your whole body. You took deep breaths and held onto the steering wheel. You could hear the vampires screaming and yelling at each other but then it was quiet.

You were still holding onto the wheel when you heard the car doors unlock. The door opened quickly and then you could see Taekwoon.

“Did we win?” You smiled at him as he gently pulled you away from the steering wheel. Taekwoon, however, wasn’t smiling. His lips were set in a straight line and his bright red eyes were angry.

“What were you thinking doing that?! You could have been killed!”

“I was trying to help. They kicked you and you landed on that boulder and you weren’t moving.” Tears welled up in your eyes as the reality of the situation hit you. “I didn’t know what to do and I was trying to buy you some time to recover and…..and….”

“Alright, I know. It’s okay. I’m sorry I yelled.” His fingers wiped away the tears that had fallen and he smoothed his hand over your cheeks. “I know you wanted to help. And you did. I just don’t like seeing you hurt. You did a good job.”

He gathered you into his arms and you curled both of your arms around one of his. He stiffened just as you heard another car approach. You raised your head to see a sleek black SUV stop beside a headless vampire. Your arms tightened around Taekwoon, afraid of what what coming. Once the driver got out, Taekwoon relaxed.

“It’s alright. They work for my parents. We’ll take care of the bodies and fix the tire. We’re not far from my parent’s estate. We’ll be there soon.” Taekwoon picked you up and circled around the car with you. He put you back in the passenger’s seat and went to help the others.

After about an hour, Taekwoon was once again in the driver’s seat following the SUV. Your head was aching and all you wanted to do was sleep. Your head leaned against the car glass but you jumped when Taekwoon grabbed your hand.

“Don’t sleep. You hit your head so you need to stay awake. Once we get to my parent’s home, we’ll send for a doctor to make sure everything is okay. Then I promise you can sleep.”

You solemnly nodded your head. You were still nervous about meeting Taekwoon’s parents but the aching in your head prevented you from thinking about it too much.

“Did I damage the car when I hit the vampires? It felt like the car had hit a solid brick wall.”

“Just a couple of vampire-sized dents,” he laughed, “but nothing that can’t be fixed. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry. It was the only thing I could think of.”

“I told you, it’s nothing to worry about. You did good. Although, next time, wear a seat belt first. I’m surprised you didn’t fly out of the seat.”

“It felt like I almost did. I–” You stopped when two massive gates came into view. Dusk was approaching now and the scene before you looked straight out of a horror moving. Fog was settling in around the gates and hung low to the ground.

“Looks creepy, doesn’t it?” Taekwoon voice sounded amused and somewhat proud.

“That’s a bit of an understatement.” The long winding road that lay after the gates was not much better. You felt as if every movie creature that had ever been created was just waiting around one of the many curves that Taekwoon took.

“It looks less so during the day. But, I love how it looks at night.”

Of course, he would.

Finally, Taekwoon turned one last curve and a massive mansion stood tall before you. You could almost guarantee that Taekwoon’s house could fit inside three times over.

“My goodness….”

Taekwoon laughed as he pulled the car up to the front of the house. As soon as the car was in park, at least five workers came out of the house ready to assist. The bowed to Taekwoon as he came out of the car. One of the workers opened your door and you jumped.

“I’ll take care of Y/N, would you please take the box in the back seat to my mother? We will also need a doctor to look at Y/N.” Taekwoon came to your side and held out his hand for you to take. You readily accepted it and he gently pulled you out of the car. He tried to pick you up but you put a hand on his chest to stop him. You didn’t need any more embarrassment than what you had now.

“A doctor? Why, what happened?!”

“I told you we were followed, Mother. I was in a bit of trouble and Y/N slammed into the vampires with the car but she hit her head.”

You heard nothing Taekwoon said after he said ‘mother’. Your hands immediately started to shake and your throat went dry. Nonetheless, you felt the need to make your greetings.

“Hello, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You bowed but a wave of dizziness caught you off guard and you leaned into Taekwoon.

“Dammit.” Taekwoon let out a frustrated sigh and then leaned down and hauled you into his arms. You let out a squeak at his rapid actions before he sped into the house. You closed your eyes against the speeding scenery. He stopped right outside an elaborate door before opening it to reveal a gorgeous bedroom. He placed you on the bed against the oversized pillows and sat down beside you.

Seconds later, his mother gracefully glided into the room. If you didn’t see her feet actually taking steps you would have thought that she was floating. You started to move from the bed but Taekwoon’s arm shot out and his hand went to your stomach, effectively anchoring you to the bed. You tried to remove it but he sent you a glare that warned you to stay put.

“It’s alright, Y/N, you can just stay right there.” His mother’s voice was much like Taekwoon’s only in feminine form. It sounded like a soothing melody of words that put your fears at ease. “We’ll have a doctor here soon to take a look.”

“I’m sure it’s okay. You don’t need to go to any trouble.”

“We should make sure.” Taekwoon spoke firmly but you could tell he was concerned. “Your still recovering from me feeding and you hit your head pretty hard.”

You couldn’t say no to the look in his eyes. Although you hated being the center of attention, you wanted to help lessen at least some of the many concerns he had. You nodded and placed your hand over his as it still lay splayed over your stomach.

“Well, while we are waiting for the doctor. How about we talk about a few things?” Taekwoon’s mother’s face wore a slight grin set under knowing eyes. She stared at Taekwoon who seemed uncomfortable with the new conversation.

“Like what, Mother?

"You think I can’t hear that? Your whole body is humming.”

“Mother….”

She laughed at Taekwoon’s reaction. You were fascinated watching the exchange.

“Humming?” Taekwoon’s hand twitched under yours when you spoke.

“Hmm, yes, humming. I am a little curious about what else has developed besides you becoming Taekwoon’s donor.”

Your eyes widened just as Taekwoon all but jumped off the bed and grabbed his mother’s hand.

“Mother, I need to talk to you.” In an instant, they both sped out of the room, leaving you confused.

Taekwoon’s POV

Taekwoon pulled his mother away from his room until he was sure that you were out of earshot. When he stopped, he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. His mother started laughing.

“Mother, this is not a laughing matter!”

“Oh, my dear Taekwoonie, why are you so shy, hmm?”

“I’m not shy….and don’t call me that.”

“Right,” she cleared her throat but still held a semblance of a smile, “tell me, oh strong and noble Prince Taekwoon. What seems to be ailing you?”

“Mom!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, go on.”

“I’m just asking that you go easy with Y/N. Don’t scare her away.”

“I’m not scary!”

“To her, you are. Not because you’re a vampire but because you’re my mother. Didn’t you hear her heartbeat?”

“I heard it when you touched her.”

“Oh my god,” Taekwoon sighed loudly and hit his head lightly on the wall next to him.

“Relax, Taekwoon, I won’t do anything. You know I care about you. I can see that you like her. Your whole body gravitates towards her whether you know it or not. And she likes you. How long has it been?”

“This morning…..well officially. She has no idea how long I….”

“How long you’ve liked her?”

Taekwoon silently nodded his head. His mother put a hand on his shoulder.

“She likes you.”

“It wasn’t long ago that she was terrified of me. You have no idea how much that killed me. To see the fear in her eyes when I would come near her.”

“She doesn’t have that now. She trusts you. She saved your life today. That should tell you how much she cares.”

“I know but I can’t help but worry that something will scare her again and she’ll back away from me again.”

“I can’t promise that she won’t be scared again. Our world is a dangerous one. But I have a feeling that if anything does scare her…..she’ll run TO you, not FROM you.”

Taekwoon smiled at the thought and looked back down the hall towards his room where he’d left you.

“Go on. We can talk later. She’s in a strange house and she probably doesn’t want to be alone.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He started to walk away before she stopped him.

“Shall I prepare a room for her or will you be keeping her trapped in yours?”

A slow smile spread across Taekwoon’s face. He looked back at his mother with mischief in his eyes. “I thought you said there were no empty rooms available?”

“In a house with over 100 rooms? Yeah, sure, all filled up.” She rolled her eyes at her son’s antics. She knew her son was a gentleman as she had raised him as such. She also knew how desperate he was to keep you close and safe. Taekwoon kissed his mother’s cheek and ran back to his room to find you coming out of his bathroom.

Y/N POV

As soon as you walked out of the bathroom door, Taekwoon came in looking wildly around for you. The moment he saw you, he visibly relaxed.

“I’m pretty sure that bathroom is bigger than my old apartment.” You moved back to the bed and say down. Taekwoon stood in front of you. “So does your Mother think I’m a weirdo yet?”

“Of course not, she likes you. I think you’ll find that she’s very easy to get along with. She nothing like Khan’s mother, I assure you.”

“I don’t think anyone could be like that woman. She’s a completely different species.”

Taekwoon laughed and sat down beside you.

“So, will I be staying in this room?” He nodded so you continued. “I assumed since you brought me here. Where is your room?”

“You’re sitting in it.”

“This is your room?! Why did you bring me here then?”

“Because you’re going to stay in here…….with me.”

“Taekwoon, I can’t do that! Your mother��.”

“Already knows. You know I don’t sleep so the bed is all yours. I just want to be able to watch over you since we aren’t in my home right now. I don’t really trust anyone besides my parents. I need you close.” He looked at you with pleading eyes but your heart was still beating rapidly. Stay in his room WITH him?? But he was right about not being able to trust anyone. At this point you really only trusted Taekwoon.

“Fine…”

A huge smile erupted over Taekwoon’s face and he wrapped his arms around you. The feeling of his arms securing you to his side gave you a wonderful, content feeling. You settled into him, placing your head on his chest. He smoothed his hand down the back of your head and you suddenly wanted to sleep again.

A knock came from the door and you jump out of Taekwoon’s arms, earning a sharp pain in your head. You grabbed the side of your head and gasped.

“Don’t move fast. That’s probably the doctor.”

After about an hour and half with an obviously nervous and scared doctor, you were given a clean bill of health. There was no concussion, thankfully, just badly bruised and sore. The doctor left in a hurry and you could probably guess how fast he ran home. Taekwoon was apparently amused.

“You think he was nervous?” Taekwoon laughed at his own joke as you went to the window to look out at the massive spanse of trees.

“Wouldn’t you be in a mansion full of vampires?”

“Are you?”

“Not if you’re here.” You responded quietly, a bit embarrassed to admit that you needed him to feel safe.

“My parents will protect you, too. So, don’t worry.” Taekwoon’s arm came around your shoulders and pulled you back against him. He leaned down and placed a kiss over the marks from his teeth. His other arm came around your waist and your breath hitched. You never thought you would let another man hold you like this, much less a vampire. But the feeling was pleasant now and you felt happy. He placed another kiss just below your jaw, over the pulse currently racing under your skin. You leaned your head backwards onto his chest and smiled.

Another knock came from the door and your mood fell instantly. You didn’t want to move. You wanted to stand there with Taekwoon for just a bit longer. Taekwoon released you and went to the door. A man carrying a large tray bowed to Taekwoon and spoke so low that you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Taekwoon took the tray from him and bowed in return.

“My mother had some food made for you.”

“Really?” You hadn’t thought about it while everything was happening but, now you were hungry. Taekwoon placed the tray on the bed and removed the cover. Enough food for four grown adults sat on the tray.

“How am I supposed to eat all of this?! There’s so much!” You chuckled as you climbed onto the bed to take a closer look.

“She just had a variety of things made, I’m sure. My mother likes to take care of people.”

“So you get that from her?”

“Not necessarily. She likes taking care of people in general. I like taking care of you.” His words made your cheeks turn to fire and you pretended to be exclusively interested in the food.

You ate what you could but there was no way you could finish it all. You both decided to take the tray back so Taekwoon could show you more of the house. After placing everything in the kitchen, Taekwoon grabbed your hand and took you to the gardens in the back. It was at least three times as big as the one Taekwoon had at his home. From what you had seen of this house, you could see that Taekwoon made an effort to have it look the same.

“Did you grow up here?”

“Yeah, the sitting Kings and Queens have always lived here.” He walked with you behind him until he reached a large bench settled among what seemed like thousands of roses. He sat down and pulled you to sit next to him. “When I become King, I will live here too….”

He tightened his hold on you and you understood what he couldn’t say so you did it for him.

“With me.”

He didn’t respond with words. Turning your body towards himself, he kissed you quickly. It was a short kiss and then he leaned away from you. He smiled at you and you could see how happy he was at your acceptance to stay with him. You started to say something but he kissed you again. This time, his lips stayed on yours. His hand curled around the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss. You could feel his tongue glide along your lips and it sent tingles down your back. After a moment you heard someone clearing their throat and you jerked away from Taekwoon as if he was on fire. You were so embarrassed that you could only put your head down.

“Hello, Father.”

#Taekwoon fic #vampire taekwoon #vampire leo #leo fix #vixx fanfic #vampire #taekwoon #leo

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hopeishappinessff · 6 years ago

Text

Holding Onto Hope: Chapter 54

Chris

There was something moist against the side of my face, probably drool. My head was pounding to the tune of what felt like a migraine. My body ached like I had an incurable strand of the flu. There was a throbbing pain in the side of my neck as if someone tried to break it. My eyes opened into slits and shut right back because night had turned to day and the light punched me dead in the face.

I made up my mind… somebody beat my ass and left me stranded on a mattress in an alley to die. That was the only logical answer to why I felt like literal shit laying on the softest surface. If someone stuck a pistol in my face and demanded that I tell them where I was and what happened to me, I’d be dead in a second. I really had no clue where the hell I was, how I got here, and why I felt this way… I’d never felt this way in my life.

Something wasn’t right though. I could feel my stomach contracting in and out of queasy knots… I was deathly afraid to move. As I inhaled slowly through my nose, not even air was agreeing with my stomach right now. Licking my dry as the Sahara Desert lips, I struggled to swallow and that was it… that was the icing on top of the cake. I was going to throw up.

It was now or never… mind over matter… all pain no gain… I needed to get to a bathroom, now! Bolting upright from the side of the bed that once cradled me into a numbing slumber, I blindly recalled my surroundings and moved to the right side of the room. There was a familiar door situated there and once I pushed through it, I silently thanked God that it was indeed a bathroom. I hurled my body across the small space and landed on my knees in front of the open seat in just the nick of time.

Everything I’d ever eaten from the day I was born flew like hot searing lava from my mouth. The vomit plus the excessive liquor I’d ingested just hours ago made my eyes water to the point that I was literally crying. God, I could only imagine how much of a hot mess I looked like right now. I continued to puke for what felt like hours, praying that no one would come bustling through the wide-open door, but with just my luck… I heard footsteps entering the room. I coughed, relieving my throat of a few small chunks that left me feeling like I had a sore throat, then quickly flushed the toilet because I was too embarrassed for anyone to see the revolting sight. Sniffling nonstop, I wiped at the corners of my eyes to rid myself of my vomit induced tears just as Hope waddled around the corner. I wanted to smile at the picture-perfect sight of her, standing there with a hand wedged against her widened hip… but by the time my eyes landed on hers, I was almost stunned by the peeved expression on her face.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted, quickly attempting to explain why I was a blundering ball of mess on her bathroom floor, “I got way too carried away last night and now I have the world’s worst hangover…”

“Your phone has been ringing nonstop all morning,” Her face held not one hint of humor as she tossed the phone down on the floor in front of me, “You might want to answer it. That number just won’t seem to stop calling… and texting.”

With furrowed brows of confusion, I glanced down at my ringing phone and frowned at the unknown number flashing on the screen.

“I don’t know who this is.” I muttered, evidently loud enough for her to hear.

“Check your text messages. I’m sure you know exactly who it is.” And with that, she turned and stomped her way back out of the bathroom and the bedroom altogether. Staring out after her, my eyes connected with her side of the bed and how perfectly untouched it looked, as if she’d gotten up sometime in the night and never returned.

My mind drifted back to what she’d said on her way out and I quickly looked back down at the phone just as it stopped ringing. Snatching it up from the floor, my thumbs scrolled frantically from screen to screen until I reached my messages and suddenly my heart stopped, my next breath got lost somewhere on the way up, and my entire body grew hot.

From: 804-732-1001

3:32 AM

Hi handsome, this is ur new admirer… Rose ;-)

From: 804-732-1001

3:37 AM

Hope u made it home ok. Miss ur sexy self already

From: 804-732-1001

3:45 AM

Ur friend was a cock blocker at the strip, don’t u think?? We could have had so much more fun!

From: 804-732-1001

4:01 AM

Until we meet again, handsome…

There were a few more messages following that one, but I stopped abruptly after scrolling past a picture of her exposed breasts and the three piercings in the valley between them. And to think my drunk ass really thought Hope sent me a picture of her breasts last night… no, it was this girl and she was a fucking lunatic! Though I still felt queasy as fuck, I got my ass up from that hard floor as fast as I could, leaned over into the sink to swish a bit of water around in my mouth, then I bolted back out of the bathroom. The migraine blazing through my head had me feeling like I would pass out at any minute, but I didn’t care about that… I needed to get to Hope, now.

I heard commotion in the lower level of the house and I flew down the stairs two at a time then raced around the corner into the den. The boys were all lounging in there, Dontay and Rashad included, but I didn’t care about them either… where was Hope?

“Where did Sy’Diyah go?” I blurted.

“The kitchen.” One of them said. I think whoever it was went on to say something else, and I may have caught the tail end of a question pertaining to Rose’s crazy ass, but I couldn’t give a fuck about that right now… my relationship was potentially over at this very moment.

I suppose I should have taken a bit more time upstairs to really consider how I was going to handle this situation. Or maybe I should have stuck around longer in the den to hear exactly whatever it was that whoever asked me. Because now I was standing in the doorway of the kitchen with four different pairs of eyes glaring at me and I immediately felt like a microscopic object beneath a lens from their cold, hard stares. It looked like the girls were all happily working together to fix up a nice breakfast, but the moment I set foot in their cook space that all came to a screeching halt.

“Sy, can I talk to you for a second?” I mumbled bashfully, keeping my eyes on her even as the other three stared at me like I had a disease.

“I actually think you should probably go home and get some rest, Chris.” That stung… she was the only one who ever called me Charlie and I loved it… I loved the intimacy behind it and I loved the way it sounded coming from her lips. Chris… sounded so basic and like I was in trouble.

“Please let me just… let me talk to you for only a second Hope.” I eased a bit closer to her, though she kept her back to me as she continued to dice a few tomatoes on a cutting board. She sighed and dropped her head back, turning only half an inch to barely face me “Just go home… please.”

“Hope…”

“So ya’ll nigga’s really met some hoes at the club last night? And brought they nasty asses right in that section with ya’ll, huh? Fucking trifling as fuck…” Tameka said, surprisingly calm. I glanced at her briefly, but quickly returned my stare to Hope who’d turned completely to face me.

“Then have the audacity to bring that fuck ass nigga in this house, knowing he was on some hoe ass shit too! Ya’ll ain’t shit, I swear yall ain’t shit. Got a whole baby mama cooped up in the house waiting for your dirty ass to come home and for what… you already found your nut for the night at the club. You ain’t shit Chris and neither is that fuck nigga Kendrick!” Tameka started out fairly calm, stalking toward me slowly with a sharp tipped index finger aimed at me. By the time she reached the end of her rant, she was screaming and damn near running at me and it took Destani and Nalay to hold her back.

“Tameka, that’s enough!” Hope hollered, shutting down the whole charade before it could progress even further, “Can you guys just take her outside to cool off for a minute?”

The girls both did as she asked, but not without Destani sending daggers my way like I’d done something wrong to her… and to my knowledge, I hadn’t done a thing wrong to anyone. Hope waited until the back door shut before turning her attention back to me with a frustrated sigh.

“I don’t want to deal with this right now Chris. I just want you to go home and let me clear my head before you try to explain whatever mess you made last night…”

“I didn’t make a mess last night Hope. I’m not leaving here until you hear me out because I did nothing wrong. Just listen…”

“I don’t want to listen because there is nothing to hear. You have nothing to say to me right now. There should be no reason at all for some random girl to be blowing up your phone, sending you pictures of her breasts at four in the morning. There is no way you can explain that to me.”

I was standing close to the refrigerator at this point and because of that, it became my target within an instant… I could feel my right fist curling into a tight ball and before I could think back to any of my therapy techniques to get myself calm, my fist went flying.

“Just fucking listen to me!” I roared. I felt the rage building like a slow fire in my chest. I hadn’t felt it in so long thanks to months at a mental institution and medication to suppress it… it almost felt, good. Adrenaline also pumped so fiercely through my veins that I could no longer feel a migraine, or the body aches from a long night out… or my fist that’d just slammed into the refrigerator door. Glancing at the stainless-steel door, I froze at the sight of a visible dent in it. There was a whole dent in the refrigerator door… what the fuck was I thinking?

My wide-eyed stare fixed back onto Hope who was now cowering away from me near the counter close to the refrigerator. God… what had I done? I punched that got damn door and she was standing that close to it all along? This was… horrible. I felt like a fucking monster.

“Hope… I’m sorry…” I started to whisper and move closer to her… until she pushed her right hand out toward me… the hand that still held the knife she’d been using earlier.

“Don’t… just don’t. You need to leave, now.”

I could hear feet shuffling behind me… the boys had come to hem me up and drag me out of here. This is how it always goes, right? I make a fucking fool of myself by threatening my girlfriend. Allow my inner demon to unleash itself on the wrong victim, then I’m left to get hauled off like a criminal. That’s exactly what I deserved though. There should have been no reason for her to stand there with tears quietly trickling down her rosy cheeks, staring back at me in utter disbelief and disappointment. There should have been no reason for the fear that glazed over in her eyes… but there was a reason. Me…

“Hey man, what the fuck is going on?” Dontay was the first to reach the scene and he quickly snatched me up by my left arm and I let him. Clearly this was a volatile situation… Hope was still standing there with the knife pointed at me and her left hand was nestled protectively against her belly. My baby… how the fuck could I do this?

“God…” I muttered pathetically. Before any of them had the chance to round me up and ship me off to my mom’s house, I gently tugged my arm out of Dontay’s grasp, then quickly excused myself and rushed past them all and out the front door. What had I done?

Hope

I didn’t understand what had happened. Didn’t understand why it happened. Didn’t understand how he snapped… but he did. He charged right at me and only feet away from where I stood, he unleashed the power of an army of men onto a door that was so close I could feel the wind from his fist when he threw the punch. He took literally all ten steps back right at that precise moment. He was right back at square one. My heart shattered at the thought, I dropped the knife onto the counter, and broke down right there in the middle of the kitchen. To my surprise, Rashad was the first to rush forward to catch me before my knees completely gave out and he held onto me. He gripped me tight and stood there as I cried a river all over the front of his shirt.

The boys all crowded around like my protective saviors and I cried even harder… it never failed to amaze me just how much they cared. They were all like brothers to me and it truly warmed my heart to witness something as powerful as the circle of support they formed around me. I stood there crying with them huddled around for a while and by the time my tears slowed down to soft whimpers, the girls had reemerged from the back patio.

“Babe, what’s wrong? What happened?” Destani burst through the door and practically snatched me right out of Rashad’s grasp, “What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. She just got a little worked up.” He explained, for the first time in over a year addressing her directly. I could feel her body tensing against me as she held me close to her like the overprotective friend she was. She clearly wasn’t expecting a direct response from him, but she didn’t let that show on her face.

She quickly schooled her features and sent a strong scowl his way “Where did Chris go?”

The thickest layer of silence washed over the kitchen. No one uttered a word and for that I was thankful. Lifting my head from Destani’s shoulder, I glanced at Rashad for a moment and conspicuously peered at each of the boys for a brief second before turning to her.

“He had to go home.” And I left it at that. This one would have to stay between the boys and I for now. I didn’t need any additional drama between the girls and Chris… I didn’t want this to escalate any further than it already had.

I wasn’t sure if Destani bought my lie or not, but she didn’t mutter another word… perhaps because Rashad was in such close proximity and he’d just spoken to her, something she wasn’t at all prepared for.

She stayed quiet even as I pulled away from her and turned to the boys as I wiped up the remaining remnants of my tears “We’re going to finish up breakfast now. You guys can head on back to the den and we’ll let you know when everything is ready.”

They each seemed to be fairly hesitant to walk away. They lingered there, staring at me as if I would fall right apart if they ventured too far away. It wasn’t until I cracked a reassuring smile to not only let them know that I was indeed alright, but to also thank them for coming to my rescue before they finally exited the kitchen one by one.

“What was that about?” Nalay asked after a few awkward moments of silence.

“Nothing,” I blurted quickly, “Everything is fine.”

We got back to work on the breakfast I’d promised the boys, me being the first to get back to my work station. The girls all followed suit and of course I could feel a piercing stare from the other side of the room. I knew it was Destani. She was looking for answers because clearly something had just gone very wrong. But I didn’t have anything for her. At some point I needed to learn how to manage my relationship all by myself without running off to my friends searching for advice. Lord knows I loved them all as if they were my own sisters, but… I felt like I needed to be a big girl about it and for once, keep my mouth shut. Not to mention, I didn’t want his own childhood friends passing judgement on him the way Tameka had done only minutes ago. I felt like I would tarnish his relationship with these girls if I blabbed about what went down just before they came back in the house and I wouldn’t dare risk that.

The remainder of breakfast was cooked with light conversation that was started by Nalay who, of course, never failed to take it upon herself to sense anyone’s distress. She seemed to sense mine in an instant and I truly appreciated her for that.

My aunt had gotten home not long ago and was upstairs knocked out, somehow through all the commotion. So, we summoned only the boys to come join us out on the deck for breakfast. I noticed that Tameka made it a point to ignore Kendrick, who’d made it a point to sit right beside her. I smirked at the sight… he needed to give her time, she would come around eventually. I felt a sudden pang of guilt as I sat there surrounded by their lively conversation and laughter once my eyes drifted for only a second in the direction of Ms. Joyce’s house… maybe I should have just listened to him. I should have given him the opportunity that he begged for to explain himself to me. No… I had to continue to think strong and not give in to my soft spot, which was him. He needed time to cool off and get his mind together and I would give him just that. The episode that he’d had in the kitchen came as a complete surprise to me, so I needed him to get a grip and fast.

The entire day had nearly gone by, everyone had gone home, and here I sat on the couch in the den watching a documentary on Netflix… alone. I hadn’t heard from Chris since the incident this morning, not even a single text. It surprised me to a certain degree, but I was okay with it. He needed this… I needed this. I was almost proud of him for not caving in and reaching out to me because just as he was a soft spot for me, I knew I was that plus more for him. I remembered like yesterday when my loved ones used to insist that he had a heavy reliance on me… Destani and my aunt would constantly drill me with the story of how much I meant to him and how he seemed to barely function without me. Over the past year alone I’d learned the ugly truth of his extreme dependence and though I vowed to never leave his corner, I needed him to figure this one out on his own.

I’d gotten so sidetracked by my own thoughts that I failed to realize that my latest documentary had just ended and I was sitting there in complete silence. But my thoughts were so loud, I couldn’t even hear the silence in the room.

I almost laughed at the realization of myself sitting there on the couch, all alone, with no one to keep my company… I wasn’t used to it at all. The silence was short lived when I finally started up yet another documentary and seconds after that, I heard light footsteps padding down the stairs.

“Hey baby, you hungry?” I nearly forgot my aunt was even home and I quickly swung around with a smile to face her.

“Oh not right now, but I’m sure I will be in about an hour or so.” I said.

“Well you just let me know when and I’ll whip something up for you,” She drifted further into the den and plopped down on the end of the couch I was sitting on, “What you in here watching girl?”

“Just some nonsense on Netflix, but you can change though.” I extended my arm out with the remote in my hand, but of course she shook her head and refused to take it. If only she knew just how consumed I was with my thoughts… I’d barely been watching much of anything on the TV. We both turned our attention to the television and sat in a comfortable silence for a while, but eventually I could feel her stare against the side of my face.

“Have you talked to your dad or Tawny lately?” She asked.

With a smile I nodded and glanced over at her “I spoke to Tawny last night and I’m actually scheduled to talk to her again in about an hour and a half.”

“You’re scheduled to talk to her, girl what?” She laughed.

“Well she made me promise to make myself available every night around nine-thirty so she can facetime me to check in.”

She continued to laugh as she shook her head and sighed “That girl is something else, I tell ya.”

“I talked to my dad a few days ago. They’re really excited to get here. Every time I talk to him, that’s all he talks about.” I giggled.

“Aww, well I’m glad to hear that. I know I talked to him yesterday evening and girl when I tell you I’ve never met a man more excited to be a grandfather.” We both laughed and after a while the layer of silence washed back over us. My aunt’s eyes were still fixed on me… I could feel it. It’s almost like there was more that she wanted to say, but for some reason she was hesitating to say it.

“Sweetheart,” Turning my head to face her, I stared into her concerned eyes and waited for her to speak, “Is everything alright”

My immediate instinct was to nod and tell her that everything was fine, but… I would be lying to her if I did. And if I lied to her, she would know it.

Dropping my gaze to my twiddling fingers atop my belly, I sighed “I don’t know.”

“Mmhm, you know Auntie knows her girl. What’s on your mind baby?”

I sighed, yet again, and shook my head. My thoughts were all over the place so it took me a while to get a grip on at least one so that I could properly convey it to her “I’m just… I’m so confused Auntie. I guess I’m starting to wonder if Chris and I are ready to enter parenthood together.”

“You don’t think you’re ready for parenthood?”

“Well,” I paused, glancing over at her and silently egging myself on to just let my thoughts flow “I don’t think he’s ready for parenthood. I mean, I know he already has Jaylen, but… he barely gets any interaction with him.” “Well what makes you say that? What happened that’s got you thinking he’s not ready?”

“He went out last night with the boys. He actually didn’t even want to go, but I wanted him to because I thought it would be good for him. So I talked him into going and he got home really early this morning, and… he must have met someone out last night...” I was almost too ashamed to give any details about this half of the story because this part was only a reminder that, perhaps, Chris hadn’t changed.

“And why do you say that? What makes you think he met someone?” My aunt asked, sitting up a little straighter in her seat.

“His phone was ringing nonstop after he got here. Over the past few months I’ve been sleeping as light as a feather, so it woke me up and I got up to silence it. I didn’t mean to go through it… I really didn’t. I didn’t even look through anything, I just… I saw the text messages that came in between the phone calls and… it was just easy to tell that that was someone he’d met last night.” I kept the story at that… didn’t bother to go into any details about what was said or the picture that was sent. This wasn’t something I’d ever openly discussed with my aunt… Chris’s infidelities. It made me feel uncomfortable to even think about sharing that embarrassing truth with her.

“Hm, well have you had a chance to talk to him about it? Did he explain to you who this person was and why they were calling him at that hour of the morning?” My heart dropped at the sound of that question… I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about anything because he snapped and I silently threatened him with a knife before I could.

“No ma’am.” I spoke so lowly with my head dipped in shame, I was sure she probably hadn’t even heard me.

“Maybe all you need to do is talk to him baby,” She leaned back into the cushions of the couch and crossed her arms over her chest as she laughed, “I bet it’s just all these hormones you’re dealing with that had you overthinking and jumping to conclusions, right? Talk to him… I’m sure he has some type of explanation.”

Slowly shaking my head, I licked my parched lips and stared at her with brows twisted in defeat “He snapped in the kitchen this morning Auntie. He tried to explain himself to me, but… I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, so… he snapped.”

She froze in place and stared at me blankly for a while, almost as if she was registering exactly what I’d just said “What do you mean, he snapped Sy’Diyah?”

I had two options at this point. I could either continue this story in its entirety and inform her of the new dent on the front of her refrigerator, or I could just let her mosey on in the kitchen and discover it for herself. I sighed and shook my head…

“He wasn’t too happy with me cutting him off and refusing to let him explain himself. So… he punched the door of the refrigerator. And in response… I stuck a knife in his face.”

The room grew deathly silent then, with the exception of some British man discussing the southern pacific on the documentary that was playing in the background. I was afraid to look up at her. Afraid to discover the shock and disappointment on her face.

“Sy’Diyah…” Her voice was hushed and the sound of it tempted me to turn to face her, but I couldn’t, “Look at me baby.”

“Is he ready for this Auntie?” I mumbled feebly. I could feel that familiar heavy feeling of my throat closing, preparing itself for an onslaught of tears. This was indeed a difficult reality for me to grasp… the reality that I had a boyfriend who suffered from two different illnesses that wreaked havoc on his mental and emotional stability.

The cushion of the couch directly beside me dipped with her weight and I continued to stare down at my hands, even as she reached in to lace her fingers over the top of mine.

“I can’t answer that for you honey. I can’t…”

“Auntie,” The first tear fell and I quickly reached up to swipe it away… I was so tired of being the world’s biggest cry baby, “Did I make a mistake?”

The cool tips of her fingers suddenly tickled at the bottom of my chin, applying the slightest pressure to get me to lift my head. She stared into my pain-stricken eyes as if reading my soul and her face morphed into about three different expressions until she finally settled on sorrow. I felt her arm slither along the back of my shoulders and suddenly she was pulling me forward, tugging me into a hug only she could give.

“You did not make a mistake sweetheart. Remember what I told you when you were a little girl? You were only about ten years old and I told you… nothing you do in life should be branded as a mistake or regret. Every decision you make, good or bad, shall teach you lessons, help you grow, and make you the person you are with each passing day.”

“But, I… I… I don’t know if this is a good idea anymore. I don’t know if I can handle this Auntie. I love him, so much… but… I have a child who needs my love now. She is my priority. It’s my job to make sure she’s safe and secure, no matter what…”

I sobbed against her chest as I listened to my own words. I had never, ever, in the entire span of time that I’d known Chris, spoken of him this way. Like a… a criminal. But here I was, mapping him out to be some violent stranger who was going to do harm to my daughter. He was her father… he would never hurt her. Yet, why did I feel so conflicted and compelled to… question his stability?

“It’s okay darling, trust me… it’s okay,” She cradled me close to her, my head rested comfortably between the crook of her neck and her chest and her right hand caressing my hair and the side of my face, “You know, when you were only one week old and your father placed your tiny little body in my hands and asked me to… to take you and care for you, I became a mother at that precise moment. I’ve obviously never had children of my own, but when the instincts of a mother kick in, it simply can’t be ignored. It is your duty, Sy’Diyah, to love and protect this little girl with everything in you. I recognize that that desire will never, ever leave you… because you are your mother’s child, you will be a phenomenal mother.”

I felt like a little girl with the way she held onto me. I guess I hadn’t realized it, but… I needed this. I needed my Aunt’s touch and love. I needed her guidance and soothing words of wisdom. She was the only mother I’d ever known… I needed her maternal touch.

“And one thing I do know honey, is that the young man next door… the father of your child… he is the love of your life. You two were created especially for one another. God crafted you, and only you, with the ability to love that boy in a special kind of way that even I can’t fully comprehend. I don’t know the ins and outs of your relationship. I don’t know what makes the two of you tick. But I do know that you would both be heartbroken if you gave up.”

Sniffling quietly against her chest because my tears had subsided, I blinked slowly and sighed… every word she’d just spoken eased me back to my senses and I felt a thousand times better. I raised a hand to wipe the remnants of my straggling tears and lifted a hand to my belly. My baby… I prayed that God gave me the strength to be at least half the woman that my Aunt is for me, for this child.

“Thank you Auntie. You don’t know how much I needed that.”

“Oh I know exactly how much you needed it girl, I was just waiting for the day.” She laughed. Pulling back away from her, I turned to face her with a raised brow “What do you mean?”

“You know that motherly instinct we just talked about? I just… knew.”

I smiled and swept a few strands of hair away from the side of my face that’d gotten stuck from my tears “I really hope I can be all of what and who you are for my daughter. I’ve never met a woman with your strength and knowledge.”

She grinned, hard, and snorted through her nose with a shake of her head “If only you knew your own strength. This little girl… she’s already blessed and she doesn’t even know it.”

I felt the warmth of her palms against the sides of my belly and I peered down at the sight… yeah, baby girl was tremendously blessed.

“Now, my suggestion for you is to get some rest and focus on this pregnancy. Don’t stress yourself with anything or anyone. You should be resting and nesting right about now, not worried about some knuckled headed, love struck boy who had a hissy fit against my refrigerator.”

She laughed and I laughed right along with her… I really did feel bad about the fridge.

“He’ll come back, just give him some time. Ya’ll are deeply in love, true enough. But perhaps a little bit of a break will do you both some good.”

She was right… I loved Chris with everything in me, but now more than ever… we did need some time apart. I just hoped that he would feel the same.

#chrisbrown #chrisbrownff #chrisbrownfanfic #jasminesanders #chrisbrownfanfiction #jasminesandersff #teambreezy #teambreezyff #fanfiction #fanfic

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crimsonwritesstony · 6 years ago

Text

Selfless Pie: Chapter Four

And here is the final piece of this story! I'm so happy that people seem to be enjoying it, so I won't take too long here. <3

Chapter Three link here

“Ten years and they still haven’t changed this wobbly deathtrap. Lord knows I’ve given them plenty to update it. I blame Fury.” Steve didn’t move from his spot on the path just outside of the bleachers, his eyes quietly tracking Tony’s fingers dipping along the rusted metal of the structure. “Based on the current level of erosion and decay, I can’t expect these things to last another two years. I’ll have to talk to Bruce about setting up a plan to work it into the funds and get new bleachers for all the fields before next summer.”

“Tony, why are we here?” He hadn’t meant to sound so strained, but the sharp pains echoing in his chest with each heartbeat were making it hard to push out his words. He hated this memory and had tried to wash it away any way he could throughout the years. The feel of Tony’s cheek in his hand stained his skin like ink that couldn’t be scrubbed off. His show of vulnerability burned against the back of the soldier’s eyelids for months, and silently Steve would beg that something would show him mercy when he’d sleep. He couldn’t stop the younger man’s wounded face from running through his brain any time he went to bed, and distortions of the night would manifest into nightmares. The only time he’d been able to truly forget about Tony’s pain was when he went to war, knowing it was too selfish to let lingering regrets cloud his mind.

“This is the place your punch knocked Brock into.” Two fingers tapped a specific beam on the bleachers, his smile genuine when he glanced back to Steve. “I thought you killed him for a second. His little cronies nearly wet themselves in fear. I think there’s still a dent here from Rumlow’s thick skull.”

“Not one of my best moments,” Steve admitted with a roll of his eyes, glancing back out at the field he’d called a second home in high school.

Despite the bitter flashback lingering in his mind, he knew there was more to remember. He’d met Sam here, and he could recall how impressed he was with the freshman’s agility on the bases during tryouts. Even as a freshman, his friend refused to be treated with kiddie gloves, and rose to every expectation Mr. Fury had given him without a protest. And he’d never hesitated to give Steve advice, whether it was about baseball or adolescent hangups, making the man a truly trustworthy friend.

A glance to the right field made him think of Clint. Cheerful and optimistic despite some of the surlier friends of their group, Clint was compassionate and always there to give a unique take on any situation. Many times he’d stay late to catch fly balls that seemed impossible to track down for anyone but the nimble outfielder. The jokester had always tricked one of his friends into staying with him, not that any of them minded. It took until the middle the Sophomore season to realize their friend was scared to go home while his alcoholic father was still awake.

It was a year later Natasha learned she was adopted. In the middle of practice, the redhead walked onto the field, eyes distant and movements coiled tight as a new guitar string. She made it until Clint’s hand touched her shoulder, the girl collapsing into her best friend’s arms. Steve hadn’t hesitated to tell Mr. Fury they had to go, knowing it could jeopardize his chances of getting captain senior year. He and Bucky scrambled to grab their stuff, Clint’s steady arms carrying her to his car without a second thought. Mr. Fury later told Steve that his dedication to supporting his fellow teammates, no matter the consequences to himself, was just what he needed in a future captain.

That very field was where Bucky met his soulmate, though that hadn’t been an easy road. Sam and Bucky clashed the first year, unaware the tension between them wasn’t hatred. Junior year had seen the two learn each other, and connect in ways they’d never done before with another male. It had scared Bucky enough to make him avoid Sam for the last month of school. A summer night of the original four hanging out at the baseball field ended with Steve confronting his friend with the truth; he liked Sam. He’d gotten a left hook to the face in reply. They’d only stopped when Clint and Nat forced them apart, and for three weeks there had been radio silence between the two. It’d been the longest time he’d gone without talking to Bucky. They even made up on the field, tricked by Sam to meet while being unaware he’d been the reason they fought to begin with. Senior year, the dirt diamond had been witness to Steve helping Bucky accept that it was okay to fall for a goofy smile, even if it was connected to a boy.

He was just as surprised to realize that he’d held many memories with Tony there, as well. The earlier memories were mundane, strictly studying on the bleachers. The two argued through their sessions and stomped away childishly at the end, frustrated and sure the other would quit their arrangement. But animosity and hatred ebbed away, replaced with subtler feelings. There was an afternoon where Tony asked about Steve’s curveball, and the pitcher had left their science books on the dilapidated metal to drag Tony onto the mound. Or when it had started raining on them, and for the first time, Tony had offered his house as an alternative to the field.

Then the genius randomly started popping by during practice with excuses too elaborate to be real. Tony made a new signs system for Nat to use with the team when their old set had been leaked online. He’d helped Sam fix his swing with data collection and bought Clint a better glove when seeing how worn out his old one was. Tony would be at as many games as he could get to with his hectic schedule, even though he made sure to remind the snickering Bucky how much he hated the sport. He learned baseball slang to harass Steve with in the hallway and recited pointless sports trivia during late night phone calls. When Jarvis was hospitalized for pneumonia, Tony had asked Steve to show him how to ‘hit something hard’. Steve pitched for hours to the emotional genius until Tony’s knees gave out, and didn’t hesitate to hold the brunet while he cried into Steve’s chest.

It was where he realized he was in love with Tony Stark, even if he was too much of a coward to say it out loud. Good or bad, mundane of life-changing, Steve owed the place for the memories it kept for him. All he needed to do was return, and like the ocean against the sand, waves of memories would drag him back to a time where he’d felt the most alive. He loved his life, was proud of the man that he had become. But there was something about the time captured in the grass and dirt of the baseball field that he knew would never be replaced. Taking a slow breath of the chilled air, Steve closed his eyes and let go of the final traces of anxiety that had clung to him throughout the night.

“Tony,” he started, but his words were halted when the quiet voice of his companion piped in.

“Can I ask you something?” Brown eyes didn’t lift from the metal in front of him, Steve slow to step closer to prove his attention was focused on the brunet. “That last night we were here, after you went super Saiyan on Brock’s face...was I the only one who felt something there?”

“What?”

“I think about it, probably more than I should. And I just...I question if it’s an error in my programming. Question where I went so wrong that I thought that someone like Steve Rogers would ever wanna be with me. But then I think about that night, and I’m sure that I saw...something. Don’t ask me what exactly because I was hopped up on coffee and awake for almost two days, so maybe I was just drugged from the caffeine ingestion and hallucinating, but I thought...were you gonna kiss me?”

“You’re rambling.” It was the first thought that came to Steve’s mind, knowing it was a clear indicator that Tony was nervous when they were younger. Tony’s hand tightened on the metal in his grasp before he winced, the reaction sending up red flags in Steve’s mind.

“People always want to kiss me now, you know. And why wouldn’t they? I’m smart, made of money and have been voted the sexiest man under thirty for three straight years. But back when I went here, we both know that wasn’t the case. I was still smart and my dad was the one with the money, but I was crazy to think I’d attract anyone. Pretty sure the only person who thought I was cute was the cafeteria lady with the mole on her nose. Why I got it in my head that you would be...this is stupid.”

Tony’s head shook slowly, as if the movement would dismiss whatever was filling his complex brain. Something welled up in Steve’s chest at the scene unfolding in front of him. Tony was closing himself off, just as he’d done the night Steve had chosen Tony’s future over his own feelings. For the second time in his life, he was watching a glimmering moment dim with doubt and rejection.

“You’re asking-”

“Nothing, I’m not-I just brought you out here to check out Stark field; thought you’d get a kick out of it being named after me when you practically lived on it. But we should’ve went back by now; Jan’s wanted to climb you since junior year and I probably just ruined her plan-”

“I did want to kiss you.” The truth was easy this time around. Tony’s head lifted from the slumped pose it had dropped to during his berating, staring at Steve with eyes a little wider than normal. Steve’s hands shoved themselves into his pockets and he nodded, refusing to hide his face while he confessed. “The truth is, I had a crush on you. Probably from the moment I saw you, but I didn’t really admit it until Senior year. So that night, I was sure someone out there was giving me a shot to finally tell you how I felt. But...when I realized that you were this young prodigy about to change the world and I was going off to be some army brat...I knew you were too good to keep on hold. Why would someone like you wait for me?”

“Because you’re Steve Rogers? You’re hot and kind and way more talented with a cherry stem than I could ever dream of and...you were Mr. Perfect. Seriously, is this a real question?”

“You were never swept up in any of the hype when it came to me. You saw past all that and treated me like the awkward teenage student I was. And it was...nice,” Steve admitted, feeling a bit of a grin grab at his face when noticing how thrown off Tony had become. “Nice to have someone call me out when I made a mistake. Infuriating at times, but nice. You treated me normal. Teased me when others were too nervous to smudge my ‘perfect’ legacy or something. But it was different than Bucky or Sam. Felt different, at least. Was kind of endearing, when you weren’t being a sarcastic pain.”

“This is...not really happening right now. Really, I don’t need you to lie to me about this. My pride will totally shake off your rejection after a bottle of whiskey and a Grey’s Anatomy marathon.” The skepticism that trickled through Tony’s voice was broken up with moments of hope, as if he wasn’t sure which emotion to truly believe in. “I know what I was in high school; you don’t need to keep trying to save me.”

“That’s not all I do, you know.”

“It’s sort of your calling card, Cap. Though the fake pining story must be clashing with your honor code.” Stubbornness started to flare its head in the genius, and Steve’s need to shake the other was almost too tempting to ignore. Instead, he took a slow breath, glancing around the area while trying to think of a new approach to the discussion. It was only natural that the field came back into vision, Steve’s mind flickering with an idea.

“Did you watch the baseball game?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You told me that you were going to try and get my game on the plane. Did you end up watching it? Specifically the fourth inning?” Tony’s eyes searched Steve’s expression as if waiting for the other man to flash a grin and take back the random questioning. The blond kept his face as serious as he could, feeling his shoulders tense up until Tony gave a nod.

“Yeah, I watched it. Almost didn’t, cause of...but I did. Nothing else really to do on the plane.” Tony glanced to his fingers picking at the rust on the bleachers, another attempt at casual despite the tension in the air.

“There was a clip that they cut out of the reruns of the game later, but during the live broadcasting, Clint did something.” That was putting it mildly. The outfielder had started to scream bloody murder in the mid-inning, going as far as tossing his glove and kicking at the dirt on his way to the outfield. The loud cries of ‘why didn’t you do it?!’ had been recorded for the millions of people to see, but the only person Steve was currently focused on was now snorting.

“Clint throwing a temper tantrum and rolling around in the grass on live television was the highlight of the game. I thought Fury was going to get arrested for killing him!”

“He got close,” Steve admitted, remembering the look of death that crawled over Mr. Fury’s face when they came off the field. The only thing that had saved Clint was the amazing catch he’d made later on in the game after getting his emotions in check.

“So, besides reminding me of something I need to tease Legolas about when we get back to the reunion, why are you bringing it up?” Some of the strain that had been holding Tony hostage looked to be disappearing from the younger man’s body, using the bleacher’s beam to support his weight.

“I was the reason he had his meltdown.” The intrigued look Tony gave Steve urged him to explain, the blond clearing his throat before talking through the blush. “I guess before the inning started, Bucky let it slip that I didn’t kiss you the night before. And Clint...well, he was sorta positive that we were gonna fall in love in high school. Even went as far as to bet some pretty decent money on it with Sam, so when he heard about what happened, and that you had left for MIT without us kissing he...lost it.”

“That beautiful bastard.” Tony let out a small chuckle at Steve’s awkward explanation, his eyes shining with mirth as he tilted his head in a way that flipped the blonde’s stomach. “I thought you looked pretty flushed on the mound that inning, but I attributed it to your Irish skin being in the sun too long.”

“No, I knew exactly what he was yelling about, and unlike Clint, I remembered it was national television. Something you’d said you were going to watch. After that, there was no way I could talk to you.” For the first time since his admission, Steve glanced away from Tony, staring at his shoes toeing the dirt of the pathway. “Every time I even looked at my phone, I was scared you’d seen it and would ask. We’d never really...talked anything out, and doing it on the phone felt cheap. I tried to save up the money to come see you at MIT, but by the time I got it, I was shipping off for basic training.”

“Did you forget I was rich back then, too? I could have bought you a plane ticket first class with just my allowance alone. Like seriously, wouldn’t have even put a dent in my wallet. I was going to do that anyways until that almost-not-really-probably-hallucinating kiss we didn’t have.”

“I couldn’t use you for your money, Tony. That’d be selfish.” Tony stared in pure shock at Steve’s explanation before his arms shot into the air in obvious frustration, though Steve couldn’t understand the anger.

“I was in love with you, Rogers! I watched baseball for you. Baseball. You could have asked me to buy the moon and I would have done it without question! NASA would have fought with me about it, but honestly I could have swayed them with ideas to improve their equipment and we’re on a speed dial relationship at the moment so it would have worked out-” the second round of rambling was cut off by Tony himself, seeming to realize mid-sentence what he had said. Before the genius could lapse into his fight or flight response, Steve stepped forward, rushing his answer out.

“Me too! I mean, I loved you, too.” They stared at each other for a moment, letting the shared confessions sink in. A warmth settled in Steve’s chest that he didn’t want to lose. Tony had loved him. It felt like he’d known the information already, but hearing it was a different sensation. He was sure he was blushing, but the embarrassment over that simmered away when realizing Tony was quite pink himself. Tony Stark never blushed, and this was the second time Steve had gotten the opportunity to see it. Rushing to seize the opportunity presented to him, Steve didn’t hesitate to reach forward and grasp Tony’s hand. “And even now, I…”

Except, for just a moment, the soldier wondered if anything had changed. Tony was still a star thousands of miles out of Steve’s reach. For ten years, the older man had dedicated his life to protecting the weak, just as he’d always done. But the man in front of him had changed the world with his technology. He’d given Bucky his arm back and helped Sam’s organization flourish. He donated money to charities, fundraisers, and a school that had rarely shown him kindness or sympathy. Tony Stark wasn’t just on a different level than Steve; he was in his own galaxy. Ten years ago, he’d let the charming young man slip through his fingers to keep from tying him down. He’d already given up their moment so Tony could shine brighter. But could he walk away again, knowing the first time was one of the biggest sacrifices of his life, without saying something?

Who says he wants you to walk away? The small voice of hope questioned, and Steve knew he didn’t have an answer for that.

But there was only one way to know the truth.

“Even now, you what?” Tony didn’t seem willing to let the conversation die either, fingers quick to sneak between the space of Steve’s. He hooked them as if afraid the blond would pull away, just like he’d done the last time. And God, Steve knew in that moment he never wanted to hurt this man again.

“I still-” The loud blare of a ringtone interrupted Steve’s confession, the brunet vocalizing Steve’s frustration with a growl that boarded feral. Snatching the device from his pocket, Tony didn’t release Steve’s hand, using his other one to turn on the speakerphone.

“Bruce, normally I’d be tickled pink to provide you phone sex, but you’re totally interrupting something that I’m 92.5% sure is important and/or life-changing.” A quick glance at Steve’s face had the genius recalculating, pressing the phone closer to his mouth. “Make that 96%.”

“Sorry, Tony, but Jan is 100% ready to hunt you down if you don’t return to the reunion with Steve in the next five seconds. She’s been waiting for twenty minutes to get this class photo done, but since you two missed the last reunion, she refuses to do it without you. We’ve been trying to stall for you two, but she’s a hard woman to deter when she’s on a mission.” Bruce did sound apologetic for the interruption, but he didn’t seem to be in a position to try and buy the pair any more time.

“Tell her we died. Tragic...bear accident. Cap fought till the bloody end to protect me and it was magical. She can send flowers to my house in Malibu, I prefer yellow daffodils-”

“Tony, no.” Steve scolded, having to bit back his smile when the brunet glanced up at him and rolled his eyes.

“Well I doubt a rabid raccoon digging through the school’s dumpster is gonna take you out, so Yogi’s the way to go.” The atmosphere from before was broken when Steve laughed, the blond pulling the scowling genius closer to speak into the phone.

“We’re on our way, Dr. Banner. Please extend our apologies to Miss Van Dyne.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Steve ended the call with the teacher before he pushed the phone back to Tony, whose face showed his obvious displeasure in the decision.

“You are literally trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Says the one debating which animal should maul me to death.”

“For good reason!”

“It’s just a picture,” Steve replied, shaking his head before he pulled the stubborn man back toward the school building. “We’ll take the shot and then we’ll find a place to continue this conversation.”

“You do realize we have the worst timing in the history of the world? I think we give Titanic a run for its money.”

“Picture, then talk. It’ll be fine.”

Except, like most situations, Tony was right. The picture took forever, as managing to get that many people in the shot without one of them sneezing, blinking, or getting threatened by Logan was a tedious endeavor. As soon as the photo was taken, the genius got yanked into a conversation with Reed Richards and his wife, Sue, regarding thermonuclear chemistry. Steve’s attention was pulled to helping Scott Lang find his missing watch and then tossed into a tense debate between Jean Grey and Emma Frost about the definition of cheating. He’d only escaped that by offering to help Jan clean-up the buffet table, followed by a few dances with many girls he faintly remembered from high school. He’d looked for Tony while using the excuse of needing to use the restroom, but he couldn’t catch sight of him. Right when he spotted the man of the hour flailing his arms at a song Peter Quill had convinced the DJ to play, Carol Danvers was yanking on his sleeve to play ‘would you rather’ (“Aren’t we a little too old for high school games, Danvers?” “Aren’t you a little too old to be staring at Tony like a lost puppy, Rogers?”), leaving the blond no time to seek out his moment.

And then, in a blink of an eye, the reunion was over.

“That was way better than last year!” Clint’s loud proclamation proved that he’d had his fair share of drinks, and Steve gave a concerned glance to the redhead keeping Clint from stumbling through the parking lot. Her fingers lifted high enough to show the keys of the truck, the soldier releasing the breath he’d been holding.

“I had a lot of fun,” Bruce added, giving a full smile toward Natasha before glancing to his right. “What about you, Tony? You happy we convinced you to come?”

“When has a Stark ever regretted going to a party?” Tony’s smile was large, mischievous, and completely fake. Steve could tell how hard he was forcing himself to play the part he’d been cast in for years, but it was phony. Fingers twitched by his side, wanting to reach over and grab the man. Though their group was walking out together, it meant the chance of finishing what they had started a decade ago was rapidly closing.

“Well, I’m just happy that we all got through it with no broken bones or wardrobe malfunctions.” Pepper’s head was resting on her husband’s shoulder as he led her along the pavement, and Steve wondered if the flush on her face was from the heat of the gymnasium, the cold outside, or the wine she’d been drinking throughout the night.

“The night’s still young, and Lang was starting to unbutton his shirt. Wonder if he was a stripper in a past life.” Bucky grinned at the slight buzz he had, linking his fingers between Sam’s as he swayed.

“It’s like I said before; just like old times.” Clint’s declaration was met with a hum of disagreement from Nat, who gave a casual glance toward her boyfriend.

“Some things have changed.”

“But the basics are the same. Like...like...oh!” Clint sharply turned to face the large group, holding his hand out to count down the fingers while he spoke. “Brock’s still the biggest asshole I know.”

“Okay, one point for Clint,” Pepper teased, though the blond didn’t seem to care as he continued.

“Stephen Strange still wears a cape around.”

“To be fair, it’s made of much better material than before.” Tony’s words were mumbled as he clicked away at something on his phone, which he’d had glued to his face since Clint had started his rant. The observation was surprising, considering the two men never got along in high school. Strange and Tony were similar in the worst ways, and their differences only increased the tension. But there was no bitterness or annoyance in the brunet’s comment, and Steve wondered if they’d mended bridges throughout the years.

“Then there’s the fact that I’m still the best dancer of the group-”

“You are milky white and have no rhythm.” Sam’s deadpan reply was waved off by Clint despite the snickers from the group.

“And the biggest thing that hasn’t changed is that Tony and Steve.” Like a vacuum sucked the good mood from the air, all signs of laughter evaporated. The only man who was still smiling was Clint, too drunk and proud of himself to read the scene. “They are going to hopelessly pine for each other for another decade, and we’ll have to listen to them be miserable but be too chicken to do shit about it until the next reunion.”

Steve’s stomach flipped as he glanced at Tony, who continued to stare at his screen despite no longer moving his fingers. It was obvious he was tense, proving he’d been paying more attention than he let on. The fingers on the back of the phone were tapping, and Steve knew the sign. It’d always been a tic of his, and Steve realized that even after a decade, he hadn’t forgotten the small nuances of the genius. Just like Tony remembered his favorite flavor of sour patch and knew the exact spot Steve had punched Brock’s head into. If Steve was being completely honest with himself, he was sure he’d never forget the things he’d memorized about Tony in their youth, no matter how long they went without talking. And it didn’t take much introspection to realize why.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Steve’s bold proclamation dragged Tony’s attention up from his phone, the tall blond taking the few steps across the parking lot to stop in front of him. He didn’t look away or flinch at the murmurs behind them, instead keeping his focus on the way Tony worried his bottom lip with his teeth.

“You a fortune teller now?” It was tossed out as a joke, but Steve wasn’t willing to take the easy way out. Instead, he reached forward, grabbing Tony’s free hand in his own and linking their fingers together again.

“I owe you a talk.”

“You think this is the best place for that?”

“No, which is why I’m gonna ask you out on a date now.” The wince that had started in the brown stare in front of Steve quickly turned to surprise by the end of the bold statement. Refusing to back down from the fight, Steve took a slow breath and continued. “ Let me take you out for dinner, and we can talk about what I was gonna say behind the bleachers. Um, if you’re still interested.”

“If I’m still interested,” Tony parroted back, and for a split second, Steve wondered if he’d read the entire night wrong. The genius had admitted how he felt when they were kids, but what about now? Had Steve been too late, and asking for a second chance made the situation awkward? The need to backtrack rushed through him, Steve’s eyes dropped to his feet while he stepped back.

“But you’re busy with running your business and helping Sam’s foundation so I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“No no, you don’t get to pull that selfless pie crap right now.” Tony’s phone was shoved into his pocket before Steve could blink, the newly free hand grabbing Steve’s tie and yanking him forwards.

“Woah, Tony-” But the words he meant to say lodged in his throat when getting a good glance at his counterpart’s face. Anger and desire bloomed in the glare sent his way, the grip around his tie only tightening while Tony spoke.

“If you want something with me, you take it right now or you walk away again and we spend another ten years...whatever the hell Drunk Arrow called it.”

“Pining.”

“Sure, that. Did he tell you I made him his own archery playground? Honestly, I don’t listen to him most days, but I like looking at his arms when he strings a bow. I mean, they’re nothing compared to your gorgeous body- okay, delicious thought, but not where I meant to go with this.” Tony’s eyes flickered across Steve’s face, as if making sure he still had his undivided attention. “Here’s our options, man with a plan. You can try to make up another pathetic excuse for why we can’t have this and take back your offer to wine and dine me. Then I can go to my lab with Platypus on speaker phone, moaning about the Meredith-Derek relationship we got going on. That’s a choice; terrible one in my opinion, but still a technical, sex-less choice.”

“I don’t-” But the genius seemed quite done listening to Steve’s excuses, steamrolling over whatever he planned to say next with a raised voice.

“Or, you could man up and for once in your life be selfish. Cause I’ve got NASA on speed dial, and I’m still willing to make that call for you. You want the moon, you got it. And that’s not going to change, no matter how many ways you slice your stupid pastry. But another ten years is too long to be left in limbo if we’re both feeling the same thing. And I want this. I really want this. ” A hiccup of softness rounded the expression on Tony’s face, and Steve’s heart skipped when the once bold voice lowered in a quieter confession. Then, as if the change never occurred, Tony’s bravado was back in full force. “ So what’s it going to be, Rogers? Am I going to be stuck growing old and watching baseball forever with you or not?”

It was the worst love confession Steve had ever heard, full of rambling and half-baked thoughts that didn’t show a hint of the genius IQ Tony was known for. In fact, part of the time he was blatantly hitting on one of Steve’s close friends. He insulted the best sport known to man, had implied the two-time receiver of a medal of honor was a coward, and somehow brought NASA into it. Why was he so set on giving Steve the moon? All in all, Tony’s speech was a train wreck of a statement, filled with far more glares than Steve had envisioned on nights he wanted to torture himself over thoughts of ‘what if’. The whole thing should have had Steve running for the hills.

But the blond didn’t hesitate to smile at the man watching him, leaning down to steal the kiss that was ten years overdue. The warmth pressed against his mouth felt charged with electricity, and Steve’s hand leaned up to cup Tony’s face while he deepened the connection. The tie was left dangling between them when slender fingers slid into Steve’s hair, angling his mouth lower for the genius to deepen the kiss. In what felt like the far distance, the sound of cheers and hollers pricked the back of the soldier’s ears, but he ignored it to run his tongue against the parting lips under his mouth. Everything felt right, like a piece of a puzzle Steve hadn’t known he was missing found its place in his heart. Tony moved as if he was on the same page, hand clinging tightly to Steve’s while their mouths became fully acquainted. Feeling the lean curves pressed against his body made the taller man shiver before pulling away, panting from the kiss. His forehead easily dropped down onto Tony’s, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling of holding the other man in his arms.

“About fuckin time, punk!” Bucky’s loud call made Steve glare over to him, though another tug on his tie brought his attention back to Tony.

“Focus, hot stuff.” The hand that slipped into his back pocket made his eyes widen, though Tony’s fingers seemed more interested in snagging the cell phone than mapping the curve of the captain’s ass. A look of irritation crossed his face when staring at the flip phone, and Steve had to hold himself back from leaning down to taste Tony’s pout. “This is just an insult. It’s sacrilegious that I’m even touching this piece of junk.”

“What’s wrong with prepaid?” His tease actually got a shiver from Tony, who finished typing something in before pushing the phone into Steve’s chest.

“Pick me up at Stark Tower tomorrow. Eight sound good? Oh, and I’m giving you a new phone because I refused to be in love with a Motorola caveman.”

“You still love me?” Steve asked, hoping the tremble at the end of his question was covered by his sheepish smile. Tony’s smirk was instant, rising to his toes like a sleek panther. A final, sultry kiss was stolen by the genius, and Steve’s hands twitched with the need to yank the warm body hard against his own. But before he could give in to temptation, Tony pushed away, his eyes smoothing over Steve once more before turning.

“Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.” The blond knew the sway in Tony’s hips was purposeful, yet the man couldn’t keep his eyes off the motion. Pepper and Happy exchanged their quick goodbyes with the group before they scurried after the man, leaving Bruce behind with his thoroughly amused girlfriend. Steve was instantly weighed down by Bucky and Sam’s arms, which each took a post on a shoulder. The couple took their turns ruffling the blonde’s hair, wearing matching grins.

“I’m proud of you, man.”

“Yeah, looks like little Stevie finally got his fella.”

“You two are too much,” Steve muttered, hating how warm his ears were feeling despite his smile.

“Boys,” Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes while leaning closer to Bruce. The expected reaction had the soldier laughing, but the sudden wail of their final companion turned the group’s attention to Clint.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked, crooking an eyebrow at the distressed friend.

“If I knew it was that easy to hook you two up, I would have won the bet in high school!” The cry of unfairness set the friends into a loud roar of laughter, Clint’s drunken scowl only increasing the craziness of the night. Steve’s smile softened as he glanced across the parking lot, eyes lingering on the baseball field.

And he knew out of all the memories he’d had of this place, this one would always be his favorite.

And that's it! Poor Clint, just wanted to make some money. But at least our boys are happy! Thank you all for taking the time to read my first Stony story, I have a BINGO card I'm working on currently as well as two stories my Discord friends helped convince me to write, so you'll be seeing those pop up here soon. Until then, reblogs and comments are always good ways to let me know if I'm doing something right! thanks again <3

#Stony #Stony fandom #Stony fanfiction #Stony fanfic #Marvel #Tony Stark #steve rogers #Marvel fanfic #Marvel fandom #Crimsonwritesstony

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hilariousandunappreciated · 6 years ago

Text

One Day At A Time

word count: 2.6k

summary: Moments throughout the years in the Howell-Lester household. Moments that define their life now. Moments that make it all worth it.

ao3 | quotev

A/N: After a good 3 weeks of not being motivated and not writing at all, I have returned with very fluffy parent!phan (because of course it is.)

I wanted to base a fic off of a song so the title/lyrics are from One Day At A Time by Sam Smith, a song in my phan playlist and one that I really love. It just reminds me that things are not always easy but no matter what happens, we have our friends and/or family and we can just take things one day at a time, no rush, no need to have our life together and sorted. It is a reminder that everything is going to be okay :) Enjoy <3 (note at the end as well!)

1. But I got everything I need, baby, in the palms of your touch / in world of dark distractions, it can all get too much

Silence. A pin could drop and it might have sounded like a crash. The air was haltingly still. It was charged. But not electric. Peaceful, rather.

Dan was curled into the side of the couch, face resting in the grey cushion, shoulder leaving a dent in the already creased fabric. His legs curled into his chest, arms wrapped around his middle, sweater paws of his black fluffy jumper comforting him. His eyelids drooped with exhaustion after spending nearly an hour getting the kids to settle for a nap. They would put up a fit, struggle, yell, kick, whine. And it was never unusual but it was enough to knock Dan and Phil out. Naptime for Suze and Dil was almost always naptime for them. And if not, it was a time to catch up on work that never got done when needy children were always in tow.

Dan snuggled into the sofa and his shoulders relaxed from his ears as he sighed into his position. Sleep laced his eyelashes and fogged his thoughts. Phil sat on a chair against the opposite wall, laptop carefully propped on his legs and brows furrowed in concentration. He was no doubt trying to finish something important while there was finally peace in their (somewhat) hectic household. Dan listened and observed silently as Phil typed. click clack click Phil slouched. click A slender finger came up to adjust his glasses. click clack He leaned forward ever so slightly clack click click His forehead creased a little more. In the meantime, Dan admired these mannerisms as if they had meaning. As if Phil adjusting his glasses was his intelligence. His slouch was his tireless work. His lean towards the screen was his dedication, not only to his work but to his family. Dan smiled softly and let his mind melt with the light clicking, the smooth fabric of the sofa lulling him further into his subconscious. His heart didn't swell, he did not feel particularly passionate, but he felt a simple feeling, a miniature twinge in his heart.

“I love you,” he called to Phil, sleep slurring the consonants only a little.

Phil looked up, face a glow from the screen. He smiled in reply, lips curling up and eyes softening at the words. Dan finally gave in and let his mind take him to a land of dreams.

When he awoke, his space blanket had been tucked around his long limbs and he heard the babble of parent and toddler from the kitchen.

2. I know you're feeling weighed down tonight, and you can't find the breaks / every day is too long for you, you are sworn to your fate

It was an exhausting day. Dan had been awake since 9am, preparing to go to two meetings that had been scheduled last month. He wished he could skip them but he had no excuse except for the fact that he slept a whopping four hours the night before. And he didn't want to go. That would be of no significance to the important execs at either meeting. So he went. Several hours of planning, talking about Young Minds. New ideas. New missions. New accomplishments. Dan found it interesting but his eyelids betrayed him and he desperately tried to hold in the yawns pushing to escape. But he made it.

He walked up the porch steps grudgingly, legs a little sore and headache nudging the back of his head and pulsing in his temples. Damnit. He needed to sleep properly. The key turned in the lock and he was immediately met with the melodic sound of indie pop flowing into the front room. His headache pushed further at each note, crescendo, beat. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to ground himself. All he wanted was to come home and fall face first into bed. But now there was music twisting the pain in his head and he was ready to snap.

Dan threw his slick, black coat aside in frustration and followed the source of excess noise. Down the hall the music grew a little louder and each repeat of a chorus brought him closer to his bedroom, light filtering through the cracked open door. Dan squinted at the sound, eventually taking a hand and pushing the door ajar to investigate.

The light hit his eyes and Dan did his best to ignore his throbbing head. He peered through the doorway to find Phil, Suzie, and Dil, dancing in circles to the ridiculous tune, arms waving and feet kicking. Dan found Phil stooped over, hands grasped tightly to Suzie's small pale ones, holding on to her and spinning and stepping awkwardly as her feet stepped on top of his. Phil was beaming and towards the corner little Dil wildly danced in circles and squealed in delight.

Dan's irritation and pessimism melted each second he watched them twirl and flap limbs around in a sloppy excuse for dancing. His near scowl melted into an admiring smile and he stepped into the room just as the music came to a stop. Phil turned to see a tired, smiling Dan and released Suzie from his grip. She followed Phil's line of sight and ran to hug Dan's leg, auburn curls a mess. Dil ran after her and grabbed Dan's hand, tugging.

“Hi, babe,” Phil greeted breathlessly. His eyes sparkled and he strode to where Dan was standing, two kids hanging off of him.

“Daddy! Papa was dancing with us!” Dil piped up.

“That's great, bud! I bet it was fun,” Dan replied softly, tired tone seeping through the words despite his efforts to sound enthusiastic.

Phil gave him a knowing look.

“Yeah! You should come dance, too!” Suzie was all giggles as she hopped with each word of her suggestion.

But Phil knew. He read Dan like familiar literature, the creases around his mouth and forehead, the slouch dragging him a little lower than normal, voice slower and softer. Phil gazed at Dan and offered a sympathetic smile.

“I think Daddy can dance with us another time, let's go back into the lounge, you can pick out a movie,” Phil patted Suzie's back as he spoke as if to urge her out of the room.

Phil fixed his hand around Dil’s shoulder and ushered him gently to the door. The kids skipped out and down the hall in front of Phil before he reached out and squeezed Dan's hand. His other hand landed on Dan's arm, thumb tracing a circle there.

“Go ahead and rest, I can still handle the kids,” Phil leaned in and pressed a kiss in between Dan's crossed brows.

Phil released Dan's hand and walked back to the door.

“Okay, love you,” Dan sighed, making his way to the bed.

“Love you, too,” and Phil slipped out the door.

3. But we got everything we need baby, in the memories we make / in a world of reinvention, it's never too late

Phil's eyes hesitantly opened, sleep still playing at the corners of his mind and his dreams slowly fading. He fished for his glasses on his nightstand and slipped them on before glancing at the time glowing on his phone screen. 12pm. Oh shit, he thought, I didn't mean to sleep this late. He knew Dan was probably up with the kids and he felt guilty for sleeping so long and not helping out when he should have. He reached up to rub the confusion from his heavy eyelids and moved to get out of bed. As he pushed up from the warm mattress, he heard the echoes of the piano from upstairs. Phil's thoughts shifted.Why would Dan be playing now? He had not practiced for three weeks and usually waited until the evening. His train of thought was confused further when the smooth transition of notes became clumsy plops of random notes. Then a cacophonous medley of sorts. Oh, Phil pondered, I think Dil has discovered the piano. Phil dressed and ventured up the stairs to Dan's piano room. The door was shut and the sour notes continued to sound from the room, until, once again a mellifluous string of notes followed. Phil tentatively turned the knob and looked into the room, stepping quietly.

The scene revealed made Phil giggle to himself. Dil sat in Dan's lap, leaning forward and reaching toward the ivory keys while Dan attempted to guide his chubby little fingers along the right notes. Dil's eyes were vibrant with excitement and curiosity at this new discovery that he was fortunate enough to have (mostly) to himself. Suzie was content in the corner of the room, crayons scattered on the carpet and coloring book open in front of her, the tip of her tongue peeking out from the side of her mouth in concentration. She laid on her stomach, legs up in the air and swishing back forth back forth. Her forehead was crinkled with determination. She was a serious artist.

Phil's heart melted and he couldn't help but laugh as Dan once again picked up Dil's hands to try and position them on the keys, but Dil stubbornly smashed his hands wherever they landed. Dan's patience was beginning to wear thin. At the sound of Phil's musical laugh which contrasted the reckless piano bashing, Dan turned his head to find Phil laughing and smiling to himself in the corner.

“Wot?” Dan asked, a defensive tone raising his pitch.

Phil shook his head and giggled again.

“What?” Dan persisted, tone more serious the second time.

Phil's arm hugged his middle as he tried to control the chuckle seizing his belly.

“What are you doing?” Phil questioned, pitch higher with each word.

Dan kept an arm around a giddy Dil, still poking and smashing keys intermittently.

“Thought I would teach him some piano,” Dan's face shifted as if he suddenly understood how silly that sounded. Yeah, nothing like giving your toddler piano lessons, “you know, gotta start 'em early and all,” he finished.

Phil's giggle bubbled from his throat again, just as a loud F sharp interrupted.

“It's cute,” Phil commented, and Dan smiled in response.

Phil entered the room fully and hovered behind Dan, watching Dil's chubby hands navigate the otherwise sophisticated instrument. Dan's legs bounced Dil up and down as Phil leaned down to peck Dil's brunet waves.

“I'll leave you to it, then. At this rate maybe we’ll have star pianist someday,” Phil teased.

He turned his face to Dan's and pressed a gentle kiss to Dan's temple, earning two smiles as Dil squealed excitedly and Dan looked up to read Phil's expression. Satisfied with what he found, Dan turned back to Dil.

“Okay, now we'll start with middle C…”

Phil turned on his heels and headed down the stairs to make lunch.

4. so let’s sit by an English river til the water runs dry / There is nothin' that we've done wrong that can't be made right / We’re neither saints or sinners so leave your history behind / Let’s grab a bottle and take it one day at a time

Phil had come home to a shockingly quiet house. Two little kids never allowed for this and Phil raised his eyebrows in surprise as he peered into the front room. It was only mid-morning and Dil would normally be running around and playing boisterously. But this time as he greeted his home once again, he found no stumbling toddler, no toys scattered around the lounge, no delightful screams bouncing off the walls. Silence.

Phil shrugged off his jacket to hang by the front door as he pondered what made this environment so magically quiet this morning. Phil felt satisfied in that moment; he had just come home from walking Suzie to school without any incident and though the air was getting chilled and the weather a little more dreary, the walk was pleasant and the air was crisp. He listened to Suzie's silly babbling as she recounted her adventures from her first year in school. Her voice was calming to listen to; she chirped as she skipped along the pavement and occasionally reached up to hold Phil's hand, warming his heart all the way through his jacket. She was lovely and the sweetest little girl Phil could have ever imagined even though things weren't always easy. Today she had skipped off to school with no problem when he dropped her off and cheerfully made her way inside. Phil was just relieved that everyone survived the morning.

Phil stepped into the lounge, turning his head in search of Dan or Dil, but to no avail. Nothing in the kitchen. No sound from the piano room. No one in the office. Finally Phil creaked open his bedroom door and glanced around the room. Dan was lying in bed still, sheets wrinkled around his legs, sweatpants lazily slipped over his legs. But contrary to earlier, Dil sat on Dan's bare chest, giggles sounding through his tiny body. His eyes were covered with his delicate hands before he suddenly revealed them and exclaimed to Dan, “boo!” Dan feigned a shocked face immediately, “aah!”

Dil erupted in giggles all over again, and he moved to cover his eyes a second time as if he were teaching Dan this game. Phil laughed just as Dil's hands flew from his eyes again, “boo!” and Dan acted surprised. Dil squealed laughter. At the sound of Phil laughing and approaching the bed, Dan turned his head to greet his spouse.

“Look, Dil! Papa's home,” Dan explained, somewhat unnecessarily as Dil was already reaching up with grabby hands for Phil to pick him up.

Phil's arms wrapped up Dil and he held him close to his chest.

“Papa! Daddy game!”

Phil ruffled Dil's frizzy brunet waves, “I see that! You played a game with Daddy?”

Dil nodded his head and held an arm around Phil's neck, “Yes! Play game!”

Phil grinned from ear to ear, matching Dil's joyful expression.

Dan piped up, “You survived the walk to school, then?” A teasing tone rose from his voice, smirk deepening his dimples.

Phil caught on immediately.

“Yep! Feel like I could run a mile! Two miles!” he expressed as he glanced at Dil for a moment. And as they met each other's eyes, they both laughed.

Dil laughed, too, if only to imitate his dads, and clearly was in a good mood. Phil sat on the bed and toed his shoes off as he sat Dil in between himself and Dan. Dil already began experimenting with his game as Phil settled into the mattress. He leaned down to press a kiss just above Dan's eyebrow, and Dil became louder the less the attention was on him. Dan reached to pull Phil further down for another chaste kiss just as Dil yelled “boo!” It was Phil's turn to feign absolute shock at the outburst and Dil laughed at his facial expression, delighted that his game was eliciting this reaction. Dan and Phil simultaneously grinned at each other, feeling airy and blissful in this moment.

They were content just like this. The silly, intimate moments mattered just as much as the intimidating, life-changing ones. Moments such as these defined Dan and Phil's life now: playing with the kids, taking short breaks when they could, teaching them, walking them to school, watching them grow. Moments to get married, to buy a new house, to move, to adopt kids were monumental. But they would not compare to playing peek-a-boo, letting the kids play the piano, napping together after an exhausting afternoon. Times when things were peaceful. Times when Dan and Phil knew they had the world. Right here. In the hands of their little ones and each other. And here they were: taking things one day at a time.

A/N #2 is inspired by this tweet from @hey-laura

#3 and #4 inspired by this and this art

#phanfic #parent!phan #fluff #daniel howell #phil lester #hope you enjoy!#sam smith #one day at a time #songs and fics #new tag aayyy #anyway i was so unmotivated lately #but finally i wrote something #so hopefully you like it #laurenwrites

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banshee-cheekbones · 7 years ago

Photo

and we’re back with round two! like it says on the tin, this is a complete list of what I’ve written between the beginning of April and the end of June!

some statistics:

total number of fics: 67

total number of fandoms: 12

total word count: 75,925

most common pairing: Malia/Kira and Betty/Veronica are both tied with four fics a piece!

and now, for the fics!

American Gods

a conversation long overdue. Audrey/Laura. 1615 words. Rated T. ao3. “You know, it didn’t have to be Robbie. It could have been you, just as easily, if you’d been the one to pick up the phone. If you’d been the one to come over and deal with the fucking cat.”

energetic praise you wanted. Bilquis/Media. 250 words. Rated M. ao3. "Oh, honey," she says, words ghosting over Bilquis' swollen flesh. "I'm afraid that isn't going to work on me."

rage looks good on you. Audrey/Laura. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. "You are the most selfish bitch in the entire universe."

Borderlands

a high degree of caution. Lilith/Mad Moxxi. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. "You know, this is definitely on the list of things most people don't screw around with."

Crossover

Intermission. Allison Argent (Teen Wolf) / Jo Harvelle (Supernatural). 250 words. Rated T. ao3. "You know, I could have taken that vamp on my own."

Gotham

a little healthy competition. Barbara/Tabitha. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. "I bet that I can make you come before they finish their set."

Hannibal

Decoy. Alana/Margot. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. For the time being, using Will as a decoy is the best option available to them.

once, twice, three times. Beverly/Molly. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. Beverly has never been much of a believer in the concept of soulmates.

Jane Got A Gun (2016)

weak spot (everybody has one). John Bishop/Vic Owen. 1248 words. Rated M. ao3. “If you cannot hold your tongue, I will cut it out of your head.”

Logan (2017)

change of plans. Donald Pierce/Logan. 3655 words. Rated T. ao3. When Logan refuses to give Pierce the girl, Pierce decides to tell him a secret.

how to fall through the cracks. Donald Pierce/Logan. 3245 words. Rated M. ao3. Pierce and Logan have met before, in an El Paso bar in the early hours of the morning. Logan just doesn't remember.

threat assessment. Donald Pierce/Logan. 5268 words. Rated M. ao3. Pierce and Logan have met before, in an El Paso bar in the early hours of the morning. Logan just doesn't remember.

Pierce, on the other hand, remembers everything.

Power Rangers (2017)

comfort above all else. Kimberly/Trini. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. "Are any of those clothes yours?"

no sign of movement. Kimberly/Trini. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. "Trini," she says for the eighth time, "we're going to be late if you don't move."

the thing that lives in the dark. Rita Repulsa/Trini. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. All small towns have their own sets of tales, their own legends passed down through generations. Angel Grove is no different.

Wrong Number. Kimberly/Trini. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. A little miscommunication with the boys means that Trini and Kim have half an hour to themselves.

Preacher

Sacrilegious. Emily/Tulip. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. Emily is fairly certain that what she's doing counts as an act of sacrilege.

Riverdale

an unspoken promise. Betty/Veronica. Rated G. ao3. Veronica has been given enough jewelry in her life to recognize a necklace box when she sees it.

Betrothal. Cheryl/Polly. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. The footsteps stop on her left, and when she glances left through the netting of her veil, she's met with a glimpse of vivid red hair. It belongs to a Blossom, there's no doubt about that, but it's the wrong Blossom.

do you do more than dance? Betty/Cheryl. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. Cheryl Blossom is dancing on a table in a fire-red bralette and pleated skirt, and she won't stop staring at Betty.

feels like the first time. Alice/FP. 3380 words. Rated E. ao3. On a hot summer night by the shores of Sweetwater River, after senior year comes to an end, Alice and FP find a moment of bliss.

find a home for your love (home isn’t always a place). Alice/FP/Fred. 5407 words. Rated E. ao3. Sometimes, a threesome isn't just a threesome. Sometimes, it's a plea for something more

hit me (where you want it). Betty/Cheryl. 250 words. Rated E. ao3. Cheryl doesn't know where the cane originally came from, but she does know that Betty knows how to use it.

Hitch. Betty/Cheryl/Veronica. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. "Let Veronica eat you out."

how to keep a secret. Alice/Hermione. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. Hal has no idea that she's been intermittently fantasizing about Hermione Lodge since high school.

just keep your eyes on me. Betty/Veronica. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. It's not that Betty is afraid of heights. Really. She's not.

one day (i’ll kiss it all away). Betty/Veronica. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. Veronica is thirteen when she starts feeling her soulmate's pain.

peel it all back. Alice/Hermione. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. At initial glance, Alice Cooper's entire life is the definition of neat.

running interference. Alice/Hermione. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. The supply closet of the White Wyrm is not made for make-out sessions.

somewhere in her smile. Hermione/Mary. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. "We could be like them," she says, lowering her gaze to where Mary's fingers are clasped in her lap. "Like FP and Fred. If you wanted to."

stages of healing. FP/Fred. 1509 words. Rated T. ao3. FP’s hands have been scarred for as long as Fred can remember.

vow of silence. Betty/Veronica. 250 words. Rated E. ao3. "We have to be quiet."

Supernatural

savor the present. Anna/Jo. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. The last time Jo saw her, Anna was 19. The time before that, she was 32. Next time, she might be 70 or 4. There's no way to predict.

Stress Relief. Meg 2.0/Ruby 1.0. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. "Get yourself a new meatsuit?"

swallow it down. Meg 2.0/Ruby 1.0. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. "Sex pollen? Are you kidding me?"

Vacation Plans. Castiel/Dean. 965 words. Rated M. ao3. Written for the prompt “cas/dean - cas walks in on dean jerking off OR vice versa :D."

Teen Wolf

a day in the sun. Peter/Stiles. 494 words. Rated G. ao3 & tumblr. Peter can think of about a dozen different places that he'd rather be off the top of his head, but it was Stiles' turn to pick where they went for their weekly Saturday date, and as much as Peter likes upsetting traditions, there are some things that he simply can't be bothered to go against.

all the amenities of home. Allison/Kira/Lydia. 1879 words. Rated E. ao3 & tumblr. Established polyamory, sex tapes, masturbation and facesitting.

any way you want it (that’s the way you need it). Malia/Kira. 2429 words. Rated E. ao3 & tumblr. Malia wants to know how to make Kira feel good. The obvious solution is to watch her masturbate.

Begin Transmission. Derek/Stiles & Isaac/Scott. Completed WIP. 26 chapters, 11 added since first quarter. 55,178 words total, 19,346 added since last quarter. Rated E. ao3. After the events with the alpha pack and the darach, Stiles is thrust into his new role as the emissary for Scott’s pack. It’s a demanding position, one that requires years and years of study.

bite down, bite down (into me). Allison/Stiles. 1036 words. Rated E. ao3 & tumblr. Allison Argent is the furthest thing from a werewolf, but you wouldn’t know that from how eagerly she sinks her teeth into Stiles’ flesh.

Cold Comfort. Laura/Lydia. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. The scream tears Lydia out of sleep, rips her out of a dream that she immediately forgets.

Comfort Food. Malia/Kira. 414 words. Rated G. ao3 & tumblr. Malia is standing in front of her locker, one hand crumpled into a fist at her side, the other clutching a sheet of paper that's nearly torn in half. There's a deep dent in the door of the locker, so deep that Kira is surprised the metal didn't completely break. Malia's breathing is loud and uneven, and Kira approaches her slowly, not wanting to surprise her.

Contentment. Braeden/Kira. 544 words. Rated G. ao3 & tumblr. Braeden's never been particularly fond of sharing her things with others, but for almost five years, Kira has been the exception, particularly when it comes to clothes.

Exchange. Braeden/Laura. 500 words. Rated G. ao3. Breaking into Hale Industries is a cakewalk.

Firelight. Kira/Lydia. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. The slur in Kira's voice is soft but distinct, and Lydia glances down at her tipsy girlfriend, who is stretched out with her head in Lydia's lap.

hiding in plain sight. Erica/Kali. 500 words. Rated T. ao3. "Should have left town when you had the chance, Kali."

it comes seeping in (when you close your eyes). Allison/Nogitsune. 1328 words. ao3. The other girl’s eyes, her eyes, are very black, impossibly black, and when Allison stares at them, she has the distinct feeling that the ground underneath her feet is tilting, that she’s about to fall into a deep hole that she’ll never be able to claw her way out of.

just the two of us. Boyd/Erica. 2431 words. Rated G. ao3 & tumblr. The one where Erica gets a cold at college, Boyd comes to take care of her, and love confessions happen.

make some noise. Laura/Stiles. 527 words. Rated E. ao3 & tumblr. The real reason she'd opted out of the trip was because of Stiles, because she wanted to be loud in her own bedroom for once.

Nightcall. Parrish/Stiles. 1680 words. Rated T. ao3 & tumblr. Jordan can count on one hand the number of times he’s worked a quiet night shift since moving to Beacon Hills.

(Or, the one where on-duty phone sex is almost a thing, but a collapsing shelf gets in the way.)

nothing but sun and sand. Malia/Kira. 1210 words. Rated G. ao3 & tumblr. On the first day of their week-long vacation, Kira and Malia share a moment of quiet down by the ocean.

only oceans can separate us. Cora/Lydia. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. "You should get to bed soon, babe."

put the past behind you. Lydia/Malia. 250 words. Rated G. ao3 & tumblr. "I know this is weird for both of us, and I know you don't wanna talk about it. Do you wanna get drunk and make out in the bathroom instead?"

rate your pain. Allison/Stiles. 438 words. Rated T. ao3 & tumblr. "On a scale of one to ten, how much do you think this is going to hurt?"

ripped to shreds. Laura/Stiles. 386 words. Rated T. ao3 & tumblr. And, also like her, he wants to rip off Kate Argent's head.

sands of time. Noshiko/Marie-Jeanne & Allison/Kira. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. In the 900 years of her life, Noshiko has had relationships with more people than she can count.

seasons change (but people don’t). Malia/Kira. 2340 words. Rated G. ao3 & tumblr. The one where Malia hates airports but is willing to brave the chaos so that she can finally meet Kira in person.

sway. Allison/Malia. 250 words. Rated G. ao3 & tumblr. Malia is never drinking again.

sync up the cuts (to the bass drum kick). Laura/Stiles. 581 words. Rated G. ao3 & tumblr. Watching Laura perform is like watching a tornado decimate a town.

Territorial. Laura/Kali. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. “I thought I told you to get out of my territory.”

the best girlfriend ever. Allison/Stiles. 636 words. Rated G. ao3 & tumblr. “I really hope this doesn’t look as ridiculous as it feels.”

Tighten Up. Allison/Erica. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. "How much time do we have until the game is over?"

Total Control. Allison/Scott/Stiles. 312 words. Rated T. ao3 & tumblr. Allison takes his left wrist, while Stiles' thicker fingers take his right, and as they start winding the scarves (or at least that's what they feel like) around his wrists and the headboard, it becomes clear just how flimsy the fabric is, how easy it would be to tear through it.

The Walking Dead

a loud awakening. Daryl/Jesus. 453 words. Rated G. ao3 & tumblr. His fingers skim over a sun-warmed hip, and he cracks open one eye just long to see Jesus looking down at him with an amused smile on his face, hair loose around his shoulders, bare-chested with a mug of coffee in his hand.

a steady decline. Andrea/Michonne. 250 words. Rated G. ao3. Andrea is getting sicker.

getting caught (ain’t always a bad thing). Daryl/Jesus. 918 words. Rated M. ao3 & tumblr. When Jesus wakes up to an empty apartment on his day off, he decides to use his time in the shower for other purposes.

Proximity. Beth/Carol. 250 words. Rated T. ao3. While the days are growing longer and warmer, the interior of the prison is still cold, especially at night.

#mine #mine: masterlist #twfemslashwritersnet #twfemslashcreatorsnet #when compared to last month i wrote more fics but word count was less #we shall see how the third quarter goes!

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petals42 · 8 years ago

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Lots of small check please ideas: Quidditch au (Slytherins??), things that the nasty couch has seen, "Dex knows everyone's secrets" (take that as you will), the squad signing up for experiments from the psychology classes for some cash (community- esque shenanigans occur), a shared dream, any members of your choosing waking up in like a cornfield or the dumpster at murder stop and shop or Arizona or something drastic after a kegster, has to find out what tf happened... Hope you like something!

(so my new years resolution is to write 1k a day and i still had 500 words left soo.... here’s... whatever this is? a Couch POV? a little over a k)

-----

At the beginning, he hates you and so, as is customary among most sentient creatures, you hate him right back.

He’s small, you gather, and has a southern accent and has hated you from the moment he laid eyes on you so you figure you are at least semi-justified in your hatred.

No. Wait. Not semi-justified. One hundred percent justified.

He literally gasped in horror upon seeing you and called you “a pox on humanity” under his breath when he thought no one could hear and even wasted, will refuse to sit on you. Hell, even when he was concussed and had the other boys rushing around in a tizzy to try to make him feel better, he wouldn’t let them sit him down on you.

Which, rude.

You are a great fucking couch. You would have supported his concussed-ass just fine.

Or maybe you would have stuck a spring into his lower back because how dare he manage to slur out “kee’ me ‘way from that nasty ass couch or so help me” when half-asleep and probably on some pain killers.

You are not a nasty ass couch. You are a great couch. You have supported this hockey team through hours and hours of video games, movies, twelve hour television marathons, make-out sessions, hook ups, day drinking, evening dinners, kegsters, Tuesday nights, and every moment in between. You manage to hold four hockey players at once on most nights and have held up to nine during a Superbowl party. You keep approximately thirty dollars in change safe for them and often the television remote and sure, Shitty still has no less than three school IDs tucked into the cushions but it’s not your fault that he never bothers looking properly for anything before going off to pout to Zimmermann and having him buy him a new ID.

Hell, one time you managed to produce a condom for Holster mid-hook up.

The point is: You do great work. You have been given one of the hardest jobs a couch can have and for the last nine years, you have done. your. job.

So, screw you, tiny freshmen. How dare he judge you.

Of course, then, to add insult to injury (literally, he injured you. He attacked you with a vacuum, ripped a huge hole in your left cushion and then just sighed and flipped it over without even bothering to stitch you up)-- to add insult to injury, somehow the stupid tiny one is invited to move into your Haus.

Which means that now, everyday, you get to hear vague threats about how he is going to get rid of you before he graduates. Talk about an unsafe living environment.

Luckily, Shitty-- you don’t have eyes but context clues tells he has a mustache-- continues to defend you (and, dammit, he’s right. You are a part of history) and the one with the biggest butt (Jack) notes that you work just fine and the fucking giant talks about how he has watched hours of television on you and, sure, the giant’s counterbalance throws you under the bus with some talk of a rash, but overall you vow that you will hate the small one for forever.

At this point, he really should avoid sitting on you because, fuck it, if you are going to be blamed for something, then you might as well do it. If Eric R. Bittle ever sits down on you, you are moving all your lumps into full horrific formation and sending up the dust troops and the spiders don’t always cooperate with you, but you feel confident that you could explain to them that without you, they are out a home and convince them to attack en masse.

You are ready to have your revenge on Eric Bittle.

Of course, there are a few bright spots to the year. Chowder joins the team and he works you into his pregame ritual and even though, you originally wanted to be mean to Chowder because Bitty clearly loves him, you love Chowder more. So you rearrange your stuffing to your Most Comfortable setting and you don’t even grumble too much when he puts his shoes on your left arm and when Chowder drops his keys into the cushions, you try to push them out the front so he finds them easily on the floor.

The only thing you don’t like about Chowder is how much he likes Bitty. You tell yourself that that doesn’t matter. You are still getting your revenge the moment you can.

Of course... Bitty does finally sit on you.

It’s in fall semester and it’s the temperature where the boys haven’t bothered to get out the throw blankets quite yet but you wish they would because it’s a bit drafty in the Haus and can get quite cold when you don’t have hockey players draped all over you.

(Also, Martha and Paul are lovely and it would be nice to catch up.)

(Plus, you think Chowder is getting a bit chilly during his nap and there’s only so much you can do besides try to send all heating agents into the cushions.)

Anyway, Bitty and Jack are in the kitchen, baking something or other, and you are a bit miffed because usually at this time, you and Jack get in some quality chill time (and, look, you are a couch. obviously, you are partial to that booty). But having Bitty around means Jack sits less and now that they are baking, he isn’t around at all and, yup, there it is. Now Jack is saying goodbye to Bitty and heading to his 4PM history class.

Great.

You decide to take a little nap yourself because Holster and Ransom will be back at 5:30 and they haven’t played Halo in a while so you have to get used to that particular brand of sitting, standing, and jumping when quite suddenly, there is a small dent on your right side.

Bitty.

Eric Bittle is sitting down.

His frame is just as small as you imagine and it’s just a shock to your system that you don’t attack right away and because as you take that moment, you notice that he is trembling.

“Oh... oh no.”

His voice is small. You pause in your negotiations with the spiders. He takes a few deep breaths that don’t actually help anything. You can tell. You are a couch. His leg is twitching up and down like Ransom’s usually does when he’s stressed.

“No.” This time it’s stronger. Firm. As if he’s talking to someone. “No, I am not going to do this.”

You wish you had paid more attention to whatever it was he and Jack were talking about in the kitchen. You don’t really know what’s going on.

“Right, then,” he says and he rises. “It’s... it’s fine. I’m fine. I’m not-- I don’t--”

You would believe him more if he didn’t sink right back onto you in the next moment.

He goes silent then and his elbow rests on your right arm and you think he is covering his face with that hand while his other is wedged between his thigh and you.

“He’s a jerk,” he tells himself, unaware that you are listening. “Remember? He was a big old jerk and I don’t like jerks and-- and.... fuck.”

His voice catches then and you were supposed to stick springs into him but instead you find yourself shifting some stuffing around so that he can sink into the corner a little more.

“Jack Zimmermann,” he says to himself. “No. I have a rule. Don’t fall for a--”

He cuts off with a desperate, sad little chuckle and you find yourself wishing that you had a cellphone tucked away. The boys all have each other on their favorites list. You might be able to ring one of them. Though what good that would do isn’t clear at the moment.

“Okay, I’ll just-- it’s fine. Not a big deal. I can just--”

Bitty’s cell phone ringing is so surprising that you almost jump. As it is, you jerk a little bit Bitty leaps to get it and so probably doesn’t notice. You listen as he fumbles for it and then there’s a beat where he stares at it and then--

“Hello, Mama!” His voice is bright and happy and horribly fake, at least to you. “How are you?”

A pause.

“Oh, me? I’m just fine. Right as rain. Been baking and such all afternoon.”

You expect him to get up because Bitty usually paces on the phone, but instead he sinks back into you and on the phone, he sounds good enough, but the fingers of his left hand are rubbing back and forth along the seam of your cushion and his leg hasn’t stopped jumping up and down and there’s something in his voice when he continues:

“Everything’s fine up here, Mama. Nothing new to report.”

You don’t attack.

It doesn’t seem right.

#ooooh writers block #i hit 1k today though #probably more #starting 2017 RIGHT #check please #my fic #check please fanfiction #couch pov #theres a tag i didnt think i would use #a fucking couch pov #someone stop me #also this got a tad angsty?#dont even ask me anymore #misskaterinat

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jaytury-blog · 6 years ago

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10 Signs You Were An Emo Kid

So one thing we’re all guilty of is going through childhood phases that we’re pretty embarrassed to talk about. Whether that being the geeky kid that essentially fantasized over Warhammer figurines to the kid that liked to eat the whiteboard pen in class. We’ve all been there guaranteed, and along the way we’ve picked up and dropped some pretty weird habits and traits. But I’m not here to reminisce about the stickmen animations I used to create on PowerPoint, that’s for another time. This article is aimed more towards those little cliques we found ourselves in during our early school years; cliques which pretty much evolved and shaped our tiny little fragile minds. Our worlds soon opened up and offered things we never even knew existed, whether that being a new weird friend or a music genre that sent shivers down our spines for the first time. It’s true, at some point during our tween years most of us ventured into certain factions, sometimes not by choice, but by fate. Cliques are forever changing and for the life of me I can’t keep track of what they are these days. Something about roadmen and plastics maybe? That rings some sort of bell anyway, who knows? But if you were like me and facing secondary school in the mid-2000’s, then you were most likely left with a choice of two factions, both of which stood at complete opposite ends of the scale. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present, the Chav, and the Emo. Sworn enemies until the dying days of the earth. Perhaps you were one of these and can openly admit it and even laugh about it. Or maybe you’re just too ashamed to confess that this phase was in fact a part of your development as a teen. Maybe you’re in denial. I won’t judge you. The fact is, these factions were a real thing back then, and although the Chav outlived the Emo, we can still learn to laugh and reminisce about those crazy scene days that once ruled our lives each day. So let’s do that. Let’s talk about the old days and what defined ‘The Emo Kid’ May I present to you, 10 Signs You Were An Emo Kid 1. YOU HATED EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING So I’ll start off with the obvious one here, and that is that you most likely hated everyone you knew, minus your other Emo comrades of course. I’ll just come out and say this, but did you hate your teacher? Your parents? Your pets for no particular reason? Did they do something you didn’t like, regardless of how little it was? Was their smiles too wide for your everyday mundane life? If you answered yes, then great – you were on your way to Emo-hood. However this one was strange, because deep down I know you probably didn’t hate everyone, but simply because you had the persona of a gravestone and came off as friendly as a brick wall you just kind of stuck with the hatred of positivity. Ever see the Emo kid that always smiled? No? That’s because they weren’t a real Emo kid. A real Emo kid would have kept their heads down, muttered obscenities at anyone breathing that wasn’t one of your friends. You hated everyone through and through, and regardless of what the world had done, you made sure THEY were the problem, not you. 2. THE FRINGE Oh, the fringe; the trademark of the Emo kid that everyone had. You probably reached this point early on and decided if you were going to make it with the opposite sex then you needed to rock the cringe fringe 24/7. Day in, day out you would style your hair for hours, straightening it and burning the hell out of the ends until it was just long enough to cover one eye. The longer your fringe, the cooler you were. That’s just how it was for some reason. It of course, being like your personality, had to be blacker than the soul and thicker than moose’s blood. Your fringe was your baby, and if you wasn’t spending at least half the day correcting it and keeping on top of obscuring one eye then you weren’t a very good Emo kid. Hair was everything, plain and simple.

3. THE STUDDED BELT AND RED SKINNIES

That, as well as the other insane things you used to ‘rock’ like the fingerless gloves or black and

white chequered hoodies.

Whatever you wore, you made sure it was branded with Blue Banana, because that’s essentially the only retailer that did awesome enough stuff for your Emo requirements.

If you were a guy, you thought you could pull off guyliner better than any chick you knew, and no matter the occasion or how far away from your bed you had to go that day, you made sure your eyes were thicker than a pandas regardless.

Before leaving home you made sure you had AT LEAST two studded belts, both diagonally crossed and fastened through only one hole on your jeans.

As for the girls, a not so sturdy pair of fishnet stockings were on the essentials, oh, and also a spare pair to cover your bloody arms for some reason.

Bracelets and bracelets, so many damn bracelets filled your skin right up to your elbows, and why? Maybe to cover the…*cough cough*

Moving on.

4. YOU CAPTIONED EVERYTHING WITH ‘RAWR!’

To this day I still don’t understand it, but maybe you do.

Back in the day when Bebo was alive and everyone used to obsess over mirror selfies with their Sony Ericsson phones, the dinosaur was an iconic thing to the Emo kids.

Don’t ask me why, I don’t have an answer for it.

You used to hold one hand out like a claw and have a mouth like Clint Eastwood, slightly open and aggressive like you were about to annihilate a herbivore.

Each photo had to be angled perfectly just so you’d see the several lip piercings you gathered over the last year or so, and if you could sneak in a tongue piercing somewhere you were at the peak of your image, truly.

You also made sure to ‘own’ everyone else’s photo’s too, which never actually accounted for anything at all.

Thought someone was hot? Comment ‘I own this’ and some incredible thing happened. Nobody knew what the thing was, but it happened alright.

You owned the hottest pics of the day, and it literally meant zilch. Congratulations, you achieved nothing.

5. EMOTION WAS EVERYTHING

If you weren’t a tween basket case going through a mental breakdown for two years straight then you weren’t an Emo kid.

If you broke a smile more than twice a day you were considered one of the happy kids with a happy life and make-believe fairy parents. But if you were a true Emo then you honestly believed your life was the worst thing ever in existence. The world could collapse beneath our feet and it still wouldn’t even put a dent in your day-to-day life.

If you weren’t fighting off the make-believe depression you tried so hard to land yourself with then you were trying to find it, just so you could fight it all over again.

Every day was an emotional rollercoaster for you, and so long as you walked in your Vans shoes, the black cloud would slowly follow behind.

Everything was just terrible, utterly bloody terrible.

Cat died? Terrible.

Girlfriend left? Terrible.

Bus late? Terrible.

No mayo on your sandwich? Terrible.

Your life was just terrible, wasn’t it?

6. THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

So nine times out of ten we dated someone in our social circle, because deep down we felt the connection more and the sparks ignited slightly easier knowing they were just as Emo as you were.

Maybe it’s because you saw them every single day and considered them a friend already, and for that reason, a relationship was on the cards.

Chances are you dated a few people in your group, because let’s face it, when you’re fifteen and open to experimentation for the first time, you’re willing to just go out with everyone to get an idea of how everything works.

Like there was always that one quiet kid who was into the dodgiest stuff that caught you off guard, and if you ever found yourself in a relationship with that certain individual then you’ll know exactly what I mean. It’s weird.

But then there’s the one that got away, the other half of the jigsaw that quite literally ‘rocked your world’ and completed your black little heart. We’ve all been there, I know we have.

A decent length for a relationship back then was about five or six months, but to you that was like an eternity. It was so sacred that everyone knew about it. You were the ‘in couple’ of the crowd. Just how you liked it.

But kids being kids things eventually went spiralling out of control and plummeted to the ground, making you realise how screwed up your world was all over again.

Things ended for a crazy reason you could laugh about these days, but back then you felt like your whole world had come crashing to the ground.

Initiating Emo breakdown number eight thousand and twenty-one.

7. YOU HAD FOUR BANDS ON YOUR MP3 PLAYER

I’ll give this one a straight shot in the dark and you tell me how close I am to hitting home, okay?

Ahem, *cracks fingers*

1. My Chemical Romance

2. Panic At The Disco!

3. Fall Out Boy

4. Linkin Park

Yes? No? Spot on?

Well that was me anyway, and I know for a fact you had at least one of those bands on your crappy little MP3 player at school. Those and a few songs you heard from friends but didn’t quite know the band, so just referred to them as ‘songs that speak to me on a personal level’.

You and a million other Emo kids.

The lyrics were identical to the pain you were feeling on a day to day basis, and if you felt the warm throbbing in your heart when the first piano note of Black Parade played, then you were a part of the 95% of Emo kids that felt the passion for the music aspect of the scene. This was your go-to anthem when somebody asked what music genre you were into. Period.

You were the frontman of the Black Parade every day of the week.

8. YOU PROBABLY HUNG OUT UNDER A BRIDGE

Now I’m not saying you were a gremlin that loitered under a bridge, but you probably did have a hangout spot similar to that, didn’t you? Perhaps the town square that consisted of two benches and a pound shop. Maybe a church cemetery to match the dark aura you surrounded yourself in?

For me it was the town square, which funnily enough consisted of two benches and a pound shop. It was cheap and convenient, and I spent more hours sat there loitering than I did in my own home. If I had spare time, I was there. Smoking, drinking, and overall being a general public enemy to the elderly and working generations.

Shock horror it later budged to the nearby cathedral, because we eventually discovered that the more death surrounding us, the more Emo we were.

If it rained you’d find me cupped under the roof of a Debenhams store, sat in line with thirty other kids thinking we were the coolest dropouts in the county.

We later on figured out we weren’t. We were just a nuisance and an inconvenience for those trying to gain access to the doors of Debenhams.

But maybe this rings true for you as well? Did you have one of these hangout spots? Did you have an Emo home away from home?

9. BEBO. MSN. TUMBLR.

Tumblr, Tumblr, Tumblr – this was your life indoors. This was your second-life where you could break out of your shell without actually having to interact with anyone. If someone asked you you’re hobbies, you’d tell them ‘Tumblr’ and nothing else.

It was a place for you to express yourself through various captioned pictures and dark gruesome quotations. It was your way of saying, “I’m edgy, so what?”

If your Tumblr wasn’t plastered with pictures of Pete Wentz or Gerard Way then you weren’t cool, because those guys were heroes in your books. They were the definition of ‘Rawr’ or something along those lines.

Bebo was of course where it all started, before Facebook became the in-thing and dominated the social market. It was a place to share ‘luv’ and post your classic mirror selfies to the world. You probably had some edgy black profile theme with sparkly skulls and chessboard patterns, right? That’s because you were Emo, and you wanted the world to know it.

MSN was basically Facebook Messenger or WhatsApp except it had all those old quirky school features like webcam chats and classic emoji’s. Plus the cool thing with MSN was you could just have some crazy name like ‘Dark Life <3 Girlfriend <3 RAWR!’ and nobody batted an eyelid. That was just the norm, and it was perfect.

If you spent all your time indoors flicking between the three tabs of the above sites, then there’s a strong chance you were a textbook Emo kid.

10. YOU DESPISED THE CHAV KIDS

If like me you cringed at words like ‘Bruv’ and ‘Danz’ then you probably shared the strong hatred towards the Chavvy kids in school. Unfortunately they took up about eighty percent of the playground, and sadly for the Emo kids, they were unavoidable when trying to go about your day in peace.

You know the kids I’m talking about. The ones who usually wore tracksuits and hand-me-down Reebok classics. They’d usually try and boot a football in your direction if they so much as saw your fringe wave in the wind.

They’d be there when you crossed the field, they’d be there waiting outside your classroom, and they’d be there when you left the school gates at the end of the day. They were always around, doing whatever it took to ruin your day and boast to their mates.

To put it short, they were vile creatures that took pleasure in making your day even worse than it already was.

The Chav’s and the Emo’s were two factions always at war with one another. Two complete opposite ends of the scale. Different music, different hobbies, different vocabulary – everything.

You skate, they kick a ball. You bang your head to MCR, they punch the wall to N-Dubz.

Everything about the two factions was messy, and although they often say opposites attract, this was a case that never would come close without starting a fight.

Chav kids were what made school days so gruelling and dark, but you pushed through in whatever way you could. You stuck by your friends and mocked them from behind the filter of a cigarette. You said nothing and kept your head down, but whilst the fire was dimly lit, the coal was most definitely still burning.

In the end, the Chav outlived the Emo, but I’d like to say we had the last laugh. Because whilst we were socially beneath them in school, we managed to climb above them and realise a phase was just a phase and it was time to grow up in the end. We weren’t thirteen anymore. We were getting older and the greying hairs were inevitable.

The masses of Blue Banana clothing died out and became just like everybody else; mostly suits and ties sadly enough.

The Emo within may not hold as strong a presence anymore, but deep down I know some of us sure as hell still rock out to Black Parade on a regular basis. It’s a piece of us that’ll never die.

The Chavvy phase continues to grow, sometimes into people’s late thirties and beyond.

But the Emo kids will always be able to smile knowing full well they aspired to be more.

The Emo kid may have died in reality, but it will never for once be forgotten in our hearts.

…That is something a true Emo would say. *

So, were you an Emo kid?

Share your memories from this beautiful era below and allow the dark child within you to re-emerge for a while.

Emo kids unite!

- J Tury

#emo #emo girl #emotions #scene #music #article #trend #hair #rock #goth #skinnny #dark #mcr #fob #anime #list #nostalgia #love

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