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yournameoneverypage · 3 years ago

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Moon Over Miami

Anon request; Shawn Mendes x (y/n).

~3.1k

Warnings: Language.

~ * ~

You scowled at your overflowing carry on. You really didn’t want to bring something bigger, because that would mean baggage check and waiting at luggage carousels and that was just a headache waiting to happen.

Shawn was stretched across your bed on his back, tossing a tennis ball in the air and catching it again. “(Y/n), it’s Miami and we’re only going to be there for four days,” he chuckled. “You do not need to pack so many clothes.”

“Yes, I do. You’re a boy; you don’t understand.”

“First off, I am not a boy. I am a man, and a very attractive one at that.”

You rolled your eyes. Even if you wholeheartedly agreed, you were not going to stroke his ego.

“At the very least, lose most of the makeup. You’ll just sweat it off anyway. And you know I like you better without all that gunk on your face.”

“It doesn’t matter what you do or don’t like, now does it?” you snarked.

He sat up and leaned back against the pillows at the headboard. “I just meant that you’re already so pretty, naturally.”

Shawn was always finding little ways to compliment you and, secretly, you loved it, even if it made you blush, even if it was hard to believe some days.

“Fine.” You threw your hands up in the air in frustration. “You pack for me then.”

“Fine. I will.” He stood from the bed and poked your side. “So dramatic,” he teased, dancing his fingertips from ribcage to hip.

You gave him a small shove, and quickly moved out of tickling range (he knew where your most sensitive spots were). You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Don’t stick it out unless you intend to use it,” he smirked.

“Ha! You wish,” you giggled.

~ * ~

You and Shawn.

It was...confusing.

You had first met him five months ago and had become a regular fixture in his life over the past three. You were friends, good friends. Good friends who spent a ridiculous amount of time together. Good friends who flirted. A lot.

There were feelings, definitely on your side, growing stronger every day you spent together, and you were starting to believe there were deeper feelings on his side as well.

Other than outright pressing your lips to his, and you had never really been that forward with anyone, you weren’t sure what to do to tip the scales from friendship and flirtation to more.

You could simply tell him you were falling for him and that you wanted to take your relationship to the next level, but that scared you even more than the thought of kissing him.

~ * ~

Fifteen minutes later, Shawn stood smugly beside you. Your bag was packed neatly, and you were happy with everything he chose (not that you would admit that to him), which showed you he knew you better than you thought he did. There was even enough room left over for accessories.

It shouldn’t have surprised you; he was pretty adept at packing, having been on tour so often.

“Shut up,” you mumbled.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“But you want to.”

Shawn laughed.

You only added two things, just to prove a point.

~ * ~

You may as well have been in Florida with only Brian and Connor for as often as Shawn had been around the first two days.

The trip had started out incredibly.

You took a redeye from LA to Miami. Shawn held your hand during takeoff and landing. It was your first time flying first class; you didn’t care that you slept through most of it.

Shawn had rented a 3-bedroom beachfront bungalow for the long weekend and had ordered a breakfast basket to be waiting for you when you got there. Everyone ate their fill of croissants and muffins and fresh fruit while you sipped your tea and coffee. Afterward you all agreed that a morning nap poolside sounded ideal.

Shawn claimed the double lounger for the two of you. You curled up beside him and he threw a light blanket over both his and your legs. You laid your head on his shoulder and were asleep within minutes.

When you opened your eyes again, after the best nap you may have ever had in your life thus far, Shawn was no longer beside you. You could see him just inside the back door, talking on his phone.

“Hey,” he announced, returning to the patio, after seeing that you, Brian, and Connor had all awoken. “I’m going to catch up with Camila. I’ll text you after lunch; see where you are.”

~ * ~

You didn’t see Shawn again that first day until you were making plans to spend the evening in South Beach for sunset drinks, dinner, and then a pub crawl for even more drinking.

The boys teased you for being such a lightweight. You were blissfully buzzed, which made it easier for you to let your inhibitions go. Shawn was more intoxicated than you were, which made it a lot easier for you to tug him onto the dance floor.

Flush against him while you moved together to the music, fingertips grazing bare skin, it was too easy to forget that you had been upset with him at all.

Spending all afternoon at the Bayside Market in the hot Miami sun, followed by a night of drinking and dancing into the very early hours of the morning had finally caught up with you. By the time you made it back to the bungalow, you were piggyback on Shawn, your sandals dangling from his fingers by the straps.

~ * ~

Day 2 began with three boys nursing hangovers much worse than yours. You did little things to annoy them, on purpose, which was, admittedly, not very nice of you. You knew they’d had enough when they decided to throw you in the pool. When Shawn reached out, laughing, to help you out, you pulled him in instead.

He chased you into one of the corners of the deep end, trapping you between the pool wall and his hard, wet chest, his arms on either side of you. You had to hold onto his biceps to keep yourself afloat, which, from the look in his eyes, was exactly how and where he wanted you.

Your heart was telling you to use this position to your advantage, finally tip those scales, and you might have if it had been the night before when you were a little drunk. Regretfully, you were sober and when you were sober you tended to overthink things. Now that you were sober, he was too close.

You ducked underwater, under his arm, and quickly pulled yourself out of the pool.

~ * ~

Once you were dry and dressed, you dragged Shawn, Connor, and Brian to Wynwood to go on a golf cart tour of the Walls. They had all been to Miami before, more than once, so they had put you in charge of the itinerary.

From Wynwood you made your way to Little Havana.

After a string of late afternoon texts from Camila, Shawn asked if she could join the four of you for dinner. He wanted you to meet her.

They tried their best to be inclusive throughout dinner, and Camila was certainly nice enough, but still you felt like the fifth wheel, the spare, most of the time.

After dinner, Shawn and Camila wandered off together. When it became clear that Shawn wouldn’t be returning to the house with the rest of you, your heart sank. You stewed in your hurt until it became anger.

You understood that Camila was one of Shawn’s best friends, and he hadn’t seen her for a while. You could forgive him for the day before, but this was supposed to be your trip. You, Brian, Connor, and Shawn. D'Artagnan and the Three Musketeers. If all Shawn had wanted to do was hang out with Camila, why had he bothered to invite you at all? You held no grudge against or felt any ill will toward Camila. It wasn’t her fault that Shawn was being a clueless dick.

~ * ~

You were laying on your side, looking out the window of which you forgot to close the blinds. The moon reflected off the still water of the pool that you could see from your room.

You heard the quietest clearing of someone’s throat. You rolled over to see Shawn leaning against the frame of the doorway, bare chested, in soft gray pajama bottoms.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked softly. You couldn’t sleep either, even though you were exhausted.

You really didn’t want to spend the remainder of your time in Miami being angry with him. There were still two days left. You patted the mattress on the empty side of your bed. That was all the invitation he needed.

Shawn crawled into bed beside you, tugged on the open collar of the other half of his pajamas, and chuckled, “Thief.”

“It’s so soft, and it smells like you,” you whispered.

Shawn laid his head on your stomach and you instinctively started to run your fingers through his hair, tugging gently on his curls. You heard him sigh deeply, contentedly, and the next thing you remembered was waking up to the bright morning sun.

~ * ~

You smiled and stretched languidly. Shawn must have made his way back to his own room during the night sometime. You didn’t hear anyone else up and about yet. You decided to surprise the boys by making breakfast.

Brian and Connor stumbled into the kitchen, following the smell of sizzling bacon and strong coffee.

“Is Shawn still sleeping?” you asked.

Connor and Brian exchanged a look. Connor cleared his throat and said, “Shawn isn’t here.”

You didn’t even have to ask where he had gone. Returning to your room you retrieved your phone on the nightstand. You hadn’t bothered to check it when you woke up.

There was a group text from Shawn that read:

Grabbing a workout and then a quick breakfast with Camila. Be back soon.

Brian and Connor were nearly finished eating when Shawn returned, oblivious to what he was walking into. He grabbed a few slices of bacon and sat down to join them at the kitchen island.

“Where’s (y/n)?”

Brian and Connor shook their heads at him. “You can be such a prick sometimes,” Brian said. Both he and Connor then stood and left the room.

Confused, Shawn glanced around and suddenly it all made sense. “Shit,” he said to himself, under his breath.

~ * ~

Shawn stood in your bedroom doorway like he had the night before.

“I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You refused to acknowledge him.

“I didn’t know you were going to make breakfast or I would have been back sooner.”

You wanted to bite at him that he shouldn’t have been gone at all.

You had just pulled on your swimsuit cover up when you turned to him. His eyes snapped from your ass to your eyes. You slipped on your sunglasses, grabbed your beach bag, and said, “Brian, Connor, and I will be on the beach, if you decide you want to join us.” You pushed past him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he replied.

~ * ~

You purposely chose to wear the smallest, sexiest bikini you had with you. It wasn’t one you yourself would have packed but since Shawn had been the one to pack your carry on he must have wanted to see you in it. The day you bought it was a day when you were feeling particularly confident in your body.

By the time Shawn made it down to the beach, he found you in conversation with two young men who weren’t Brian or Connor. You had removed your cover up and stood before them in your tiny white string bikini.

You were laughing at something one of them was saying. Shawn saw you reach out and briefly place your hand on his forearm.

Shawn was unprepared for the surge of violent irritation that nearly overtook him.

He saw you notice him. He bristled when you leaned in and said something in the other man's ear. He watched as you slid the temple tip of your sunglasses between your teeth. He saw you put your hand on your waist and slightly arch your back. He watched as you touched the small pendant of the necklace you were wearing and drew it away from the skin between your breasts.

Shawn hated the way the two men were looking at you. His stomach churned; his muscles tensed; his heart felt too tight in his chest. He couldn't take anymore.

Sidling up beside you, he wrapped his large hand around the nape of your neck, gently yet possessively.

“Oh, hi Shawn,” you said casually, shrugging out of his grip. “Meet my new friends, Chase and Evan.” You smiled at them, fluttering your eyelashes and biting softly on your lower lip.

“Boyfriend?” Chase asked.

“Oh no, Shawn and I are just friends.” You eased closer to Evan and reached out, meaning to touch the bracelet he was wearing, but before you could, Shawn grabbed your wrist.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he gritted through a fake smile, pulling you away.

“Let go of me,” you snapped. He did, immediately. He never had nor would he ever do anything to physically hurt you.

Brian and Connor, having seen more than enough, hurried toward you. They made you and Shawn take a step back.

“What the hell is going on?” Connor exclaimed.

“(Y/n) is being childish,” Shawn growled.

Maybe you were, but you were upset, goddamn it. “Me?! Look who’s talking! You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend! You have no claim on me!”

“You’re both being childish!” bit Brian. “And you’re starting to cause a scene. Get over yourselves and fucking talk like adults. If you can’t, walk away,” he admonished.

Shawn ran a hand through his hair and tugged frustratingly on his curls before storming off.

Brian gestured for Connor to stay with you and he followed after Shawn.

“Why did you have to antagonize him?” Connor questioned.

You glared at him. “This is not my fault. Of course you’re on his side.”

“I am on no one’s side. You’re both at fault, and you fucking know it. Yeah, he’s kind of been an asshole, but you didn’t have to flirt with those guys so brazenly right in front of him.” Connor’s voice softened. “You know how he feels about you, (y/n). You should apologize.”

You were thoroughly abashed but still feeling stubborn. You turned on Connor and said, “I will when he does.”

You put your cover up back on, slipped into your sandals, and grabbed your clutch which held your wallet, your eReader, and your phone. You trusted Connor to bring everything else back to the bungalow for you.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“For a walk. I need to be alone.”

~ * ~

The sun was going down when you returned to the house.

When you walked in the door, Shawn, who had been sitting on the edge of the ottoman, stood, and approached you cautiously. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You were starting to worry us,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry. I needed some time to cool off and to think.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” His relief was palpable. He stepped even closer to you. “I’m sorry. For how I acted and what I said on the beach. It’s inexcusable.”

“I am, too. I should never have purposely tried to upset you.” You unconsciously reached out and ran your fingertips along the V of Shawn’s t-shirt. “That was the first time we’ve ever fought... I didn’t like it.”

He covered your hand with his, flattening your palm against his heart, which you could feel was beating quite quickly. “Come and have dinner. It’s time to stop thinking and start talking.”

He smirked and began walking backward, hand still over yours.

It was that smirk that set your heart thumping. You followed, curiously, anxiously.

On the back patio was a romantic table set for two, surrounded by tea lights and lit candles.

“Shawn? What’s going on?” you asked, breathlessly.

He crossed to the table and pulled one of the chairs out for you. “Sit, Love. Eat.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“What?” He felt as if his heart might break.

“Too many butterflies.” You softly bit your bottom lip.

“Oh,” he breathed.

“Can we talk first?”

“Of course.”

You walked over to and sat down on the outdoor sectional.

Shawn dropped down beside you with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, (y/n). I’ve been, well, an asshole seems to be the overall consensus. I shouldn’t have ditched you to spend so much time with Camila.”

“I know you’re close,” you said, “and I know it had been awhile since you’d seen her. I tried to be understanding.”

“No,” he interrupted, “this is on me. This was supposed to be our trip. You, Brian, Connor, and me.”

“D'Artagnan and the Three Musketeers,” you said in unison and you both laughed.

Shawn leaned closer you. “Do you want to know the truth?” he asked, as if it was the greatest secret he held, which, to him, it was. “She was talking me through my feelings for you.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “She made it very clear to me that I was ‘estúpido’ for spending time with her instead of the person I should be, for talking through my feelings with her instead of with the one I really needed to talk with.”

“You have feelings for me?” you breathed, feeling your entire body flush, not just your cheeks.

Shawn laughed softly and took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. “It’s not obvious? I was jealous of those other guys because I want to be the boyfriend. I want the right to call you mine... I’m falling in love with you, (y/n). Which is insane since we haven’t even kissed yet. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to; every time I see you I want to kiss you.”

Without warning, you pressed your lips to his. It took him not even a moment to respond, pulling you onto his lap and cupping your face. Kissing Shawn was even better than you had ever imagined it would be.

When finally you eased away from him, breathless, you confessed, “I’m falling in love with you too, Shawn. I want you to be mine. I want to be only yours.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you whenever I want to?” he whispered, grinning happily.

“Over and over and over again,” you breathed.

His lips once more met yours. Your hands encircled the nape of his neck. Tender and unhurried turned deep and delicious.

Your lips left his with an audible ‘aʘa’ and you giggled. “Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

Shawn’s answering laugh, rich and lightsome, was everything.

~ * ~

@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you

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hammah-head-shark · 3 years ago

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[Gonna talk abt Armin Arlert in a lot of detail and a lot of words lol, also spoilers for season 1-4 ig? Also trigger warning for gun imagery]

Just thinking about Armin and how he has somehow managed to be my absolute favourite character OF ALL TIME since 2017, which is so strange to me because he is not the type of character that I’d usually be interested in when it comes to other shows?

Usually my favourite characters are the “comic relief” characters who also have an underlying complexity when it comes to their emotions and what they go through (Sokka is obviously a great example of this), as well as himbos/borderline hunks (I am a simple person, I see big kind dummy and fall in love - Hairo from saiki, Sidon from botw (who is probably more on the Hunk side of the spectrum but still), BOLIN, Kirishima) and also I like the “Underdog” characters too!

Tbh maybe that’s what it is about Armin? I’d say he is introduced as the underdog - yk he’s picked on as a child for being a nerd, small and weak, and then when he’s training in the cadets, he’s mentioned as not being all that skilled and doesn’t seem like he fits in with the other cadets. But then you see him come up with a plan to save his squad with the muskets (or whatever those guns were??) in season 1 and you see him figure out the female titan’s identity and all of these other things that make him strong in a different way to the others and it’s just like- seeing him be in his element and coming up with plans and being insightful and observant!

(And as I’m writing this I’m realising the similarities between him and Sokka, so maybe Armin being my all time favourite does make sense lol)

He’s also an “underdog” in a more meta-sense because I think out of the Eren/Mikasa/Armin trio, he is not the fan favourite lol. So maybe he’s my favourite out of spite for the other two because clearly Eren and Mikasa are favoured over Armin and I wanna be ✨quirky and different✨ by choosing the character who is the least popular (look I chose Team Instinct when I had Pokémon GO instead of Team Mystic or Team Valor out of spite because Team Instinct was so widely CLOWNED ON so I decided to be spiteful and pick it lmao)

I guess when you look at the surface of Armin’s character he just seems like every cliché nerdy shy character who’s sorta only smart and that’s it - but he is so much more than that and I just adore him so much.

Like he has dreams (and his biggest dream was accomplished in season 3!!! That whole scene where the squad is at the beach made me so fuckin happy and it was so beautifully animated and drawn and my heart just melted tbh) but also his confidence grows and he does things that I think other characters don’t have the guts to do (e.g. manipulating bertholdt with Annie LMAO) and he’s so fuckin selfless !! He literally almost got himself killed trying to save Jean in season 2 where he’s- fighting off that titan with his sword and Jean is like unconscious and then he saves Jean again in season 3 where he pulls out a gun on that woman on the cart like !! He’s prepared to sacrifice himself to help others (… episode 54 … </3 breaks my heart so much)

(I made my own version of this image lmfao vvv)

He’s a lot stronger than people would think, and he deserves so much more appreciation because he’s amazing !!!

Not to mention, he’s so goddamn PRETTY

Anyways it’s past 2am rn and I’m working tomorrow lol so I should probably end my lil ted talk on my opinions of Armin pfff

Ily Armin never change xoxo

#aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #armin #armin arlert #Armin aot #Armin snk #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #anime

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years ago

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Betty//tell me something nice, like flowers and blue skies

Request:��Can I request a Reader/Betty with the song I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend by Girl In Red, maybe reader pines over Betty how she pines over Archie

hey! before i ramble trigger warning: i don’t really know how to describe it, so there’s like a nightmare bit and people aren’t really nice about the reader being gay, so if that upsets you don’t read. anyway! it’s loving women hours (when is it not?) as i’m writing this its october, so it’s officially girl in red season! happy holidays gays!

Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews and Y/n L/l/n. The three musketeers of Riverdale. Wherever one of them went, the other two followed.

You have lived next door to each other, since before any of you were even born. Your moms went to baby classes together, your dads let you play in the back yard while the three of them enjoyed a beer. There was never a day that at least two of you weren’t together.

Every birthday party was spent showing presents off and eating far too much cake. And every weekend sleepover was spent giggling way into the night and eating junk food, only to be told off by one of your moms. You would plan countless pranks that Polly would always be on the receiving end of, and then when the three of you were inevitably grounded for ruining another thing of hers, you’d hang out of your bedroom windows to wave at each other.

As the three of you grew older, your parents thought you would grow apart. All three of you developed new interests and personalities, but despite everything you stuck together. Promising to go through High School by each others side.

But then disaster struck. Hormones got the better of one of you and suddenly Betty was pining over Archie. Which was bad news for all three of you.

Because while Archie was all Betty wanted, he wanted everybody but her. He even tried it on with you once, it ended awfully and you both vowed never to speak of it ever again.

You don’t know how many hours you’ve spent sat on her bed while she watched Archie from her bedroom window, despite you telling her how creepy it is.

At first it was kind of boring. You just watched her, watch him and then you’d listen to her mope, tell her he’ll realize soon and then go home. But then it stopped being boring and something shifted. You found it more hurtful?

Like whenever she would talk about him in that lovestruck tone, it felt like your something twisting your lungs. You found yourself stuttering over your words when she talked to you. Your cheeks would heat up whenever she was in close proximity of you, and if she touched you, even if it was just a light graze of her fingers over your own, your mind would go blank and busy all at once.

You found yourself sneaking glances at her whenever she wasn’t looking, or trying your hardest to make her laugh, even if it meant making yourself look like an idiot. She was the last thing you thought of when you went to sleep, the first thing you thought of when you woke up and she was every other thought in between.

The littlest of interactions between you had you overthinking. What did that smile mean? Why did she ask just you to hang out and not Archie too? Is she trying to tell you something? Was that goodbye wave just a goodbye wave or was it something else? And that goodnight text? Was there a tone to it?

It was only when she rang you at 2am to ask you what you thought Archie meant by ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’, did you realize.

You’d fallen for your very straight best friend.

fuck

Nobody knew you were into girls. Not even you were aware of it until her.

Until she made you look forward to going to school because that meant you’d get to see her. Until she made you feel like the most important girl in the world when she smiled at you. Until she made butterflies swarm in your stomach whenever she so much as looked at you.

But she always talked to Archie before you first thing in the morning. She always smiled brighter at Archie, and she always looked away far too soon.

Even if had beed years since she’s first fallen for him and she’s dated Jughead in between. You could tell there was still something there between them.

Just look at me the same

Riverdale is a small town, people talk and people judge. So for now, you’ll stay in the very comfy closet your in.

You’re graduating soon so you just have to keep in a secret for another four months. That’s totally do-able.

But then again you and Betty have applied for the same college’s so who knows what going to happen then. Maybe you’ll find a girl there that you’ll fall for.

But there’s nobody like Betty Cooper.

There never was and there never will be.

She’s the only good thing to come out of this place. Even after everything she’s been through, they’re usually things you’ve also been dragged into by either her or Archie, but she always comes out the other side stronger.

She’s a force to be reckoned with.

She’s wonderful.

If you tell people that you were into woman, then there’s a chance that Betty might find out you like her and you definitely don’t want that.

So you’ll continue secretly pining and looking way too much into things.

You’ll continue to listen to her talk about Archie or Jughead or whoever she likes this week, in exactly the same way you think about her.

You’ll lie next to her at Friday night sleepovers and try to keep your breathing normal as she cuddles into the side of you. You’ll stop yourself brushing hair from her face, from stroking her arm gently and from pressing gentle kisses to her head.

You stop yourself from doing all of those things and just lie there. Letting the darkness envelop you as she snores softly beside you. And when you eventually fall asleep she’s there too, but something’s off.

She’s looking at you all wrong. Everybody is. They’re looking at you like you’ve done something wrong. Archie and Betty stand hand in hand, and they glare at you. The world around you twists and warps, you try and get closer to them, to ask whats wrong but they just keep jumping further and further away. And then she tells you, she knows. She knows everything, about the way you feel, how you think of her and she’s looking at you like you’re a stranger. They all are and the world becomes tighter around you and its getting harder and harder to breath an-

“Y/n?!”

You eyes snap open and you sit upright, gasping for breath.

Betty stares at you, eyes full of panic as she moves to sit in front of you. She flicks the lamp on as she moves and the room is flooded in a soft orange glow. The duvet bunches around you and she moves it down to allow you to breathe and cool down.

“Breathe. You’re okay. It’s okay. I’m here.” She says, her voice firm but soothing. Her hands rest on your shoulders and you force yourself to nod, and slowly start to breathe properly. “Are you okay?” She asks, her voice now a lot less panicked and a wave of embarrassment rolls over you.

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Just a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She lies back down and you follow apprehensively.

“No thanks.” You mumble and move your pillow.

In times like this its good that you have shared trauma. It means if you get bad dreams about your best friend finding out you like her, thats not the first thing she assumes.

She probably thinks its got to do with the Gargoyle King, or that night you were hunted through the woods. Or when you went to Lodge’s Lodge and got robbed. Veronica had insisted that it was couple’s only but Betty had fought for you to come. Saying that if her and Archie were both away you’d be alone. Plus, the three of you come as package. You want one, you get all of them.

You shuffle backwards towards the wall, trying to put as much space between the two of you as you possibly can. She doesn’t seem to get your hint and just moves closer to you, slinging her arm over your waist and you feel goosebumps rise over your skin.

Your eyes flutter shut but the dark and distorted world you were previously trapped in plays behind your eyes like a really bad horror movie and so they snap open again.

You hold in a gasp once you notice how close she is to your, your foreheads barely touching, her blonde hair sprawled out on the pillow and the ends tickle your face.

“You okay?” She mumbles and opens an eyelid to look at you.

“I just don’t think I can sleep right now.” You reply causing her to frown and look at you properly. She props her head up with her head and her hair falls around her face as she angles her head to look at you properly.

You want to kiss her.

She’s right there so you could. She’s lying in front of you and she’s giving you a look you’ve never seen directed at you before.

You could just lean up and kiss her. You wonder if it will feel like how you’ve imagined. If her lips are as soft as they look and if you’ll still be able to feel them long after you’ve stopped. If the feeling will engrain itself into your memory, becoming impossible to forget. If her hands will hold your own or if they’ll settle on your cheek or in your hair. Will she be cautious as she kisses you or will it be the most sure she’s ever felt about something?

You want to kiss her until you lose your breath.

You want to get lost in her and for her to get lost in you. Until this is the only thing either of you know.

“Tell me something nice.”

“Like Archie’s hair today. Because it was really nice. I think he spent a little longer on it today but it was worth it. It looked very soft...very ginger.”

“No.” You laugh.

She’s gone back to Archie for this week and even if it does hurt, its a little comforting. It reminds you of when she first went on like this, you were unaware of your feelings then. You were just hanging out with your friend while she pined for your other one. There was no feelings to mess it up, at least not on your end.

Now you’re almost three years into this and there’s been more complicated emotions and plot twists than a teen drama. More moping than a Smiths song.

The internet is obsessed with the mutual pining trope, it’s romanticized beyond belief. And in a way you’re in one, the only problem is she’s pining for the wrong person, maybe so are you.

“Like flowers and blue skies.” You add after a few seconds of silence and a soft smile settles on her face.

“Okay. Come here.” She stretches her arms out towards you and you reluctantly shuffle towards her.

She squeezes you tightly before lying back down properly, her arms are wrapped around you and her chin rests on your head. You feel the steady beat of her heart and you hope she can’t feel your erratic one.

“Can you remember last Christmas?” She asks and you hum in agreement. “It was Christmas day, me, you and Archie got together in Archie’s backyard to do our annual present swap. It was freezing, but the sky was the bluest it had been for months. There wasn’t a cloud in sight and the sun was brighter than the previous summers.”

“It had been snowing.” You reply. “And we threw snowballs at Archie.”

“Yeah.” She laughs. “Archie threw one back, but it was more ice than snow and it hit me right on the nose.”

“I thought he’d broken your nose with the amount of blood.” You laugh.

“You took me home and made sure I was okay.”

“Of course I did.” You mumble, your voice sleepy. “I’d do anything for you.” You add, your voice muffled by a yawn.

“What?” She asks but you shake your head.

“Nothing.” You reply. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mom so confused.”

“So would you be if your kid and her friend were stood on the porch, one of them with blood pouring out of their nose and the other with blue lips almost the same shade as the sky.”

“Fair enough.” You laugh. “Hey, what are you getting for Archie for Christmas this year?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs. “What about you?”

“I dunno, thats why I was asking you.” You reply and the two of you giggle quietly. “What do you want for Christmas?”

“A boyfriend.”

“Gross.” You mumble and she looks at you annoyed.

“What do you mean gross?”

“I mean...gross.”

“Shut up. You’ll understand when you get a boyfriend.”

“I highly doubt thats gonna happen.” You mutter making her frown and move to look at you.

“Don’t think like that.” She cups your cheeks in her hands and you feel your face heating up under the intensity of her stare. “You are so pretty. You’re the prettiest girl I know. Any boy would be lucky to have you.”

“Yeah, okay.” You snort and she sends you a look but decides not to say anything.

“Do you like anybody at the minute?” She asks, her chin resting back on your head and your breath hitches as you try and figure out the best way around this. It’s too late though, she heard you and now she’s staring at you wide-eyed with a bright grin on her face. “Oh my God. You do. You so like someone.”

“No, I er. No I don’-”

“Who is it. You have to tell me. I tell you everybody that I like.”

“I know.” You mumble making her glare at you.

“Please. I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Do I know them?”

“No.” You shake your head.

“Okay, So I know them.”

“But I just said you didn’t.”

“I know. But I can tell when you’re lying. We’ve been friends for 18 years, I know all your tells.” She says.

A lump sits in your throat and you try your hardest to swallow it.

fuck

“So I know them?”

“No.” You sigh and lie down properly. “There’s no point in trying to guess because I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Why not?” She pouts and flops beside you, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Because. Plus, there’s no point in telling anyone because they don’t like me back.”

“How do you know? Have you asked them?”

“No, bu-”

“So how do you know?”

“Because I’m really not their type.” You say. It’s more to yourself than to her but neither of you seem to get the hint.

“You never know.” She argues.

“Believe me I do. So can we just drop this and go to sleep.” You snap.

Her happy expression disappears as she looks at her hands and you feel your chest tighten.

“Yeah sorry.” She whispers.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“Its fine.” She shakes her head and turns to look at you.“I shouldn’t have pushed it. But before I drop it forever, for the record, whoever it is is an idiot for not liking you.” She says sincerely and you send her a small smile.

The two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, and your sure her gaze drops to your lips for a split second. But then you hear a bang on the bedroom door followed by her mom telling you to go to sleep and the moment, whatever it was, is gone. She drops your gaze and turns around, pulling the blanket all the way up to her chin.

You watch her turn, continuing to stare at her back before you sigh and face the other way.

You’re both stuck in the same place but you want to follow different paths.

You both know what its like to be a friend but want something more. The different is that she’s more likely to get what she wants. A boy can start to like his best friend, but you can’t turn a straight girl gay.

That knowledge weighs you down over the weekend. You, Betty, Archie, Jughead and Veronica hang out at Pops on Saturday. And even though you and Betty were the first one’s there, you somehow end up stuck on the end, forced to borrow a chair from someone else’s table.

Betty and Archie sit next to each other and laugh over inside jokes and their shared dislike of one of the new kids. Veronica and Jughead sit beside each other in an awkward silence. Every ten minutes one of them will try and desperately think of something that have in common but it never works.

And you?

You sit on the end with nothing to do and no one to talk to. So you leave early, muttering a small goodbye before rushing out of the diner. Veronica and Jughead mumble a small goodbye, and an hour later they come up with an excuse as to why they also need to leave.

But Betty and Archie don’t notice. They don’t notice you’ve gone until Jughead says goodbye an hour later.

They stay for a bit longer talking about stories from when they were younger, their plans for the rest of the weekend and whether they’ve done the homework for Miss Fireworth.

But something is missing. They both feel it, Betty more than Archie.

It settles in her bones, a feeling of loneliness. It’s only when Archie starts talking about if she thinks if Veronica would give him another chance does she realize it.

Of course! How could she have not seen it before It’s obvious. It was right in front of her this whole time and she’s only not just realized.

“Archie, I’ve got to go.” She says quickly, grabbing her bag and shuffling past him.

She feels terrible, all of these years you’ve been feeling like this and she’s been so oblivious. So inconsiderate. She’s the worst. But she’s going to make it right, she’s going to try her best to anyway.

“Okay.” He calls after her, she’s already out of the door by the time he replies and he watches her walk quickly out of the parking lot.

It takes her ten minutes to walk to your house and as soon as she runs up the steps of the porch she’s knocking loudly on the door. She moves from foot to foot, the excitement rising as she waits for you to answer the door.

The door swings open and your brows furrow once you see who it is. But before you have the chance to ask why she’s here, she’s already speaking.

“You like Archie?”

“What? No!” You exclaim and she raises an eyebrow.

“Its okay if you do. I actually think you guys would be really cute together.” She reassures you and you stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“I don’t like Archie.” You repeat but she’s having none of it, waving her arm around before continuing to talk.

“But you do though. I understand now. All of these years I’ve been pining over him and you also liked him. And you listened to me and comforted me like the great friend you are and I just let you. I didn’t even think that you could like him. But it makes so much sense now.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.” She huffs. “I’m sorry I was an idiot.”

“Its okay?”

“So you do like him? How long for?” She wonders, shrugging her jacket off as she walks past you.

You know you shouldn’t. You know this is going to end badly for everyone involved, but you do it anyway. You play along, at least if she thinks you like Archie, she won’t suspect herself.

“About three years.” You shrug and she stares at you in shock.

“That long?” She says.

“Yep.”

“How do you know you aren’t his type?” She wonders, remembering the conversation you had last night.

“I just do. I mean, look at his track record, and then look at me. Nothing alike.”

“Thats good though!” She replies. “Nobody wants to date someone exactly the same as their ex.”

You are very different to her ex’s, that is true.

“Not this different though.” You shrug. “Its fine though. I’m used to it. Now, do you want to watch a movie tonight?” You ask, sitting down on the sofa.

“Yeah, sure.” She replies, not really sure what to do. She sits beside you and looks around the living room, hoping the right words to say will find her. There’s something else to this, she knows there is. She just can’t quite figure out what it is. “Y/n?” She asks and reaches out to hold your hand. Her touch is gentle, almost cautious and you’re dreading whatever is going to come out of her mouth next. “Are you sure thats it?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, dropping her hand. Hurt flashes through her eyes and she pulls her hand back, placing it on her thigh.

The feeling of her hand went from light to heavy awfully quickly, and you want to touch her, but not like this. Not in this situation. She’s looking at you.

When she looks at you usually, it’s gives you a feeling you can’t describe. But the way she’s looking at you now makes you want to shrink.

“Do you like Archie?” She repeats.

“No.” You breathe and she sighs.

You can see her trying to figure it out. Trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together and you know she’s going to work it out. You stare at her with bated breath and watches as she stares at the blank television.

“I er, I’ve got a few things to do so, I’ll see you later.” You try but she just continues to look ahead.

The walls close in on you, it’s only a matter of time. She’s going to figure it out and she’s going to hate you and everything is going to be ruined.

“I’m sorry.” You cry quietly and she looks at you confused.

She’s beside you in an instant, wrapping her arms around you and your bury your head in her chest.

“I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t meant to and I wasn’t gonna tell you. I didn’t want to ruin anything between us because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Do you like me?” She asks, her voice remaining calm as she moves away to look at you.

“Yeah.” You mumble and stare at the grey fabric of the sofa. “I’m sorry.” Your force yourself to look at her.

She wipes the palms of her hands on her jeans, takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. You stare at her in confusion, wondering what she’s doing and why she hasn’t shouted at you and left yet. But then her hands cup your cheeks and she leans in, kissing you softly.

It’s slow at first, both of you unsure of what’s happening. But it doesn’t make any less perfect. It doesn’t stop your cheeks from heating up, or your heartbeat from going haywire and it doesn’t stop all cohesive thoughts from falling out of your head.

She pulls away quickly, and both of you looked at each other shocked.

“I’m sorry.” She says quickly and stands.

“No, no. It’s fine.” You reply, copying her movements. You follow her to the door, despite your entire body screaming at you to not let her leave. You don’t think you can handle watching her walk away.

You’ve wanted that kiss for three years. You’d built it up in your head so much, but now its happened and she’s running away and this is nothing like you thought it would be.

The kiss was perfect.

This is a nightmare.

“Y/n. I’m sorry.” She says, finally looking at you.

She’s holding on to her bag so tightly her knuckles have turned white, she glances at the door behind her and points awkwardly at it.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Yeah, okay.” She turns around and you will yourself not to cry. She can’t see you cry, not over her anyway.

“Bye.” She says quickly and walks through the front door.

“Bye.” You reply, closing the door before she even has a chance to turn around.

A shaky breath escapes your lips and you can’t stop the tears anymore. They keep coming, running down your face like sad little waterfalls. Your hands shake, your head hurts and your chest tightens.

You’ve just watched your best friend and the woman you’re in love with run away after kissing you.

Nothing is going to fix this.

Well one thing will.

“Y/n.” Betty is shouting outside, banging on the door louder than she ever has and you quickly swing the door open, revealing her tear stained face. “I’m so sorry.” She apologizes.

Within seconds she’s stepped over the threshold, her arms hold you waist and pulls you tight to her. She kisses you desperately and messily, with teeth clashing and tears mixing together.

But she doesn’t want it any other way.

And neither do you.

“Y/n?” She asks between kisses and you nod in reply. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Okay.” You pull away to look at her.

Her hands are still wrapped around you, but yours drops from from her cheeks, now worried that all of this has been some sort of trick.

“I wanna be your girlfriend.”

#betty cooper #betty cooper imagine #betty cooper x reader #betty cooper x you #betty cooper x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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gimme-more-caffeine · 4 years ago

Text

Persona 5/Persona 5 Royal Familiar AU

Basically where Personas can become animals in the real world. An AU that has been in my brain for YEARS, mainly starting way back when I first played Persona 4. Or rather, I think it's more accurate I've had this idea since I read it in a book with a similar concept way back in middle school. It was just stronger with the Persona franchise.

Arsene/Joker

- First thought: Black cat or Tortoiseshell cat

Honestly the thought of Arsene and Morgana sharing Akiren's bag/desk just amuses me

Plus since Akiren is pretty much confirmed cat by the fandom, it fits his Persona is a cat as well

Black cat for the element or tortoiseshell for the colors (makes me think Metaverse)

- Second thought: Raven

It's mainly due to Arsene's wings

- Third thought: Bat

This is mainly all due to Rauol, mainly the wings

Zorro/Mona

- Main thought: Bird of some kind

Magpies are the only thing I can of. I think it's because they look like crows and the coloring makes me think of all three of Morgana's personas

Captain Kidd/Skull

- First thought: Cheetah

It's all because cheetahs were my first thought when it comes to running

I think Ryuji could soothe any anxiety

- Second thought: Otter or Seal

They are aquatic and cuddly (seals look cuddly to me)

Probably hard for Ryuji to carry these guys around now that I think about it...

- Third thought: Coyote

Another animal based on running

Ryuji is pretty much confirmed a dog by the fandom

- Bonus/Last minute thought: Falcon

Bird for pirate theme

Speed bird as a running companion

Carmen/Panther

- (Edit) Main/Only thought: Panther

Obvious, should have done this first. It's in her name! Thank you @puwaasuru!

Goemon/Fox

- Main/Only thought: Foxes

Debating on the type of fox mostly.

First choice is ultimately the Marble fox as it honestly looks like Gormon to me

Second choice is arctic fox cuz basically it's an ice fox, Yusuke's name plus element

Third choice is a silver fox because they are pretty

Johanna/Queen

- First thought: Dove

This mainly has to do with her Arcana being Priestess

- Second thought: Pangolin

After watching one of these destroy a wall, I just felt like this could fit her

Necronomicon/Oracle

- First thought: Ferret

I honestly have no idea why but I want to give my gremlin child a ferret

- Second thought: Raccoon

Pretty much same reason as ferret...

Milady/Noir

- First thought: Capybaras

Mainly has to do with how friendly I read Capybaras are and how I read that they're pretty strong

Was inspired to use mouse due to Disney's Three Musketeers and rodents due to gardening

- Second thought: Stoat

They're cute and I love how vicious they can get (Reminds me of Haru)

Robin Hood/Loki/Crow

- Main thought: Crow

In all honesty, crows have been the main and only thought I got for this and it's due to Loki. I know ravens are more Nordic but I was inspired by fanworks of Crow having crow traits

Cendrillon/Violet

- Main thought: Deer

The jumping around and elegance reminds me of a dancer

How afraid Sumi got made me think of a skittish deer

- Second thought: Barn Owl

Not sure why but there's just something really elegant about a barn owl to me that could fit Cendrillon

Azathoth/Maruki

- Main thought: Octopus

I blame the tentacles...

Octopuses are said to be smart so it could fit

Notes:

- These were just my thoughts and a lot of times I was scrambling for something other than "just because" for a reason. I failed on that

- This list is honestly two weeks old and I've been working on it on/off when I have time. For some reason, whenever I couldn’t get to this list, my brain would get me a wide variety of animals. I simply forgot them when I got here

- I don't see Persona animals changing with each Tier, but if others do then that's great! Sumi's may be the only one to change, still not sure

Please feel free to add on your thoughts!

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fapangel · 4 years ago

Note

help, how do I write, well... armoured infantry fighting eachother? like, everyone's decked to the nines, so now I have the problem of gunfights devolving into brawls as people run through mags.

Treat armor much like how it works in real life - incredibly valuable for buying you a second chance, but not nearly so impervious that you can just stand around getting blasted. I presume you’re having a problem where you apply this metric and it makes modern-day style firefights where cover is king grind on forever, right? Well, you might be surprised to know that many real-life firefights actually do work that way. This is why “fire and maneuver” is such a key component in modern ranged combat, and why flanking is as important in the modern day as it was in rank-and-file melee combat of the ancient world. When both sides are in cover (and they will be since if they’re not in cover to begin with they’ll get there fast,) and playing peekaboo with each other, many rounds will be expended for relatively little effect. To do damage, you have to literally flank the enemy - if he’s hiding behind a rock, you have to move around to his side, so you’re shooting at him from two directions, so both sides of his rock are threatened.

Naturally, once your enemy is flanked in this fashion, they tend to retreat and regroup rather than stay in their compromised position and be swiftly annihilated. Compare this to B.H. Liddel Hart’s words, where he says that strategy “is not so much to seek battle as to seek a strategic situation so advantageous that if it does not of itself produce the decision, its continuation by a battle is sure to achieve this. In other words, dislocation is the aim of strategy...”

Liddel Hart was describing strategy, but his observations apply equally well to tactics, even squad-level tactics, in modern warfare. Which, in itself, neatly shows you why insurgencies are so hard to combat - infantrymen with rifles are superb tools - in truth, the ONLY tool - for taking and holding ground, but forcing an enemy off the ground you want to hold is a lot easier than actually pinning them down and eliminating them. Thus the goal of insurgencies is to not actually hold any ground of their own, but stay ephemeral.

Thus the integral relationship between fire and maneuver which you see military theorists constantly kicking around. All you need to keep in mind (a point said theorists often get too deep into the weeds to remember) is that applying firepower is the point of maneuver. You need 1. something to shoot and 2. a clear shot to your target in order to use it. If they’re in foxholes or a bunker, for example, that means getting close enough to use grenades.

So to apply power armor to a firefight, we have to consider how it affects fire and maneuver. Now in the history of war there has always been a fluid relationship between armor and firepower, one that often changed rapidly as technology changed. Sometimes it’s the pre-dreadnaught era, where even the biggest nutcracking guns afloat couldn’t penetrate the crucial spaces of opposing battleships, and sometimes it’s the 1940s era, where body armor is mostly an afterthought as no practicably wearable technology can really oppose the weapons in use. But more often it’s been Conquistador-era, where people check for the “bullet proof” dent in the armor that proves it can stop a musket ball - or for that matter, a (lighter) crossbow bolt - but know there’s no option to protect the face or limbs, because they’ve already used up their weight allotment on the armor protecting their torso.

One of the first things you have to decide about the technology in your story is, this relative relationship between offense and defense. Is one currently enjoying advantage over the other, or are they in a period where they’re relatively evenly matched?

From there, account for the effects of (what I assume is) power armor. Powered suits not only let you carry more armor, but also more powerful weapons to punch THROUGH the armor of your enemies. They also allow you to move a lot faster, over much rougher terrain, as the infantrymen are freed from the limits of human strength. This boost in mobility is doubled by the reduction of firepower. The basic technique of fire-and-maneuver is covering fire; you pour fire onto the enemy so they have to stay behind their cover and can’t light up your troops as they move. Thus the concept of “effective fire;” you need to put enough rounds on your enemies that they are actually forced to duck, or if they are moving, force them to stop advancing and hug cover. If armor is stronger, then it takes more fire to be effective. This benefits everyone, of course, but I’m going to wager it helps troopers trying to maneuver relatively more, as the ones behind cover already have very good protection. The armor mostly protects against blast-frag; i.e. shrapnel. (Shrapnel is the primary killer of infantrymen because it spreads the “love” around. This is why things like tanks were historically hard to kill with artillery or airpower; blast-fragmentation compensated for the innate inaccuracy of unguided munitions. You either needed direct fire [like the 37mm gunpods Stuka’s used, or yes, the GAU-8 decades later,) or ‘spread’ munitions that could kill tanks, like napalm or armor-piercing bomblets.) The precision-guided munitions revolution has largely negated many ordinance distinctions born of blast-frag primacy; pretty much any weapon, even ones fired out of a rifleman’s underbarrel grenade launcher, can be precision guided and home in on a single target; even a single power-armored infantryman. So while power armored infantry in the real world, right now, would be very tough to kill because most standard artillery rounds couldn’t root them out, in a futuristic setting we can presume that they’re dropping self-guiding submunitions with micro-sized armor piercing warheads. Thus the real beneficiaries, comparatively, would be the guys maneuvering - not only are they faster, but they’re primarily threatened by hostile small arms, and with better armor, the same amount of firepower threatens them less. Overall mobility on the battlefield would be enhanced.

That naturally leads to firefights happening at shorter ranges as both sides aggressively maneuver on each other, as neither sides fire will be effective at suppressing the other till they reach shorter ranges (mainly due to accuracy. The more rounds clustered tighter on target, the more likely they’re going to drop.) And both sides can reach close range faster. So fights will be shorter, faster, and more intense.

Remember - it doesn’t HAVE to be this way. You can approach this from a question of “what kind of dynamic do I WANT?” and then simply write the tech in the story to support that. Remember what I said earlier about the struggle between firepower and armor through history - it can change fast - so it’s entirely plausible for your story to be happening at any point on that spectrum. Those pre-dreads I mentioned? Only 40 years later, in WWII, firepower had caught up so drastically that the guns of a cruiser could punch clean through the belt armor of a battleship under 15,000 yards or so. But that was suicidally close for a cruiser... because of the battleship’s own guns. Again, fire and maneuver. Or firepower, maneuver and armor, if you want to make it a triangle; each one has both offensive and defensive applications. The shape of that triangle dictates the blend of them that will be used to conduct warfare and in what fashion. So if you don’t have a specific, desired combat dynamic in mind for the story, it’s also good (and fun) to nail down what that triangle looks like FIRST, and then extrapolate from there to discover what it’d be like. It all depends on your priorities as a storyteller.

A last note - everything I discussed above is an issue under serious consideration IRL as pertains to infantry. Body armor has gotten scary good, in the last few decades especially. The Army was first kicking around a 6.5mm round in the 90s and the topic is coming up for consideration more and more often, as well as alternatives like three round burst and such (remember the AN-94s clever super-fast doubletap? Ayep.) So you can read up on current IRL discussion on this topic to get ideas about how things might change and how armies will adapt.

My discord is Demetrious#5963 and I’m on Rizon under Demetrious as well; hit me up if you wanna talk more on specifics or whatever~

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

Text

Pure Blood 24 (Sirius Black x F!Oc)

Words: 1,839

Masterlist:

Chapter 23 // Chapter 25

“Persephone," Regulus complains rolling his eyes. "How long are you going to be like this?"

"Until you tell me the truth.”

"You can't hold me forever.”

"Try me,” I tighten my grip around his torso and he sighs.

“There's no truth, I don’t hide anything from you.”

"I know you lie, I've known you since you were a baby.”

"Perse- let me go!"

"No!"

He grunts and falls silent and looks around, a bit embarrassed at the attention we're getting. I'm about to tell him something else, but a sneeze interrupts me.

“You're still sick and you’ll make me catch it too if you continue in this way!"

"It's worth it, so you won't go out with your mysterious friends anymore!”

"Ok, I'll tell you, but please let me go!”

Little by little I obey and we both stand face to face. He fidgets uncomfortably.

"It's not something… it's complicated, Persephone."

"I'm worried about you, Reg. Sirius told me that–”

"Wait, Sirius?" He asks raising an eyebrow.

"He saw you with Rosier, come on Reg, you always hated them, what’s changed?"

"Now you believe my brother?"

"Don't change the subject," I point out. "Why were you with them?"

"Nothing, it's a boys’ thing" he shrugs.

"Oh, come on. That doesn't work for me.”

"You can't know, Persephone," he says suddenly serious. "You better not go where it does not concern you.”

He walks past me and his shoulder bumps with mine. Never since I knew him had he treated me like this. He asks for space, and obviously I won't give it to him, he's hiding something from me and I must find out.

Trixie left, Sirius is acting suspiciously nice, I’ve to catch up on my assignments, Remus following me like a shadow and my cold, which is almost out of my system, but I'm still sneezing. And I can't enjoy winter, I’d love to see snow cover the school, but no.

What else can go wrong?

I walk into the Great Hall and sit at the lion's table. Jenna’s on my left, Lily is on my right, while Remus is in front of me and Peter’s next to him.

"And the other two musketeers?" I ask him. Remus shrugs.

"They've been acting pretty weird lately."

We didn’t give it importance and we continued talking. Lily’s explaining to me something they did in the history of magic, but I was distracted the moment two Ravenclaw girls passed very close to Remus, they see him with a smile, whisper something, laugh and continue on their way.

Lupin also notices but he just looks down and his cheeks turn red.

"What just happened?" I say interrupting Lily.

"It doesn't matter," Remus whispers.

"You say it like it's happened to you before, Wolfie," I raise an eyebrow and he just shakes his head.

"Didn't the girls leave you alone?" Lily adds looking at him worriedly.

"Wait, which girls?"

Remus looks at her pleadingly not to say anything to me, but Lily ignores him.

“Some girls find what happened with Trixie and Remus very funny. 'I can't believe she noticed him' and 'He's the worst of the marauders' is what they say–”

"They say what?!”

"Percy, forget it, it's not worth it,” Remus says trying to calm me down.

"Of course, those lies are not worth giving importance to–”

“No they aren't. They are right though, everyone is. I'm a laughingstock.”

"You can’t be serious.” I can't believe Remus thinks that. His eyes look at me sadly and I feel my heart shrink.

"Remus John Lupin stop thinking like that!” He rolls his eyes.

"Percy the faster I accept it, the less damage."

“I’m offended!"

“Persephone,” Lily warns me, but I ignore her.

"I can't understand how you think like that, Remus."

“Percy…”

“No, I will not allow it. If you only saw yourself as I do, you would think differently. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. You’re kind, intelligent, you defend your friends and family, you’re stronger than you think! You still don't believe me?"

He scratches the back of his neck.

"Remus, you’ve helped me in so many ways, I cannot see you as a bad person, or as a loser, do not compare yourself with your friends, everyone has their qualities and if others don’t see how incredible you are, then they lose. Besides, that's better since I'll have more of you all to myself,” I joke and he smirks.

"Thanks, Percy."

I want to answer, but I see another group of girls in the distance who point to my friend. My body feels tense and I stand up despite Remus and Lily's warnings.

"Hey!" I yell at the group and they stop laughing. "If you want to keep talking about Remus, it’d be better to say it to our face and not just laugh like kids and then run away!" The girls blush and try to hide at their table. Now I have the undivided attention of others. “And this goes for everyone else, why don't you get a life instead of continuing to talk about what happened with Trixie? She’s gone, stop being idiots and let others live!” I glance at Remus. “Remus Lupin is one of the best people who have studied here and is much better than the vast majority of you.”

Some others whisper among themselves. I ignore it and sit down again. I've never seen Remus so flushed, but at least he's smiling.

"You didn’t have to do that.”

“A ‘thank you’ would’ve been nice,” I joke and he laughs.

"Don't worry, Remus. Surely after that speech, the girls will be behind you,” adds Jenna sarcastically.

"Yeah sure," He snorts.

“Hey!" I complain "Didn't you just hear what I just said?”

"Thanks, Percy. But you have to admit that I’ve never been good at romantic relationships."

“What?"

"Name a girlfriend of mine, skipping the devil," He says with an amused smile at the nickname.

I think for a few minutes and realize that it’s true. Remus hasn't had a girlfriend. I completely ignore the thought of my older sister having a crush on him.

"It doesn't matter, you’ll find a great girl, who’ll have to be approved by Lily and me,” Lily rolls her eyes. "All in good time, Wolfie. Soon you will have to reject your admirers.” He laughs.

"Surely.”

"Enough of so much negativity! You’re a very handsome boy, any girl would die to be with you!”

"Whatever you say, Percy,” I don't like the way he says it. How can he not tell how wonderful he is?

“Remus," I complain.

"Okay, maybe you're right, but I don't think any girl would-"

I don't let him finish, I pull his shirt to bring him closer and I kiss him, closing my eyes. I never would have believed that Remus' lips were so soft and delicate. For a few seconds I feel that he wants to reciprocate the kiss and- damn- he’s good. But the kiss suddenly ends when he pushes me away. I open my eyes and meet his pale expression and that's when I realize what I just did.

Holy shit.

I sit back on the bench and I can feel many glances on me.

"P?" Jenna asks, but I don't dare look at her, I keep staring at Remus.

"Uh, that- that's a test… maybe now everyone will notice you?” I stutter.

I grab my bag and run out of the large dining room with my eyes downcast to avoid everyone's stares.

What else can go wrong?

“Sirius?"

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Only this happens to you.”

"Thanks for the support.”

"Why the fuck did you kiss him?"

"I don't know, Jenna!"

"Do you know what you need?"

"Kill myself?"

"No, a girls' night" she says excitedly and I complain.

"Not again…”

The girls have been having sleepovers for a long time and Jenna has always invited me, but I always decline. I know Lily's friends are good and our relationship has improved and blah blah blah. But I’ve never been one of those things, now less, they’ll want to ask about what happened.

"Come on, I just ask you to be one night!"

"That's what everyone says," I say putting a hand on my chest exaggerating. Jenna sighs.

“Please?"

"But they’ll about ask what happened and talk nonsense and I'm going to be uncomfortable…”

"P, If you feel like this, I’ll give you permission to go, please, just one night!"

I see her pleading face and I growl.

"At least I hope sweets.”

“Sure."

We were silent for a few seconds.

“Don’t you really know why you kissed Remus?"

“No!"

"There must be a reason…”

"Well, I don't have it.”

“P…”

I pout.

"Stop scolding me,” I say taking my green blanket and putting it over my head. Jenna sighs.

"We were just coming off the Trixie drama and now you come up with this!”

"You're going to make me cry.”

"I think that's my job," says a third voice. We look up and behind our couch is my older sister.

"I don't want to see anyone anymore, come back later or never, thank you.” I complain now, covering my face behind the blanket.

I feel the chair move and I hear a little "I'm sorry" from Jenna.

"They say you were in the infirmary.”

I uncover my face and glare at my sister.

"Yes, like three years ago, thanks for worrying, sister."

She rolls her eyes.

“Not all your rumors interest me and most are false. Like that one about you kissing Lupin,” She says disinterestedly or so it seems because her eyes are towards the fireplace.

My body tenses.

"Er, haha, yes, people make up a lot of things…”

“Did you?" She says suddenly, her voice fails a bit.

"I didn’t plan to fall into the black lake,” Felix did.

"You know I'm not talking about that.”

What, this is not the invisibility blanket?

“Juno…”

"Is it because of what you read in my journal?"

“It's not what you think, I don't know why I kissed him, I don't understand, I'm trying not to panic, but come on Juno. Your crush with Remus was nothing serious, was it?"

"That does not entitle you to–”

"You sound like dad already,” I wince.

"At least I'm on his side.”

“Now, let's talk about family favoritism!”

"It is not necessary, we both know that you’re no longer on that list.”

I grunt.

“Is that what you came to then? To claim something from me that you have no right to and to emphasize the obvious– don’t you have something else to do?"

Her response was a clean slap on my innocent cheek.

“You’re a mess, Persephone. You always were, now the whole family knows it and soon all the important people of the magical world will know it too,” She says and smiles falsely. “Can’t wait to see you at the meeting,” She ends and then walks away.

“Ouch…" I rub my cheek.

Taglist

@treestarrrrrrrr @siriuslysirius1107 @thagreenmoon @madmaiden2890 @ren-ela @avipshamitra @auroraawrites @findzelda @lizlil @siriusmuch @chloe-geoghegan1 @reverse-hxlland @may-rapp @the-specific-oceans

@bloodorangemoonlight

@eveft

#Pure blood #hpfanfic #sirius black #sirius black x reader #james potter #remus lupin #harry potter #twoidiots writing

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khristinewriteandcapture · 4 years ago

Text

Series Reviews (2020)

23. It's Okay To Not Be Okay

Are you okay?

How many times did you answered this question truthfully?

When something happened to us and people tend to get worried, they always asked this question and because we dont want them to keep worrying, I think we always say the wrong answer because its part of being human.

Saying you're okay even if your not has been the problem of people not only today but even years ago. We say okay even if we're hurt physically, mentally or emotionally. Maybe to avoid being pitied, being a burden to others or we just want to look stronger.

But that's exactly the problem of being human. We say things we dont mean. We always say the complete opposite of what we really mean specially in the moment when someone might also be hurt with to our response.

But it's okay.

It's okay to not be okay.

I've watched many movies and series saying that it's not embarrasing to say what you actually feel inside. I'm also currently watching a series about depression and how it can lead to death. And this kinds of series are trying to tells us that taking your own life is not the solution to every problem you kept facing on your own.

It's okay. Everything will be okay. It's nice to hear words like that right specially if it's spoken by someone close to us, right?

This korean drama doesnt only have the best actor to play the part of the main cast but also, they also made the characters connect with the viewers. Every single characters. From the main lead to the last supporting character. No one was a display. Everyone contributed and I think that's what makes a great story.

I think this has been the most meaningful Korean drama I had ever watched, next to Reply 1988 and Itaewon Class. It made me cried every episode. And it clearly deserved the praises it gets every day.

The whole story was also refreshing because of the fairytales involved in every episodes. The mixture of a story to another story was a great idea of creating a new and unique one, I guess.

As I said that everyone contributed to the story, I would like to share my thought on each and everyone of them. And I think, this is going to be longer than Itaewon Class or Reply 1988.

Everyone has their stories to tell and this drama really told everybody's story. I would like to tell everyone's story here but I think, that is too much spoiler. So, I'll just give you what's unique and special about the main cast and some supporting characters.

1. Jae-Su. The ever loyal friend of Gang-Tae. He's like the best best friend anyone dreamed of having. I mean, with his business, you can have free chicken or pizza anytime. But I'm still curious how rich he is. Every time the brothers move, he also moved with them and open and close a business again and again. He felt sometimes felt tired but he never complained because he liked being with them. Following them was not an issue for Jae-su. He can follow them even at the end of the Earth. Because they're family and not blood of surname can keep them from being one.

He's a very loyal and trustworthy friend. I cant believe he actually followed them for ten years of his life. Maybe that's the result of being too attached. You cant never seem to let go and even if you can, you wont.

2. Mr. Lee Sang-In, the business minded CEO of the publishing company, Ko Mun-yeong worked at but as time passed, he turned out to be a thoughtful and caring person.

He also stick together with Ko Mun-yeong through the years. He have a kind heart which was buried in his business like stance who only cared about money in the beginning. He was also dependable and always thinks about others even if he doesn't want to. And he looked better without a beard.

3. After the CEO, let's move over to Seung-Jae which happened to be the most in demand actress I've seen in almost 3 dramas already this year.

First was in While You Were Sleeping (I think), then in Backstreet Rookie and then here. Anyway, her character her was slow in her work but quick witted when it comes everything not related to work. She's adorably dumb and you'll get to laugh a lot with her and Lee Sang-in's combo.

She might hate her boss but she doesn't also want him or Ko Mun-yeong to suffer. And also, she don't have anywhere to go to that's why she stick with them.

4. So, next is Nam Ju-ri. I hate her.

Wait, let me repeat that. I hated her. Yep. And you'll know why if you watch this or if you had, I'm right, right?

But, all is well. Maybe because she just want her feelings to be reciprocated. She's actually really nice despite of wanting to be not. She just wanted to lean on someone other than her mother. She's lonely. She worked taking care of others and she just wanted someone to take care of her too. We all wanted that right.

5. Let's not forget the mother of all, Kang Soon-duk.

She had appeared in a lot of dramas. She would be this rich mother who don't want her soon to like a poor girl, the mother from a simple family who often beat her child out of love, the cool mom where everyone would dreamed of. She had been named as ‘the ultimate eommoni/mother’.

She was effective. But anyway, her character here is the mother of not only one child but the mother of everyone in the drama. She takes care of the three lead, her daughter, her tenant and everyone in the hospital. It was tiring for someone like her but also magical because she was able to do it.

6. Director Oh has been a great part of the whole drama.

Even though he looked and sounded like a not effective doctor sometimes, everything he says made sense. He often look foolish but he's the smartest fool in the hospital.

After the supporting has been called for, let's move to the three musketeers–I mean, the three main cast. The emotionless princess, the masked boy and the boy trapped in the box or simple Ko Mun-yeong, Moon Gang Tae and Moon Sang Tae.

Three lonely people brought together to became whole. Who said two is better than one. Make it three for more fun.

It was chaotic. That's the description for the three. A crazy girl, a calm but explosive guy and an adult but living in a kid's personality.

Watching this drama felt like you're about to go crazy too. After crying in an intense scene, you'll catch yourself laughing after and serious the next minute. I mean, every Korean drama does that. That's why everyone has the k-drama virus. Everyone is crazy now.

Anyway, Sang-Tae or the boy in the trapped box.

He's a special trait that makes him different from others. He tend to think as a child sometimes but he's also talented and smart. He might act like a kid but you'll also be surprised of how he can be an adult.

He loved his brother so much but also hates him to which is natural for brother right?

He happened to have a severe trauma which add to the burden of his brother but as the brave brother he is, he wanted to overcome it and be the adult he really is. His characters was really inspiring and heartwarming. His presence gives off a ray of sunshine. I admire the actor who played him because he played it well. I hope if he will ever get an award for it. I really hope he will.

After the boy trapped in the box, let's talk about the Emotionless Princess whose not really emotionless but full of emotions and craziness.

Ko Mu-yeong's characters gave the drama full of craziness and funny sides. Her adult lines and provoking scenes are the best. She totally likes provoking Gang-tae and even though it's all scripted, it was so funny that it can be remembered all the time. Some scene had become memes now.

Ko Mun-yeong's characters was tough and powerful but behind that, she's still a girl whose scared and defenseless when no one's watching. She found sanctuary and safety when she met Gang-tae. For the first time, she wanted to be taken care of after all the years of not feeling anything.

She's lonely and constantly in pain from the past. She's still the little girl stuck in the castle waiting for someone to rescue her.

And lastly, Moon Gang-tae, our masked boy.

I think he's the complete opposite of Peter Pan. He needed to grew up faster than anyone to take care of his brother. He didn't had time to be a kid or to enjoy his youth because of the only family he have.

He cursed the life he had until finally he understand and accepted the reason why he had to have this family. It maybe crazy and a handful, it's still worth fighting for.

All he wanted was everyone to be safe with his care and even set aside his own dreams for it. He regretted not doing his dreams but he's contented with everything he had at the moment and that's all that matters.

Life might throw stones at you from time to time to test if your strong enough to conquer it not to avoid it.

And if something doesn't feel right, don't be afraid to talk about it. You'll be surprise of the result once you let it all out. Never be afraid to let people in and also let them go. The end might also be the start of a new beginning.

Seriously, watch this. It's a must! Maybe 10 years from now, people will look back how great this drama was and even though 2020 was the worst year of all, this was made in that year. It will be part of history.

#seriews reviews #its okay to not be okay #korean drama recommendations #seo yi ji #kim soo hyun #netflix recommendation #love #mental health #family #friendship

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imaginepirates · 5 years ago

Text

Okay

For @long-cosmos-overhead. The reader gets hurt in a fight on the Pearl. They are later taken care of by Jack, and we get some cuddles at the end.

@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom @ilikebritsandbands

~2850 words

~~~~~~~

It stung. You didn't dare look down, afraid of how much blood you might be losing. You could feel the stickiness through your fingers. Your hands rested on the area, moving up and down with your breaths. You wheezed slightly; oh god it hurt.

Typically, the Pearl never engaged with other ships. She hadn't had a chance this time, cornered by a looming Spanish galleon off the coast of Cuba. The fight was a bloody one, and neither side seemed to be winning.

You'd been fighting alongside your crewmen when someone stabbed you. It wasn't the person you were fighting, but another sailor passing by.

You were slouched under the stairs, watching the fight play out from between wooden slats. You'd managed to drag yourself there through a fit of pain. You needed a good hiding spot; out in the open, someone might have finished you off.

You tilted your head back against the wall and focused on taking normal breaths. You stared out between your lashes, view obscured by watery eyes.

Tears slipped down your face, leaving it a mess of red streaks. At this rate, nobody was going to find you before the battle was over, and by then it would be too late. You risked a glance down. Blood soaked through your shirt and had trailed as far down as your upper thigh. It had oozed out over your fingers and dyed you skin bright crimson.

It was unfair, you thought, that someone had cut you down from where you couldn't see them. In times gone by, there was a bit of a moral code about such things. Only hurt the people you're fighting face to face. It was the honorable thing to do.

The world had long since passed out of the times of honor, letting itself fall into times of general nastiness.

It would be better to just close your eyes and let yourself slip away, but the battle raged on before you, and you continued to watch.

Some of the crew were generally proficient with cutlasses and muskets. Still, the crew was relying mainly on incredible strokes of luck. It seemed like you did that often. You were so rarely fighting other people, or at least regular ones, that you employed some…interesting tactics.

There was something to be said for creativity. No matter how well-trained a soldier was, he was never prepared for a cask of rum bowling toward him during a fight. A mop to the face was distracting as well.

It was ridiculous. The things you were able to pull off, by all rights, were stupid and seemingly useless. But for you, they worked.

It was part of life on the Pearl. With Jack around, anything was possible. You often wondered about the man. He was a close friend, but a total mystery. There were so many things about him that you longed to know.

You'd never be able to find out. Your eyes were fluttering closed, now, the battle a haze and the noise of clashing metal dull in your ears. It was like being dunked underwater. Everything was fuzzy and out of focus.

~~~

You woke somewhere else, on a mattress, a pillow beneath your head. You barely tried moving. Stretching your legs was the extent of what your tired body wanted to do. Even that hurt; it sent a jolting pain through your body.

It came back to you all at once. You'd only had hazy memories, bleary recollections of what had happened. Now, it returned to you with vivid detail.

Slowly, you moved your arms to your stomach. There was a bandage there, covering your abdomen. It was fresh. You hoped someone had cleaned the room.

You were now capable of clearer thought. The fact that you were on a bed, being taken care of, hinted to your winning the fight. If the Pearl hadn't won, you would likely have been left for dead.

It was a joyous thought, but it still left you alone in a bed. You wondered when someone would come in and check on you. You didn't fancy waiting for too long, just in case you fell asleep again.

You stared at the wall for a while, letting your mind wander. How many of the crew had survived? Was Jack alright? Gibbs? These men and women were your friends, your family. The entire group was close. Losing any one of them would break your heart.

Jack. You realized with alacrity that you were in his bed. There was no other bed on the ship, except for in the sickbay, but you wouldn't be alone if you were there.

You'd been inside Jack's cabin a few times before, but the visits were few and far between. Mostly, he kept his space to himself. It was a goodly size with a large desk at one end. The bed was against one wall. Its crimson sheets were too big, and they spilled onto the floor. A map lie sprawled across the desk. There were little markings all over it, and a knife pinned it in place. Not exactly Jack's style, but it wasn't unusual.

The bottles were his style. They filled the space; they sat on shelves, the desk, the floor, a chair, and one rested just against your foot. If you could move better, you might have checked it for liquid. You could use a drink.

A sliver of light fell across your face, and you instinctively shielded your eyes with your hands. Bad move. Your torso decided it was time to throw a fit, being as painful as possible.

The light disappeared as soon as it came. In the dark, you could just make out the figure of Gibbs. Other than a shallow gash on the forehead, he looked fine.

"You're awake!" He exclaimed. "By gods, you had us scared. Deep cut like that can kill a man."

"I'm not a man," you said weakly.

He laughed. "Still yourself, then. The Cap'n 'll be glad to hear."

"Water?" You croaked.

"Ah, yes, we have some here somewhere." He fished around in the dark, trying to find the pitcher you knew was on the chair.

You were frightfully close to falling asleep again. You wished Gibbs would hurry up. Drinking would rouse you, and a good splash in the face couldn't hurt.

The water was refreshing. You gulped it down, and though it hurt, you couldn't help yourself. Your throat was painfully dry. You didn't know how long it had been since you'd last been awake. When had you drank last? Hours ago? Days?

"How long have I been out?" You asked.

"Almost two days."

"Two days?" It was more an exclamation than a question. "Where has Jack been sleeping?"

"In the chair at his desk."

You supposed you shouldn't be surprised. You and Jack had been friends for a long time, so he had every reason to worry about you. Still, you felt badly that he was sleeping in a chair.

"How is everyone?"

"We're doing fine. Other than bumps and scratches, of course. You got the worst of it." Gibbs looked you over. He pulled aside your blankets to look at your bandage.

It dawned on you that you didn't know who was changing it. "Who's been taking care of me, cleaning me up, changing my bandages?"

"That would be Jack, lass." He winked.

You didn't know what to make of it. Surely it wasn't odd to have him do it, but the thought was a little uncomfortable. That he'd been the person to reach under your shirt and patch you up…

Not knowing what to say, you stayed silent. There was the soft clink of glass against glass as Gibbs poured you more water. The pain in your side had dulled to an ache. This, unfortunately, let you focus on the awkwardness of the situation.

You took a long sip of water and thought about how long it would take to get up and moving again. You'd have to stay in Jack's room for a long time. It hadn't been so bad when you were asleep, but with the knowledge of where you actually were, you felt embarrassed. You had a good idea of the rumors that could start.

"How long will it take for me to walk again?"

"It could take weeks. Two, most likely."

Oh dear. If Jack slept in the chair that long, he'd get moody. Not to mention, sleeping in the same room with him felt a little improper. Not that you'd ever cared about propriety.

Why did it feel so odd? You slept around men all the time. All the crew's hammocks were in the same spot. You were one of the few females, and you were surrounded by men every day.

When it came to sleeping around Jack, there was a little fluttering sensation in your chest. You told yourself it was hardly different than sleeping around any other man, but it didn't feel that way to you.

A small space at the back of your brain told you it was because you didn't feel the same about other men as you did about Jack. Other men were other men, and Jack was Jack. He was special to you, more important, closer to you. It made your feelings for him stronger.

Every time this part of your brain turned on, you promptly shut it off and hoped it would disappear. Of course Jack was special to you, but thinking like that might lead to the wrong things. To thinking about deeper feelings you didn't want to acknowledge. To actual, raw feelings you convinced yourself you didn't have.

Gibbs left, and you hated the thought of waiting for company. It could be hours before someone decided to talk to you.

It wasn't. First, Anamaria came barging in, checking to see that her fellow woman was okay. Members of the crew filed in after her, taking turns talking with you. You were glad to see all your friends cared, but it was a little overwhelming. You talked so much that you hardly remembered eating lunch or dinner.

It was as you were getting drowsy again that Jack stepped in. He looked worn; the bags under his eyes were deeper than usual, and he moved with an uncharacteristic slowness. He slumped into his chair before looking at you.

Despite his exhausted demeanor, he still had a spark in his eyes. They were focused on you.

"Jack, are you okay?"

"Love, I don't think you have the right to be asking." A smirk returned to his face, and though it looked tired, it was there.

"But you look awful!"

"I'm not the one lying abed with a stab wound."

He had a point. "Alright, but at least I've been sleeping. You don't look like you've gotten any rest."

"There's no need to worry about me, love."

"I can at least share the bed." It was out of your mouth before you had even thought about what you were saying. A blush crept up your cheeks, and you hoped Jack wouldn't see it in the dim light.

The look of surprise on his face was quickly hidden when he took a long sip of rum. Clearing his throat, he said, "I'm not sure that would be a good idea, what with your wound and all." He wiggled a finger in the general direction of your stomach.

No matter how nonchalant he was trying to sound, he was failing.

"You aren't getting any rest," you argued weakly. You weren't sure if you wanted him to sleep with you or not.

He sighed. "I haven't been sleeping for more reasons than just that, love."

Your heart rate spiked. "What do you mean?"

"I- I worried about you."

Verbally showing that he cared had never been one of Jack's strong suits. He had a hard time admitting when he was afraid for someone, or if he even genuinely liked them. It meant a lot to you that he talked about worrying about you.

"I'm alright," you assured him. "You don't need to worry anymore."

"Right." He scratched the back of his neck.

"That chair can't be comfortable."

"Thank you for reminding me." He grimaced.

An awkward silence ensued. You suspected that no matter how uncomfortable the chair was, he would stay in it. You idly tapped your fingers against the blankets. Two weeks of this tension. Two weeks. You hoped things would feel normal again quickly. Maybe they would move you once you started feeling better, and you and Jack could go back to joking and drinking with each other.

To your surprise, Jack rose out of the chair. He sat lightly on the edge of the bed. His hands moved to take off his shoes, and you had the feeling he was stalling for time.

Once his shoes were off, he turned to you, raising an eyebrow. You smiled softly, trying to assure him that you were fine with sharing the space. The bed was too big for one person, anyway.

He stretched his legs out on the bed and laid down on his back. He stared at the ceiling instead of looking at you.

You needed to break the silence. It was killing you. "What happened to the Spanish ship?" You asked.

"Mmn?" He stretched, raising his arms above his head. "It went its own way."

"No treasure?"

"No."

"You seem to get us into lots of trouble. And there's very little compensation," you teased.

He turned to you, pouting. "That's not my fault."

"I'm sure it isn't."

"Trust me, love, I like treasure as much as the next man."

"Not all treasure is silver and gold, Jack." Perhaps it was unfair to use his own quote against him.

He grunted, returning his gaze to the ceiling. You moved your hand so it was brushing his. He didn't look at you, but you saw his eyes go a little wider. Gently, you wrapped your fingers around his.

He shifted onto his side to face you, but kept your hand firmly in his grasp. The other hand hovered, not quite sure where to rest itself. It finally decided on the sheets between you.

You were unsure of what to say, so you didn't say anything at all, letting the silence settle between you.

"Are you okay?" Jack's voice was more sullen than usual.

"I am now. I was afraid of dying back then, but I figure that by now, I've made it through the worst."

"I hope so, love." He moved closer, trailing a hand through your hair. He played with a lock, rolling it between his fingers.

"The wound isn't so bad, now." You looked at his fingers and how they weaved through your hair. "Thank you. For taking care of me the whole time."

He said nothing, but continued to run his hands through your hair. He laid on his back again. This time, you rested your head against his chest. The closeness felt nice. This way, there wasn't a need to talk.

For a long time, you lay there, soaking in each other's company. You traced little patterns in the fabric of his shirt with a finger. He had an arm under you, holding you close.

Your fingers found the spot in his shoulder where bullets had passed through. It was true that he'd had near-death experiences. You wondered if you'd had one, too. "Jack, how close did I come to dying?"

"Close."

"Oh."

"It's part of the job, love." You could tell his heart wasn't in the statement. "Have you ever considered anything else?"

"Why would I?"

"Piracy is dangerous. More than you know. I've been doing this longer than you have, and I've seen things."

"I know the risk well enough, Jack." You had just been stabbed.

"You could live in a cottage somewhere. Do something else. Be safe."

"The world is a dangerous place. Nobody's really safe anywhere."

He looked at you with sad eyes. "You could be safer."

"Jack, please. I'd rather live a fast life, one with strong relationships, adventure, and good times. Safety doesn't mean happiness. We both know this.

"I've had the time of my life here, on the Pearl. With you and the rest of the crew. As a kid, it was all I ever wanted. I wanted to go on adventures and meet new people, and I have. It's still what I want. I wouldn't trade this life for safety. I wouldn't trade it for the world."

Jack held you a little closer. "You're still stubborn." Even if you couldn't see it due to how you were laying on him, you could hear the smile in his voice.

"It's not such a bad thing, is it?"

"Not particularly, love."

"Good. Because I'm fully intent on staying right here." You were. No injury, no experience, and certainly no person would keep you away. Which was just as well. You couldn't go anywhere for the moment, anyway.

You drifted off to sleep, thinking of how the next two weeks might not actually be so bad.

#x reader #potc #pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow #writing #drabble #request

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29-pieces · 4 years ago

Text

Whumptober day 6 - The Musketeers

Day 6: No More Fandom/Setting: The Musketeers, pre-series (new recruit!Athos) read on AO3 read on FF.net

~*~

Athos could smell the blood as he pushed into the tiny cell ahead of the other musketeer, a burly brawler named Porthos. It boded poorly for the man they'd been sent to find. Though the careful blankness of his expression never shifted, Athos couldn't help but pause as he took in the sight of the prisoner.

Porthos, in contrast, shoved past him with a cry.

"Aramis! Aramis... God, don' be dead, please don' be dead..."

Athos raised a hand to his mouth and forced himself to remain calm and in control. He'd only worked closely with Aramis once, long enough to know the man as a perpetually cheerful if somewhat roguish lover of life, the constant center of attention, ready with a quip or a fight depending on the situation. Athos had few, if any, friends; he could have seen himself befriending this one. It didn't seem he would have the opportunity now.

"Help me cut 'im down," Porthos snapped, drawing Athos back to the present moment. "We gotta stop the bleeding. Stitch 'im up, maybe. Something."

Biting back his fear that it was too late for Aramis, Athos nevertheless moved in swiftly to help Porthos, supporting Aramis's weight as the taller musketeer drew a dagger to slice through the rope holding Aramis's arms high overhead. Athos moved to set him carefully on the floor, but Porthos scooped him up instead.

"Not in here," Porthos bit out. "Outside. I've got him, just keep our path clear."

Again, Athos bit back any remark. He had the impression that the two were close, and since he himself knew the feeling of finding a beloved brother already dead, he also knew there were no words of comfort to be had. Though they had already dispatched all of the guards, Athos nevertheless drew his sword again and led the way from the dungeons and out of the castle. None of the household staff dared show themselves and the Comte himself had yet to be seen. This, Athos knew, was not good. Soon there would be awkward questions they would have to consider.

After all, Aramis had been meeting with a Spanish spy, and the castle was a mere handful of miles to the border. The identity of a traitor and spy was valuable information. And Aramis, though a musketeer with an obviously loyal heart, had to have a breaking point like any other man.

"Where's his horse?" Porthos grunted once they'd reached the sweeping lawn out back where they had left their mounts. Aramis's had been found wandering on its own, though Athos gave Porthos an incredulous stare. Clearly Aramis wasn't riding anywhere, unless it was in the back of a cart headed for a cemetery. Perhaps Porthos read this on his face, because he snarled, "His horse, damn it! I need his bag! An' we need water, somethin' to wash these cuts out!"

"Porthos..."

"He's alive. I, uh... I ain't ever stitched anyone up before. You?"

Athos regarded the bloody mess of a musketeer that Porthos laid carefully down on the ground. "Once or twice. But-"

"Good. He's got a medical kit he keeps in th' saddlebags, dig that out. I'll get the water."

Athos watched him lumber off. He still had his doubts, but he had to admit, Porthos's ferocious faith that Aramis would still make it out of this urged him to try anyway. Rifling through the spare horse's saddlebags, Athos retrieved a leather pouch which he unrolled to reveal some of the more basic medical instruments. Also in the bag was a swath of bandages and clean rags, which he likewise retrieved. Kneeling over the unconscious musketeer, Athos looked him over helplessly, not sure where to even begin. It looked like mostly cuts and gashes from a blade, deep and nasty, and almost all would require sutures. He saw at least one burn and three broken fingers. Aramis's left shoulder was clearly dislocated.

Getting his doublet off would be a good start, but would jostle the arm too much. Athos regarded the limb, then took Aramis's arm.

"Apologies," he murmured to the unconscious musketeer, before swiftly pulling until he heard the pop of a bone returning to socket.

Aramis's eyes flew open as a garbled cry was ripped from his throat. The musketeer immediately began to thrash back from Athos, arms flailing in an attempt to protect himself. Athos grabbed Aramis's wrists in fear that the musketeer would only cause more damage to himself.

"Aramis," he called. "You're safe. It's me... Athos."

"Aramis?" Porthos had returned, carrying a bucket of water he'd procured, some of which sloshed out over the downed musketeer as Porthos flung himself by his friend's side. "Hey... hey, you're with me, you're alright."

Aramis sank back down, staring up at them through pain-glazed eyes. "Porthos," he whispered.

"Yeah, it's me. We're gonna fix you right up, okay?"

Aramis nodded, then his head drifted back to the side, eyes falling closed. Athos traded a look with Porthos over his still form, but neither spoke. Together, they worked Aramis's doublet off—it would need a myriad of repairs as well, if he survived to wear it again—and surveyed the mess. Athos retrieved the needle and thread from the medic pouch as Porthos started washing the blood away.

"Damn, he's lost a lot of it," Porthos growled. "When I get my hands on that Comte..."

"There isn't time for that," Athos reminded him as he pinched one freshly cleaned gouge together and set the needle to skin in determination. "I can sew these wounds, but we should consider the possibility that Treville needs to be warned."

Porthos stopped what he was doing to stare at him. "Warned about what?"

He really didn't want to be the one to acknowledge the risk, but if Porthos didn't then he would. "What cause would there be to torture him like this if not for the name of the spy he was sent to meet? The Comte must have learned about his mission somehow-"

"An' you think Aramis told him?"

There was a dangerous rumble in Porthos's voice, so Athos offered a deferential shrug. "I'm only saying, no one can be expected to hold out forever, no matter how loyal, and this- Porthos, they spent a lot of time on him."

"I know yer new here," Porthos seethed, jaw clenching. "An' you don't know Aramis like I do. He didn't give 'em anything. Got it?"

Torn between admiration of the loyalty and exasperation at the frank denial, Athos only nodded and went back to sewing Aramis up. He couldn't tell if Aramis was awake or not, breaths shuddering and lids closed, but if he was awake he didn't make a sound. It took what must have been hours, until Athos's hand was starting to cramp from holding the needle, back aching as he stitched as well as he could. Doubtless these would leave visible scars—he had only a rudimentary idea of how to do this, nothing fancy. But at least Aramis wouldn't bleed out from them. This done, Athos splinted the broken fingers together to be looked at when they returned to Paris and simply put a bandage over the burn, as there was no healing ointment on hand.

"What else?" he asked in exhaustion, starting to roll Aramis back onto his side to check for further injury.

The movement jostled the tortured musketeer, who inhaled sharply with a pained cough.

"No more..."

"Aramis," Porthos murmured, sounding pained himself. "I know it hurts, but we gotta make sure there's nothin' open for infection, right?"

Eyes still closed, Aramis nodded. "No more," he repeated, a little stronger.

Athos felt his shoulders grow heavy and he shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, a rare slip of emotion and regret coloring his tone. "I believe we're almost done and then you can-"

"No... there's no more," Aramis cut him off, opening his eyes with a wince. "You got them all. I c-counted. That's all they ever managed to do."

Athos stared at him. "...That's... all?" he echoed in disbelief. There had been enough blood to drown a village in that cell, yards of thread needed to finish all the stitches, but that was "all" they'd done to him? He saw Porthos barely bite back a smirk, but in this case Athos would be more than happy to have been proven wrong.

"What did they want?" the burly musketeer asked his friend now, cupping the back of his neck carefully.

Aramis coughed. "Wanted to know who I was meeting. I don't know how word got out."

Athos traded a look with Porthos. "And...?"

"And nothing. They thought they could convince me to tell them." He snorted. "Amateurs."

Porthos laughed, relief and fondness evident in the gentle squeeze of Aramis's good shoulder. "Good thing we found you, then," he said gleefully. "Before they died of embarrassment."

"Good thing," Aramis agreed. "Was s-starting to get bored." Nevertheless, his eyes were still pained as he gripped both of their arms and didn't try to move. "Thank you."

Athos found himself smiling, not something he often did. These were men he could get used to being around, he decided. "Let's not make a repeat of this though, alright?" he dryly suggested, to be met with a tired chuckle from Aramis.

"No," the musketeer agreed, closing his eyes. "No, no more."

#whumptober2020 #no.6 #no more #the musketeers #fanfiction #BBC musketeers #Aramis whump #Porthos and Athos to the rescue #sorry Aramis #pre-Inseperables #blood #torture happens off screen

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mskathywriteswords · 5 years ago

Text

The Second Hand Unwinds

This is based on a prompt from @there-must-be-a-lock at @cabin-fever-bang.

Warnings that apply? Hurt, comfort, angst.

I owe a massive debt of gratitude to @cabin-fever-bang for letting me peek inside, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @cracksinthewalls, @itmighthavebeenintentional, and @fangirlxwritesx67 for the time and care they took pre-reading/beta reading for me. Massive massive thank you, ladies.

The photo I chose:

How many years had it been? I kept losing count, willing myself to stop. I backtracked from the births and deaths around me.

Ten years, at least.

I could hardly believe it when everything tumbled out of the glove compartment, staring me in the face. Mocking me.

I’d saved the flowers you brought; you were always bringing me flowers. You even planted them all around the house we bought together. The house we wanted to raise a family in.

When we were fifteen, we ran around the backyard, sword fighting with the roses from my mama’s garden.

“En garde,” you said, arm up like a Musketeer.

You used to let me win, but only so that you could hand me the beautiful, untarnished rose at the end.

“M’lady,” you said, bowing down with one arm across your abdomen as you held the flower out.

I always blushed, deeper than the silky petals.

“Come on, I’m beat,” you said, pulling me down into the warm earth. The smell of grass and dirt surrounded us as you held me in your arms.

We plucked the petals, one by one, and you told me how you’d plant them for me in our house, someday. You asked me what colors I wanted, and we’d argue about how many flowers were too many. You said you would shower me in them, and then you did.

For my seventeenth birthday, we went on a road trip. I’m still not sure how you got my daddy to agree, but you did.

“Where do you want to go, sweetheart?” you’d purred in my ear.

“Everywhere.” I was breathless, drunk with you.

You took charge, always knowing the right answer, the right thing to say, the right way to touch me.

We’d been wandering backroads for hours, trying to find a motel or hotel or anywhere that had a proper bed; we’d slept in the car for two nights in a row, and we both desperately needed a shower. Somehow, we’d fallen off the highway and begun to roam. The hours stretched before us like the desert all around us, and before we knew it, we were nowhere.

My hand travelled, at first just innocently over yours on the gear shift, then to your knee. And then, intentionally, stroking up your thigh and back down. You ignored me for as long as you could, and just when I was about to give up, you put your hand over mine. My heart sped at the contact, and when you slid our joined fingers higher? I nearly died.

We finally found an abandoned gas station, and you pulled over.

“I don’t want your first time to be like this,” you said between kisses that spanned my face.

“I don’t care. I just want it to be you.”

I undid the buttons on my dress and you ran with it, pulling the thing off my shoulders almost as if it offended you by covering my body. You made me feel loved. You made me feel soft and worthy. Beautiful.

That first time was meant for speed. Later, in the dingy motel we finally found, you showed me what it was like to really see stars. You showered first, and I had to resist licking every last drop of water from your body as you came from the bathroom, naked and ready.

“Jesus Christ,” I whispered.

“You don’t have to take a shower,” you reminded me.

Your hands slid around my hips and pulled me closer. Your lips never left my mouth, plucking and teasing, telling me without words how much you desired me, even with layers of dirt.

“I really do. Can’t you smell me? I can smell me…”

You laughed, and I loved the way it sounded and felt. My body vibrated with need, but I left you with one last kiss on the cheek.

I’d never showered faster, and I came out from the steamy bathroom with only a towel on my hair, wanting to match your comfort and confidence. It was all for show, because on the inside, I was a wobbly mess.

You were stretched out on the bed, all long legs and hard muscles. I definitely turned several shades of red as my eyes made their way up your body.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered, pulling me from my wandering eyes. “Get over here. Please.”

This moment was about us, and I wanted to live in it forever. You never gave me reason to cover my body, not that night or ever.

Your skin was rough, but your hands were gentle as you helped me settle onto the bed beside you.

“I love you,” I said on a sigh as my fingers slipped through your almost dry hair.

You smiled at me, that megawatt Dean Winchester smile, and every part of me went gooey. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

As your mouth moved across the stretched skin of my collarbones, I tried not to shift too much, worried I would distract you away from the way you were touching and kissing me. My legs moved, rubbing together and tangling with yours, until you were situated on top of me.

You didn’t head straight for the finish line, though. No, you slid up and then back down, thick and nestled against me, so very very close to inside of me. The car had been different -- it was efficient and cramped. This was luxurious, even in a shitty motel. This was soft moans and gasps, fingers that made me explode, and your hands guiding and leading me.

When you slid inside of me, I bit my lip.

“Don’t hold it in,” you said. “I wanna hear everything you have to say. You feel so good.”

The way my body stretched to accommodate you was the most pleasurable pain I’d ever felt. You were patient, waiting until the pinched expression left my face, and there was nothing left but lust.

A soft “oh” left my mouth as you moved slowly. Your mouth stayed near mine, whispering your needs, as you picked up your pace. It was all I could do to cling to you, fingers digging into your shoulders, hips lifting to meet yours. Every part of me was yours in that moment, and vice versa. The past didn’t matter, the future was ours to claim.

Every day we kept driving, and I kept distracting you. I was like a new woman, hungry in ways I’d never even understood before. I’d heard my friends talking about sex, but this was nothing like what they described. You weren’t hairy and sweaty, or a “two pump chump”. It was beautiful and lusty, and I couldn’t get enough of you.

Finally, we knew we had no choice and we drove back toward home. Back to the expectations and constraints of our lives. We had school and jobs, parents and siblings. After so much undiluted time together, I had no idea how to sleep alone. I felt raw waking up by myself, not being able to feel your stubble tickling my skin.

I also had no idea I was pregnant.

It took me longer than it really should have to figure it out, but I was honestly grateful to not know until after we’d both graduated.

I stared at the test, wondering how to tell you. How to tell Daddy.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, watching me fidget in the booth across from you. “If this is about money, don’t worry…”

The laugh bubbled up my throat with bile, and I ran to the bathroom. After I’d splashed my face with water and taken several deep breaths, sure the smell of old fryer oil and stale coffee wouldn’t get to me again, I walked back out.

Dean, I never could have anticipated that smile.

“I can’t believe it,” you said quietly, taking my hands into yours after I sat back down. “I mean, we didn’t plan it, but I can’t believe it.”

“Dean… I … we ... “

You squeezed my hands. “I know. I should have picked up on it earlier, the way you’re glowing.”

A beat passed between us. “Is it wrong that it makes me want you so bad?”

Your eyes were lit on fire as you spoke.

“How are you so calm and horny?”

Of course the waitress showed up just then. We all shared a laugh, and I watched with delight as you ate your cheeseburger with such smug satisfaction. I was terrified, and you were certain.

We got married at the courthouse the day after I told you. Sam was there, and Mama and Daddy. It was everyone we needed close to us.

When our daughter was born, you gave me pink baby roses, and I pressed them into her book. You took pride in doing all the things that were never done for you, you’d told me. You bought a beautiful baby book, embossed with her name.

Emma Rose Winchester

You doted in ways I never even knew a dad could, loving Emma with all your heart and then some. Other dads would complain about waking up in the middle of the night, and you did so with glee. You were tired, and so was I, and we stuck together, like a good team does. You were never more handsome.

When Emma turned three, we planned a party with the family like we’d hosted every year before. You fretted over getting things right, wanting the perfect cake, the perfect decorations, and of course the perfect gift for her. She was three, what did she care? But you did.

I watched as you took a handful of balloons out to tie them onto the mailbox. Several years had passed, but you still wore your jeans like you’d just walked off a runway. It felt like my own personal parting gift, in hindsight.

Emma was fussing from the other room, so I walked away to see what she’d gotten into, her sense of curiosity even stronger than yours.

When you didn’t come back inside, I got worried, but figured maybe you found something in the yard to fix. The house and yard was tiny, but ours, and you took such great pride in them.

The family showed up, and I was confused. I asked Sam to help me with something in the kitchen.

“Sam, did you see Dean on your way in?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. “Did he get distracted working on his car again?”

The bubbles in my stomach were turning into lava.

Sam smiled, and made me feel like everything was okay for a fraction of a second. “Nope, garage is all closed up.”

At the sight of my face, Sam’s expression changed. “Is he gone?”

I gave the smallest nod I could manage.

“What happened? You two fight?”

“No. Almost never,” I said quietly.

That night, I called all of the hospitals looking for you, or any John Doe. I called the police in every precinct. I texted Sam about a hundred times. Each time, he replied and reassured me that wherever you were, there had to be a good reason you were there and not with us.

As the days stretched into weeks, and I knew you weren’t coming back, the anger was hard to keep to myself. You were my everything. My rock. How do you contain a bomb once it’s been set on fire with grief?

Emma was the hardest to tell.

Every day, she would stand at the fucking window in the front of the house. She would pull the curtains back, convinced it was the day you’d be home. She would wait to see you there, standing at the mailbox, tying her birthday balloons for everyone to see.

She blamed herself, Dean, because it was her birthday that you left on.

Our baby was five years old before she stopped hoping, stopped waiting. You could see it in the shell of who she became. It wore her down to almost nothing when she accepted defeat.

Daddy moved in with us, after Mama passed. It was dark and quiet in that tiny house, all of the life sucked away when you left. I didn’t blame him when Daddy passed a few months later. Aside from Emma, there was nothing in there worth a damn. Even Sam had stopped visiting. I suspected watching Emma grow up was too difficult for him, seeing your eyes reflected back at him every day.

So I was startled and confused when I went to check the mail, and there you were, standing where I’d last seen you, Sam right next to you.

“Fuck you, Dean Winchester.”

It was all I could think of in that moment. The only words that felt like they might possibly encompass every feeling I’d stored up over ten long and lonely years of living and raising a kid by myself.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

As if sorry removed every pitying glance my parents had given me. As if calling me sweetheart would remove the sleepless nights and endless days of working multiple jobs to raise Emma.

“What did you say?” My voice was tight and angry, and you knew it.

“I know I was gone a few days…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I nearly shouted. The saliva pooled in my mouth, hot, wet anger, and I couldn’t hold it in. “A few days?”

You looked genuinely confused.

“Did you fall and hit your head, pretty boy?”

“No, I … I was gone ten days.”

You sure did look like it, I had to give you that. You hadn’t aged a single day.

“Do I look like you’ve been gone ten days, Dean?”

You evaluated my face, looking carefully. Your hands twitched with what I could only assume was the desire to touch and feel my cheeks, my neck, my everything. They balled into fists and emotions flew across your face so fast, I couldn’t read them all.

“How long was it?” you finally asked in a whisper. Your eyes were pooled with tears.

My voice was flat when I answered you, every part of my energy focused on keeping the emotion out of things. “Ten years.”

The tears fell as you looked at me, and your attention was suddenly diverted to the front of the house. I turned and saw Emma looking through the curtains. Maybe she didn’t recognize you anymore. Maybe she was too angry to try. Maybe she was shocked, but she simply stood there, watching us.

“I missed ten years of this?”

Sam and I made eye contact after I looked everywhere but at Dean. I couldn’t do it anymore, it was tearing me apart inside. I wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms and have him spin me around, erase the hurt and pain of the decade that had stretched out between us.

“Maybe hear him out?” Sam asked.

As if there was any universe in existence which I wouldn’t have heard you out.

Our eyes connected again, and your shoulders visibly relaxed as you looked at me.

“Okay.”

Without another word, I turned and went inside, hoping you’d follow.

I didn’t know the right thing to do with Emma. She was thirteen; not exactly a child, but of course I felt a motherly need to protect her. How was I supposed to know if you were going to disappear again?

Her eyes got wide when she saw you. She looked at you with such deep scrutiny, then looked at me, and back at you. Emma opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Instead of focusing on why you’d been gone in that moment, I wrapped my arms around Emma and tried to comfort her. Tried to offer her a place to fall apart, like I knew she would need.

When I felt your arms around me, the world seemed to melt away. The sands of time fell heavy and fast through the hourglass, and you were there. You were holding Emma, and you were holding me.

Your breath was hot against my hair, and I felt your inhale hitch.

I was taken back to all those years ago, when we talked about being parents before it was real. I closed my eyes and remembered how much you’d loved me. How much you’d loved Emma. Your absolute unquestionable pride in being a father.

And I knew.

It broke me to realize, because it meant I would need to find a way to let go of the anger I’d built up and held onto. But I knew. I knew you would not leave unless you had no choice.

I took one of my arms from Emma and wrapped it around you, pulling you into our circle.

“You have a lot to catch up on.”

#spn #fancition #supernatural #dean fucking winchester #photo prompt #cabin fever #dean winchester fic #dean x reader

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years ago

Text

Three Days ~ 62

~*~Emma~*~

I slapped at my phone until the alarm stopped. My head was exploding. Why did I think drinking champagne all day was a good idea? I guess it was better than being sober all day. Thankfully, there was Advil in my purse and a bottle of water on the nightstand. The alarm went off again. I grabbed my phone, silenced the alarm, and checked what I'd done. There were alarms set for every fifteen minutes. Must have hit snooze last time. At least I'd had the forethought to set my alarm early enough to pack. There was a little blinking light telling me I had a text.

Sebastian ~ Up early for a TV interview. Hope you're not feeling too bad. Enjoy your morning with the women.

Sebastian ~ If we miss each other have a safe flight.

Sebastian ~ Check Instagram

Uh oh. Wonder what he posted. I touched the notification saying he'd posted and laughed. The mouse ears were so him. He looked adorable. The mocking expression on his face and the caption was perfect. From the many, many comments his fans agreed. I liked the post but went back to text to comment.

Emma ~ Funny, funny boy. And cute.

Emma ~ Head bursting. My own fault.

Emma ~ xoxo

I showered, packed, got ready, and double-checked I had everything before dragging my bag downstairs. The house was quiet. I'd said my good-byes to Dad, Amy, and Katie last night. Mom came down as I was finishing my toast and fruit. She was dressed in scrubs and looked like her Advil hadn't kicked in yet. She went straight to the Keurig, "How's your head?"

I held up my coffee cup, "Caffeine and Advil have helped. You?"

"Why did we think that was a good idea?"

I laughed, "It was fun."

"You need to drink a lot of water before your flight."

"Will do." I grabbed us both a bottle of water out of the fridge.

In the car, mom called into work and did her typical morning meeting. I used to love going in to do rounds. Very Grey’s Anatomy. Not quite as fascinating as an adult. I used the time to post a couple of things on Instagram. Amy and I had mom take identical pictures yesterday and I posted them with dad’s bad joke about not being able to imagine what I'd look like with short hair. The first pick was me with long hair and if you swiped you got Amy with shorter hair. One more swipe gave you a picture of us both.

Chris Evans was the first comment, "You just gave Seb a heart attack."

I sent back, "Na, we had a FT date last night."

If Sebastian, Chris, and Chace were going to be commenting I needed to go through my followers and cull the people with which I didn't interact. By the look of follow requests, Amy must have given out my user name. Most were people from Saturday. That wasn't going to happen. Lauren was the only possible and I left her on the list. The others I declined. Even without the Three Musketeers, I wouldn’t have approved them.

The shelter had a real name, but if you knew where and what it was you referred to it as a home for lost girls. There was usually a wide range of ages, but they were all lost girls. Mom went to set up and I joined the other women in the common room. There was no time limit for staying and every time I came here it was a mix of old and new faces. Stacy, one of the therapists from my rehab facility, was now the director and she joined us ten minutes after I'd arrived. She called for everyone to gather and I joined in their morning group. So many women with so many stories just trying to make it through the nights. I was cautious with what I disclosed but easily gave feedback and comfort. When group was over mom started calling today's patients back. Others went off to start their day and I stayed with whoever was left. I spent a long time with a girl who couldn’t be much over eighteen. Her timid jumpiness told me she was new, her story fresh. I sat with her, Stacy, and two other residents until they convinced her to join them for some distraction.

Stacy studied my face, "You look happy. Things going well?"

There was always a check. She did groups when I was in rehab, so while I worked with her it wasn’t individual. I’m sure she knew more about me from treatment planning meetings than I’d shared with her. I had asked Trevor once what he shared and he said just the basics, but not details of my story. "Very. Work, good volleyball team, life in general." I felt the smile forming.

"That's a boyfriend face if I’ve ever seen one."

"He’s pretty great." I glanced to the hall making sure my mom wasn't there. "Helped me get through this long weekend."

"I guess that means I won't be seeing you more often. You're very soothing. I could put you to good use."

I cringed, "Don't let mom hear you say that."

The fun thing about talking to Stacy in this setting is I get to know about her life too. We caught up like old friends until mom was ready to go.

"There's enough time to get a coffee. You could tell me more about you and Sebastian."

Seriously? I've been here four days. We're on the way to the airport. This is the last possible moment she could ask about us, about him. I am doubtful of the sincerity of her curiosity.

"Mom, I appreciate the olive branch, but no, I don't want to have coffee and talk about Sebastian."

She didn't look at me.

I felt a little bad. "Is there something going on with Amy I don't know about?"

Her face read panic when she looked over, "Why would you ask that?"

"Because you and dad are so, I don’t know, protective. She hasn't used since she got pregnant. She's a good mom. Work is good. Saturday was fun. She and Max are a thing. Since Christmastime, we’ve talked and texted more. She seems in a good place. I don’t get why I’m supposed to pretend my life sucks. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No, she's doing well. Can you understand we want to keep it that way?"

"Of course, but is sheltering her like this necessary?" She started to say something and I held up my hand. "Let me finish. You're trying so hard to protect her you've hurt me. I’ve never felt less important than this visit. Completely discounted. Like you don't care about my life, my happiness."

"That's not true, but Amy..."

I interrupted, angry now, "No, mom. I tell you my feelings are hurt and I feel unimportant and instead of addressing me you say "but Amy." I don't brag about myself, but it seems like anything above my total failure is assumed to make her inferior. If that's true she needs a better therapist. Did you ever consider that your over-protectiveness tells her she's not capable? Just like when we were sixteen, what you see as best is the worst possible thing for me. You saw us as broken and damaged. When I didn't see myself that way you focused on Amy instead of putting aside your guilt and fear to figure out what I needed. I didn’t need pity or to be seen as half a person damaged by a tragedy. I needed to be seen as a strong whole person who had something bad happen. Twelve years later my experience is still less because I wasn't addicted to heroin. The rest was different but equally bad."

"I understand that, Emma. I'm proud of you. I don't know the reasons, why you soar and she struggles. Maybe part is on us. We were devasted and grieving. Amy's reaction made sense. Yours didn’t. You are not less important. Your happiness matters. You are stronger than Amy. It takes nothing from you to restrain what you talk about in front of her."

Right back where we started. "The only reason it doesn’t is that I won't let it."

The look on her face was relieved. Pleased. She misunderstood and I wasn't willing to clarify.

It does take something from me to diminish my happiness and hide my successes. It does take something away from me to have my parents not ask about me except for the last half hour of my visit or expect me to whisper in the corner. With the limited time I spend with my biological family, I could do as they ask. The problem isn't as much what they ask of me, as much as their complete unawareness or lack of concern about my feelings. As Eli, and probably Sebastian, would say, "they chose Amy."

I choose me.

The silence was uncomfortable, so I filled it talking about room switches at work and my ideas for changing my room’s theme. It's possible I was being childish by refusing to talk about Sebastian. I definitely felt like a child right now. A surly one.

At the airport, we hugged, exchanged I love yous, and she told me to tell Sebastian it was nice to meet him. I said I would. Might have been a lie.

In the baggage check line, I mulled over options. I wanted a friendly voice, but I wanted to leave this behind. Angie and I had texted several times a day as usual and she knew what was going on.

Emma ~ Heading toward security. Once I clear I could use a friendly voice.

Angie ~ You can keep me company while I fold laundry. Support or distraction?

Emma ~ Distraction

Angie ~ Oh good, I want to hear the story behind the mouse ears. He looked hot.

Emma ~ Will do!

There was plenty of time before my flight since I’d opted out of coffee with mom. I headed to the food court area. The first thing I saw was a Savannah Candy Kitchen and bought enough pralines to share at school tomorrow. We had to have our rooms packed by Friday if we wanted the custodial staff to move us. Luckily, I kept everything in my cabinets in totes and bins, so that was done. I enjoyed taking things down and starting over. I’d throw on some music, dance, and sing my way through the day.

One bite of praline and my stomach started screaming. I’d had toast and fruit for breakfast to work through the hangover. That was gone. I’d forgotten there was a Varsity in Terminal C. Mmmm. Cheeseburger, some home-made fries, and a super thick orange shake. I could walk to the one at UGA from my Freshman dorm. I found a table in a corner and took a picture to make people jealous with later before calling Angie.

“Mind if I eat while we talk?”

“We take our phones to the bathroom and keep on FaceTime.”

“Good point.” Not like we didn’t go to the bathroom together. Seemed silly to hang up. “Sebastian told me I could watch him pee the other night.”

She laughed, “How did this come up in conversation?”

“We were discussing birthday sex and it took a turn into limits. Watching him pee is as far as he’ll go.” We both laughed.

“Perfectly acceptable limit.”

“Definitely.” I shoved a fry in my mouth and moaned my approval. “He can feel the strings of my IUD.”

“Eli can’t.”

“Does Eli have short fingers?”

“Do you have a short vagina?” We laughed some more, both knowing we’d be checking out their fingers the next time we were together. “What’s the deal with the ears?”

“I signed an NDA yesterday. Sebastian felt bad about it. Disney was the only studio on the thing, so I sent him ears.” I shrugged and took a bite of my burger.

“That’s cute. Both of you. There’s something hot about Disney knowing he’s going to tell you secrets and making sure you can’t repeat them.”

I talked around a mouthful of hamburger, “I thought the same thing!”

We talked about nothing and everything until my flight was called. Sometime in there, Eli came home and we were on speakerphone for a while. They had a gig this weekend and I’d be in town. Sebastian and I hadn’t talked about plans yet. I’d think about plans after I had my hands on him. Literally. About an hour after.

Once we were high enough, I switched my phone on and connected to the plane's WiFi. I’d missed a text while I was talking to Eli and Angie.

Sebastian ~ Woo hoo, where are you?

Emma ~ 30,000 feet above Georgia.

Emma ~ I was talking to Angie and Eli and missed you. ☹

Sebastian ~ No sad face. I’m here. I miss you too.

Emma ~ Hi . . . what are you doing?

Sebastian ~ Finished with a lunch. Meeting/sightseeing trip soon. Pretty sure that means going to a bar.

Emma ~ Or strip club. Look, don’t touch.

Sebastian ~ Promise. Don’t think that’s the plan. What are you doing tonight?

Emma ~ Not a damn thing. Sitting in the quiet of my house.

Sebastian ~ Sounds peaceful. I’m afraid to ask how today went.

Emma ~ Shelter was great. Drive to airport not so much. Nothing worth whining about. I feel like I’ve done enough of that lately.

Sebastian ~ Not whining. I know you got this, but I liked being leaned on.

Emma ~ I liked you being there. Thank you again.

Sebastian ~ You’re welcome. Work tomorrow?

Emma ~ Yep, have to everything boxed up by Friday. Mallory and I are just switching rooms. I’ll be hosting lunches next year. Closer to the cafeteria. Closer to parking. Same view just the other side of the building.

Sebastian ~ Makes it easy. I’ll call you tomorrow. Not such a jam-packed day.

Emma ~ No worries. I see you in two days.

Sebastian ~ Going to kiss you so hard you’ll push me away.

Emma ~ Wouldn’t count on that, baby cakes.

Sebastian ~ Baby cakes . . . lol

Emma ~ Maybe one day I’ll pick one.

Sebastian ~ I enjoy the variety.

Emma ~ Very mood dependent

Sebastian ~ So asshole would be angry?

Emma ~ I’m far more creative than asshole.

Sebastian ~ I don’t doubt that. For now, Mr. Baby Cakes will do.

Emma ~ And you may address me as Princess Emeliana of Seattle. Dare you to scream that when you come.

Sebastian ~ Now I have to at least try. I’ll practice later.

Emma ~ Tease.

Sebastian ~ Only in the best way. I have to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

Sebastian ~ I miss you, Em

Emma ~ Miss you too, Bastian

I went back to Sebastian's Instagram account and did a quick scroll through the comments on his latest post. Even though I wasn't mentioned it was the first sign of me on his IG and I was curious. The closest anyone got was a question if they were his ears because they were Minnie ears. That was irrelevant. I picked them because they matched my bikini and he would notice. I didn't go back to the picture from brunch, but it did get me thinking. I had no strong feelings one way or another about being photographed with him. I’ve never been into the whole Instagram official or Facebook relationship thing. Don't even have Facebook. Even for a non-celebrity, I think social media is more about perception than truth. I am guilty of that too. Hell, even this weekend. I was not immune to liking the attention from friends when I posted something. The DM's after Chris' comment had been fun as shit. There was the group picture from the tournament, but if you didn’t know it was Sebastian wrapped around me, you'd never recognize Sebastian. Ok, a fan would.

Sebastian had said we'd talk about fans later. He’d mentioned they weren't always nice to his friends or girlfriends. I went looking and it didn't take long to find a blog that chronicled his dating history. I was both intrigued and frightened. I understand the public figure piece and fan culture. But being able to see all this about my boyfriend felt like I was looking through his phone gallery and text messages. Alternately, if everyone else knew why shouldn’t I? My solution was to avoid information on Sebastian's relationships as much as I could and stick to fan reactions. It wasn't really hard to do. Pretty quickly I realized Twitter was a hot mess. The ease with which people hit reply and said things I hoped they'd never say face to face was like a shark feeding frenzy. Comment sections on Instagram weren't quite as bad. It lacked the voraciousness. Something about the way comments were nested with replies instead of a never-ending thread seemed less frantic. I now understood what Sebastian had said about the fans tearing each other apart. So often what should have been a disagreement turned into personal attacks. That shit was awful. Comments about friends and girlfriends were the typical fan bullshit. Friends were using him, exploiting the relationship, sharing pictures he didn't want them to, and bragging. Girlfriends weren't good enough, not pretty enough, also using him, and baiting fans. Several of the comments were fake nice. I'm sure some of that was trying to get on the friend, girlfriend, or his good side. Still, the bulk was positive. The negative minority was vocal and vicious.

One of the more interesting offshoots were Sebastian's reactions. They were stretched over years and more toward the whole situation. There were comments he made about it being out of line, hurtful to him, and few where'd he'd lost it and basically told someone to back off. I enjoyed the video clips with him talking about the toxicity and his position that he (and everyone else) needed to live their lives to make themselves happy. The biggest criticism of him was him not making them stop or coming to the defense of his girlfriends. Not sure how he'd make anyone stop. I was sure his lack of publicly defending wasn't indicative of anything except a refusal to engage. He would have taken shit if he had. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. It was clear from our limited conversations on the topic, that he was unhappy with the idea of me being attacked. I wonder if the previous girlfriends were as upset by his assumed indifference as the fans were?

I caught the odd detail or a comment he'd made on an ex’s post. I kept scrolling. It was none of my business. Plus, I wasn't sure how I'd feel about seeing them. I felt a twitch of jealousy with what I had seen, but it was tempered with my belief that exes were exes for a reason. I think knowing too many details of those who came before could lead to comparisons and uncomfortable conversations. Wasn’t super excited to tell him about this, but I would.

As soon as we were given clearance to use our phones, I made a call, knowing it would go to voice mail. "Hey Trevor, it's Emma. Do you have some time for me? Nothing critical. I just got back from Georgia and wanted to talk. Talk to you soon."

I was almost home when Trevor called back, "I always have time for you, Emma."

I laughed, "Only because you like being able to say you've worked with someone for twelve years."

"Sort of. I'm invested. I like keeping up with you. Meet you at the office about five?"

It was almost four, "Perfect. Thank you, Trevor." That gave me time to unpack, start a load of laundry, and make a grocery list.

The office where Trevor and I met wasn't his. One of his friends had a private practice and we'd met there since I moved to Beacon. Before that, it was video sessions. It was after hours, so Trevor met me at the door and locked it behind me. We hugged briefly and I said, "Thank you for seeing me."

Trevor shook his head, "I'm glad you called." He held out his hand, directing me to the office.

"I hope I didn't screw up a parent's night out. I'll send Kristy a gift certificate to a spa. One with childcare. The baby is six months now?"

"Sara is five months. Want to see a picture?"

"Of course." I scoffed. He unlocked his phone and showed me. "She's beautiful, Trevor. I'm so happy for you. You guys will be great parents."

He smiled, "And how are yours?"

I shrugged with a grimace, "Same as always."

I spent the next who knows how long telling him the events and conversations of the last four days. We'd worked together long enough he knew my nonverbals and I knew to add in the words for my emotions. It saved a lot of time with him going back and making me “name my feelings”. When I finished with the car ride today, I took a deep breath and huffed it out.

Trevor said, "Wow."

I laughed. "I know. It was a lot."

"No." He shook his head, "I mean wow, you said all that to your mom. You should be proud of yourself. I'm proud of you. That couldn't have been easy."

"I'd already talked to Ed and Sebastian about everything before, so my thoughts were sorted. I don't feel bad about anything I said, but I'm not sure I'm right." This is why I’d called Trevor. I needed the objective voice of reason. "Am I wrong?"

"Your experience isn't right or wrong."

I just glared at him.

Trevor leaned forward, "You're not wrong. What happened this weekend isn't ok. It's not ok to ask you to hide your happiness. It’s not ok for them to not ask you about your life. It's not ok when you say your feelings are hurt and you feel unimportant for your mother, or anyone else, to tell you how you are wrong."

I wiped my eyes. I felt relief with the validation "Thank you."

He reached over and put a hand on my arm. "You know this, Emma."

"I do." I nodded. "It was just a lot and I needed someone objective." I laughed, "Although Ed told me I've made choices and there are consequences."

Trevor laughed, "He's not wrong, but I think he agrees with most of your choices. He'll tell you if he doesn’t."

"Definitely."

Trevor leaned back and tented his fingers, "Why now? None of this is new. You've gone along with being careful with what you tell Amy. You already limit time with your family because of all these same things. Why say enough now?"

I didn't even have to think. "Sebastian." I started to smile. Trevor started to smile "I’ve meet this man I'm excited about. I want to tell my family, my parents and sister, about him. We set up a video call so they could meet him. Mom was rude. Then they wanted to know nothing more until I was packed and in the car. Tempering my excitement about work and friends is one thing. Sebastian is another thing completely."

"What would you have told them?"

"What would I tell them or what would I tell you?"

Trevor thought about his answer. "Me."

I preferred that answer. I don't know what I would have told them. The answer was very different now than when I was on the plane to Georgia. "Sebastian is a good man. He is good to me... good for me. I love how we talk. I love how he owns his shit. I love how he supports me." It took me a minute to figure out the next bit because I knew Trevor would ask. "I think we crashed into each other and just went for it. But not sharing secrets all at once then regretting having said too much. As we talk and are part of each other’s lives stuff is coming out naturally."

"As you trust more you reveal more. Both of you." Trevor summed that up nicely and I nodded in agreement. "What have you told him?"

"Enough. A lot. Not everything. He doesn't know how I met Ed. He doesn't know all the reasons we went to rehab. There's a chunk of time he doesn't know about." I smiled.

"You gonna tell him?"

I was surprised by how the question hit me. "I never told Jimmy."

Trevor made a face and tilted his head back and forth. "It was fresher. You were both awfully young. You're much more accepting of what you did than you were then." He squinted his eyes and studied me, "You're uncomfortable."

It was a statement, not a question. "I feel ashamed of myself." I chewed on my lip. "We've talked about how relationships are about being brave enough to be vulnerable with another person. We've done both and we've talked about it what that’s been like." I rubbed my finger over where I'd bit too hard. "I'm not brave enough to be that vulnerable."

"Oh, I think you are. You're scared, but you are brave enough. The night we met I was in awe of your bravery. That opinion hasn't changed. I'm not saying you should leave here and tell him everything. But since you feel ashamed you might want to think about talking to him before that shame gets in the way. What are you afraid of?"

"Sebastian will be upset. He has a big heart. He'll be anxious if I'm ok. He’ll think too much."

"Sure. When we learn someone we love has been through something traumatic it's normal to be upset and concerned about them. It’s a good thing.” He paused, looked at me, and spoke again, “What are you afraid of, Emma?"

I was angry at Trevor for not the first time. He makes me look at things I don't want to. I know it’s his job, I count on him to do it, but it pisses me off. "If he knows what I did... the things I had to learn to accept... the things I still struggle with... I like the way he looks at me like I’m good and precious. I'm afraid he'll see me differently." Took no time for the tears to fall.

Trevor said nothing for what felt like an hour, letting me sit in the emotion. When he spoke it was his quiet soothing voice. I used to get mad at his comforting tone too, like I didn’t deserve it, but I know better now. "Seeing you differently doesn't have to be negative. You've not told enough people to be confident it that. Who have you told?"

Trevor knew the answer. He wanted to remind me I knew it too. "Angie and Eli know most everything. Ed knows it all. And you."

"Did any of us react negatively?" I shook my head no. "They were upset. They empathized with you. But it didn't change how they loved you. It made them love you more. Your fear isn't in line with reality. There's no reason. . ." He stopped and took a breath. "Do you love him, Emma?"

"Yes."

"Have you told him?"

"No, I haven't seen him yet."

"Has he told you he loves you?"

"No."

"Does he?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely."

"So if everyone you’ve told loved you more there is no reason to think Sebastian would be any different.”

We sat quietly until my tears gave way to a loud cathartic laugh. "You are good."

"Thanks." He blew on his nails and shined them on his shirt.

"How did you do that? Seriously, how?"

Sometimes he'd tell me how he did his therapy magic. Luckily, today was one of those days. "There was something not fitting. Sebastian wasn’t fitting with the others for you. You didn't look at me when I said they'd loved you more. I went on a hunch. You'd not said you loved him. So, I walked you through that so he fit where you could see him as love plus story equals more love."

"Fascinating"

"I know you’re not ready to go public with your story, but I hope someday you will. You could make such a difference in so many lives. I know you channel that into teaching, but if you ever change your mind your story and successes will matter. Just keep it in mind."

"I will." We were winding down. "Do you want to see Sebastian?"

"Yes."

"He's not as cute as your Sara, but he'll do for me." I handed him my phone.

Trevor looked at my phone, then me, then the phone again. "Holy shit, Emma."

"You know him?"

"I am huge Marvel comic nerd. There's stuff in my office. You didn’t notice?"

"I’m not a Marvel nerd. Well, now, sort of."

He laughed, "I got to do family therapy with the lead singer of Pearl Jam. Now I'll get to do couples therapy with the Winter Soldier."

I stretched out my leg and kicked him in the shin, "We do not need couples therapy. We each have our own therapist."

We laughed for a nice long while before Trevor tied everything up. "I'm glad you called to get the validation you needed and to at least look at adding someone to the list of who can support you. I was with you when you told Ed. If you need me to be there if you decide to tell Sebastian I will be. You are correct in thinking the men you love most will struggle most."

I nodded, "I'll think about it. Thank you."

"Thank you for the most successful and challenging session I've had in weeks."

“Glad I could amuse you.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction #sebastian stan X ofc #marvel actor fanfiction

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echo-bleu · 5 years ago

Text

By The Sword

Malex Musketeers AU. I’m reposting this little series here (from AO3) ahead of the @alterarnm fic I’m hoping to finish by Thursday (movie fusion, though it’s a show). This was originally written for the Whumptober prompt “Stab Wound” but it also fits with today’s theme “Pre-1900s”.

Alex barely makes it all the way to the garrison before he collapses. He falls to his knees the moment he's inside the large doors, with no energy left in him to make it to his quarters.

“Captain!” someone calls out. “Liz! Maria! The Captain's back, and he's injured!”

“Alex!” This time it's Maria's worried voice. Alex feels her crouch beside him. “Alex, what's wrong? Where are you hurt?”

“Shoulder,” he murmurs. Maria gently pries his hand away from the wound on the inside of his left shoulder, not far above his heart, and hisses.

“Alex, you got stabbed?” she asks. “Kyle, get over here!”

“Alex!” Liz calls, joining them.

“I'm okay,” Alex murmurs, trying to stand back up.

“No you're not,” Maria says. “You have a stab wound and you've lost a lot of blood. Now how about you let us get you to bed?”

Alex just nods and relents. Liz slings his right arm around her shoulders and pulls him up. Alex tries not to put too much of his weight on her, but between the bloodloss and his leg, he's unable to stand under his own power. Liz supports him without flinching, though. She may be short, but she's stronger than she looks−otherwise she would never have made it through Musketeer training.

Maria stays on the other side for balance, though she doesn't touch his arm. Alex is grateful for that, because he almost passed out the last time he tried to move his shoulder. The three-hour ride back to the garrison has been hell.

Kyle, the garrison's doctor, joins them halfway to Alex's quarters, his medical bag in hands. He helps Liz lower Alex onto his bed and immediately starts removing Alex's leathers.

“Your shirt isn't salvageable, but these can be cleaned,” he says, handing them off to Maria. “Good leather is pricey.”

“Kyle, no offense, but we don't really care about his uniform right now,” Liz says, annoyed. “How about the wound?”

“Get me some water to clean it out, and I'll tell you!” Kyle rolls his eyes.

Alex only barely follows the conversation, exhausted. He grits his teeth as Kyle runs a wet cloth on the partially scabbed wound.

“It's not life-threatening, as long as it doesn't get infected,” Kyle diagnoses. “But it definitely needs stitches.”

Alex winces. He expected it, but it's never fun. He's had his fair share of injuries over the years−more than his fair share, actually, since an infected wound took his right leg in the last war. Everyone expected him to retire then, or at least retire from the field, as he'd just been made Captain, but he got thoroughly bored of desk work after a week, and Liz and Maria were simply not as good a team without him. So he worked his ass off to get back on his feet and train to fight with his new prosthetic, and within less than a year, they were the best Musketeer team of all Antar again.

Liz hands him a glass. “Bourbon,” she says. “You're going to need it.”

Alex nods his thanks. He barely has time to swallow the drink before Kyle digs into his injury, checking for dirt, and he arches back, biting back a scream. Liz offers him a cloth to bite onto.

“I'm going to bind your arm to your chest for now so you don't tear the stitches,” Kyle says when he's done with the stitching. By then, Alex is exhausted and covered in sweat, so he doesn't protest. His leg has definitively cured him of his tendency to take injuries lightly, anyway.

He gestures to his leg, which is painful and raw after the abuse it took today. “You want me to remove it?” Liz asks. Alex nods.

“So, who was it this time?” Maria asks, while Liz pulls of his boot and works on the latch of his prosthetic.

“My father's men, who else,” Alex answers tiredly. “But they had someone else with them, I couldn't see his face.”

He could swear he recognized his stance, though. But it's impossible. The man it belonged to is long dead. But the way he ducked left, right before plunging his blade into Alex's shoulder…

Alex doesn't know many people who can fight that well. He's one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom, even now, and this person bested him like he already knew all his tricks.

He ponders on that for a long time, after the other file out of his room. He's spent but restless, the pain preventing him from sleeping for more than a few minutes at a time. He can't find a comfortable position to lie in. His free hand keeps going to the pendant around his neck, as his thoughts wander. He traces the gold ring, and then the medallion, without opening it.

Why did this man, cloaked and hooded, remind him so much of the man he once almost married?

He swipes at his eyes before the tears can fall, angry with himself for letting his thoughts take him there. Of course that man wasn't Michael: Michael has been dead for ten years. The anniversary is coming up, Alex realizes. He died the day their wedding was set to take place, a reflection of his father's twisted mind. Ten years, in less than a week. Maybe that's why Michael was on his mind so much today.

Sitting up, Alex decides he's done lying in bed. He can be careful of his arm and still make himself useful. Putting his prosthetic and his boots back on is hell with only one hand, but he manages after a few minutes. He rummages his chest for a clean shirt and pulls it over his head awkwardly, leaving the left sleeve empty as his arm is strapped to his chest.

“Alex!” Liz exclaims from the courtyard, when she sees him coming down the stairs. “You shouldn't be out of bed yet!”

“I'm fine,” Alex says. “Don't worry, I'll be careful.” He knows Liz is just as scared as he is of him getting another infection, but he really wants to shake off her concern. This whole business has put him in an awful mood, and the fact that he's light-headed from bloodloss and in pain doesn't make it better. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

“The king requested us to escort his children tomorrow back from the summer palace,” Liz says.

Alex sighs. “Are we on babysitting duty again?”

The twin prince and princess, Max and Isobel, who are about Alex's age, aren't really as annoying as children, but they tend to scoff at having bodyguards, and regularly ignore the Musketeers' safety requests. They like to travel a lot, especially between the royal houses all over the country, and the king has taken to requesting his best Musketeers to guard them since the latest threats on their lives, even though it should be a job for his royal Guard. But everyone knows Valenti's Musketeers are better fighters than Manes' Red Guard, especially with Alex Manes at their command. Something that angers his father to no end.

“They're not that bad,” Liz shrugs. “You won't be going anyway, you're injured.”

“And you're not saying that at all because you have a crush on Prince Max,” Maria interjects, handing Alex a bowl of soup as he sits at the table. “How are you feeling?” she adds to Alex.

“I'm okay,” Alex says. “Just sore.”

“You're the one who keeps flirting with Princess Isobel,” Liz retorts to Maria. “What, you thought I hadn't noticed?”

Alex shakes his head at his friends' antics. They've been inseparable ever since he first joined the Musketeers. They're the best of friends in every situation, funny and supportive. With them, he even forget, sometimes, the life he left behind.

“What's got you so worked up?” Maria asks, and Alex realizes he's gotten lost in his thoughts again. His hand has made its way to his pendant against his will, and Liz and Maria are both giving him knowing look.

Over the years, they've become really good at gauging his moods, and especially at noticing when he's taken by bouts of melancholy. He's never told them anything of his former life, and he doesn't intend to, but they know which subjects to avoid.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just...I hate being injured.”

“We know,” Liz says, putting her hand on his arm. “But you still need to rest up, okay?”

“I know,” Alex sighs. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone march up to them. “And I guess it's time for me to report,” he adds, standing up to welcome Commander Valenti. “Commander.”

The woman looks him up and down with severe eyes.

“Captain. Who did you piss off this time?”

Six days later, Alex is in the foulest mood. He's been dreading this anniversary for months, and it's proving as bad as he thought it would be. Everything is going wrong. His arm still isn't healed enough to use, now resting in a sling, so he's been on desk duty for the last few days, and he's remembering exactly why he hates it. And then, whether the effect of his injury or simply the time of the year, the nightmares started. The anniversary of the day he lost his fiance and the day he lost his leg are just two days apart, and it's always a bad time for him, filled with alcohol and fevered dreams.

His team is set to spend the day at the palace again, and this time the King specifically asked for his favorite Musketeer despite his injury. Alex doesn't understand why, but as he's not bed-bound, he has no choice but to obey. He hoped to be able to take the day off and drink the pain away, but the universe is against him. To top it off, both his shoulder and his leg are killing him, and he's forced to ask an aid to hold his horse's reins on the way to the palace, because he barely has enough balance to keep himself on the saddle.

“Come on,” Liz tries to motivate him, as he mopes on his horse. “It's going to be okay. There's to be some kind of celebration planned, for some noble guy who just came to court.”

“That's usually not good news,” Alex remarks. “Means we'll have to be twice as vigilant.”

“Leave that to us,” Maria says, bringing her horse to his other side. “Just because the King requested you doesn't mean you should overtax yourself.”

“My father will be there,” Alex sighs.

“And you can't help showing off your Musketeers in front of him, in hope that he'll acknowledge your accomplishments someday. Alex, you don't need him. Everyone knows you're better than him.”

“He's still the Prime Minister, and he has the King's ear. He could have me executed if the fancy took him to see me gone.”

“The King loves you far too much for that,” Liz says. “That's why your father is reduced to sending his Reg Guards to fight his battles and try to off you in a skirmish.”

Alex sighs and readjusts his sling. “We're here,” he says.

As usual, the day at the palace involves a lot of waiting around and standing guard, far more than Alex's leg should really be put through today. But sitting in front of the Royal Family is simply unthinkable. He watches Prince Max and Princess Isobel, lounging in comfortable armchairs under a canopy, with envy and a twinge of resentment.

“Who's this?” Liz asks him, midway through the day. She discreetly points to a man on the other side of the canopy. He's wearing red like the Red Guards, but his uniform is richer and perfectly clean, and his stance isn't that of a guard. He has a hood over his head, hiding his hair and his face. Alex frowns. Someone who can get away with hiding his identity in the middle of a royal event must be high-ranking, probably from the Royal Family, but he can't think of who that could be.

“Watch him closely,” he tells Liz. There's also the option that he's an imposter.

He's not. Minutes after Liz notices him, the man approaches the canopy at a sign from the King. The king stands up, and everyone immediately stops talking.

“I would like to introduce to the court my natural son, Michael,” the King says, one hand on the man's shoulder. Alex feels his breathing pick up, like his body has already figured out what his brain refuses to understand.

The mysterious man reaches up and removes his hood.

“Thank you, my King,” he says, kneeling quickly. “I have lived my whole life in the shadows, and I will go back to a modest life as soon as my purpose is complete. I have come to court for one reason only: to challenge Captain Alex Manes of the Musketeers to a formal duel.”

Alex gapes. Liz and Maria rally around him, confused. “What?” Liz frowns.

Michael stands back up, and turns to look straight at Alex. It feels like a punch to his gut.

“But why? Alex, do you know him?” Liz presses in a murmur. The court is getting agitated, the announcement raising eyebrows. A King introducing a natural-born son to give out a title and a land is not uncommon, but for that son to challenge the Captain of the Musketeers? That's unheard of.

“Yes,” Alex mutters, still in shock.

“Who is he?” Liz asks.

“Michael was my fiance,” Alex says. “My dead fiance.”

“What?”

“He can't be alive,” Alex breathes. “It's not possible. He was hanged because of me.”

Liz looks about to shake him, but she's interrupted by Michael raising his hands. “Do you accept?” he shouts across the space between them.

“But he's injured!” Maria shouts back.

“No,” Alex says, squaring his shoulders and taking a step forward. “Reparations are deserved. I will duel you. Choose your field of honor.”

He meets Michael's eyes for a moment, and the emotions are almost too much to keep inside. Alex feels like he's going to burst. Michael is alive. The man he's missed so much that he would have ended his life, had the Musketeers not given him a purpose again.

Michael takes a step back and looks toward the King, who nods.

“You will duel here,” he says. “The two of you are likely the best swordsmen in my kingdom. This should be entertaining. Please refrain from killing each other, though. Although my court may well be bloodthirsty enough to enjoy the show, I have uses for both of you.”

Michael bows deeply, and Alex scrambles to do the same. His leg gives out of under him, and Liz has to hold him up as he straightens again.

“Elizabeth and Maria will serve as my seconds,” he says when he's balanced again, waving at his friends. “Who are yours?”

“Oh, I was hoping for sweet Maria,” Michael tilts his head. “Are you as good with the sword as you are in bed?”

Alex looks at Maria in shock.

“I didn't know who he was,” she whispers hurriedly. “It was just a drunken hookup.”

“I know Michael,” Alex murmurs back. “He's a charmer alright, but he didn't approach you by chance. He was fishing for information.”

Maria frowns in anger. “I'll stay with my friends, thank you,” she shouts across the field.

“Then, will my King allow his daughter to second me?” Michael asks, bowing respectfully. “Obviously the heir cannot risk a hair on his head,” he adds with a smirk to Max.

“Did you have to make me second choice?” Isobel whines.

“You can never be a second choice, dear sister,” Michael assures.

It's only then, that the King's proclamation from earlier makes it to Alex's brain. Michael is the King's son. How is it possible? A man who came to him poor and alone, with no family and no name, is the King's bastard? A man, as he discovered, convicted and branded for thievery?

Did Michael know his heritage, back when they were together? Did he hide that from Alex, too?

For the first time today, Alex looks over to the chair to Max's right, a little to the back, where his father sits. Jesse Manes gives him back an enigmatic look. Alex has no way to know if he knew about this, if he knew that Michael was alive and who he was this whole time. He closes his eyes in dismay.

“I will allow it,” the King says. “Now prepare yourself.”

“Alex,” Liz shakes his good shoulder. “Are you sure you can do this? You don't look good.”

“I'll be fine,” Alex says. He doesn't know if that's true. He's the one who taught Michael to fence, and even back then, he was amazingly good at it. God only knows how much he's improved in the last ten years. And he's able-bodied and uninjured, while Alex can barely stay on his feet.

He's read to be beaten, though. It's only what he deserves.

He removes his sling, keeping his left arm close to his body. It's useless, but he needs to be able to move for balance. He gives Maria his hat and his blue uniform cape, and draws his sword. He'll give Michael a run for his money, if nothing else. Michael has always enjoyed the challenge.

Trying not to limp too much, Alex approaches Michael, in the middle of the field everyone else has vacated. They have an audience, a good portion of the court. Duels are a highly-valued form of entertainment to the noble class.

When he's close enough to Michael, he turns toward the King to bow deeply, then gives Michael a smaller bow, without taking his eyes off him. Michael returns it with a smirk.

“You look good in blue and leathers,” he says, low enough that only the two of them can hear.

“How are you alive, Michael?” Alex asks in the same tone.

“Not thanks to you,” Michael shrugs. “I've come for revenge. You had me hanged!”

Alex averts his eyes.

His father gave the order, when Michael was exposed as a thief and a fraud, and Alex wasn't strong enough to stop it.

That's why he joined the King's Musketeers. To become strong enough.

“Fight!” the King shouts.

Alex raises his sword.

I’ll be posting part 2 in the next few days, and then the new stuff Thursday or whenever I manage to finish it.

#roswell new mexico #alteraroswell2020 #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #whumptober2019 #alex whump #violence tw #blood tw #wound tw #mine #echo's fanfiction #musketeers au

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tsukikoayanosuke · 4 years ago

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A Reunion Between the Waves

Summary:

Azul is indentured to a horrible captain on a routine ocean trip with his master's goods. He doesn't know what to expect when the ship is attacked by the notorious and mysterious ship, the Night Raven, but it's certainly not this.

(’Twisted-Wonderland: Our Precious Treasure’ 5000 hits celebration!)

(Fantasy/Pirate/Steampunk AU)

(A suggestion from @sanata101 )

Azul did not know what to expect when his master's ship was attacked by the most feared pirate ship in these seven oceans, but he was sure he did not expect to be HUGGED by the captain.

Azul's head suddenly felt dizzy, uncertain of how to react. This dizziness was partly from getting cuffed upside the head by his master just a moment ago, but the rest of the shock he was sure came from a sudden hug from Captain Argentum, the captain of the Night Raven. How many navy ships had this guy taken out? Maybe Azul needed more than two hands to count them. He was the only known captain who dared to sail the ocean in the dead of the night, the only captain who managed to attack his opponent amid complete darkness and steal the treasure without leaving a trace.

And now, he was in the arms of the captain who was almost younger than him. He had lost his hat during the sword fight with Azul’s master and revealing his reddish-brown hair, tied in a loose ponytail. There was a scar under his black eye-patch, rather than make him look dangerous, it almost made him look somehow…softer. Vulnerable. The effect was also helped along by the fact that he was crying a little, a tear rolling out of his other eye.

“Azul, it’s you, right, Big Brother Azul? Please tell me it’s you.”

Azul's mouth opened, but no sound came out, opening and closing like a fish. How did the most famous pirate in the ocean know his name? How could he possibly know Azul Ashengrotto- an orphan who worked because he was forced to employ a minor master?

Captain Argentum seemed to be able to get his bearings back, but his hands were still on the shoulders of Azul. His head dipped slightly for a moment, catching his breath. Then, his eyes met Azul's, and for the first time since the captain had landed on his ship, sword flashing and coat tails swirling around his legs, Azul could see his eye - black as the night sky above them.

And he felt like he had seen that eye before.

His mouth opened again, then closed. Finally, he whispered in a hoarse voice. "How… Do you know… My name?"

Captain Argentum's breath hitched, and Azul could see the light slowly disappearing from his eye - as if he was losing hope.

"I- Sorry," the captain murmured, his hand falling from Azul's shoulder. "I'm sorry, this might be... Too much for you. I... I’ve been looking everywhere for you and..."

He turned his eyes away, pressing a gloved mouth to his hand for a moment. Azul found himself stepping forward automatically, hand reaching for the pirate’s shoulder. It felt natural - like something… He had done this before…

"I ... I'm sorry," he said, not too sure for what reason.

The captain’s head jerked up. He turned to Azul in a rush, almost stumbling over his own words.

“Oh, no, no, no, Big Brother Azul, please don’t - it’s not your fault you don’t remember; it has been ten years, after all, no wonder you don’t remember me. I’m sorry to frighten you I just-saw you and I got overwhelmed and-”

Is this really the captain that many people fear? The same captain whose face was drawn on the wanted poster? His face was so open, Azul thought. So…vulnerable, so genuine.

Azul took the captain's hand, making him stop talking. He squeezed the hand, felt the warmth through the gloves. This felt very familiar. This ... felt right. He raised his face so that he met Captain Argentum's eyes again and there, he saw a glimmer of starlight.

"How do you think Captain Flint did it, Azul? How'd he swoop in out of nowhere and vanished without a trace?"

"I have no idea."

"You think somebody will ever find Treasure Island?"

"Maybe one day... You can."

"Me?"

"Yeah. You'll finally be the captain like you always dream off."

"Yeah... Yeah! Captain Jonah Argentum and his first mate, Azul Ashengrotto! Sailing across the seven seas in search of the legendary Treasure Island! An adventure of a lifetime!"

“Jonah…?” he murmured.

He felt the young man’s hand tighten against his, and his eyes half shut with a soft shudder at the sound of his name on Azul’s lips. Could this be the little Jonah from back then? The little Jonah who cried for his name when their old island was invaded by pirates and he was captured?

Feet stampeded over the deck, shattering the moment. Azul's heart jumped to the base of his throat as he wheeled around, his hands were still holding Jonah's.

His master, a female captain named Athena, appeared at the higher deck. Her hand still clutched at her side, where the barest bit of blood seeped between her fingers and into her fine dress clothes - Jonah had cut her there during the fight, that’s why he had run in the first place. Jonah had looked about to go after her before he had been distracted by the sight of Azul on the ground, and now the small captain swore under his breath, raising his sword with the hand that wasn’t still holding Azul’s.

Azul’s throat clenched up at the way his master looked – wild-eyed, pale-faced, her normally red hair half out of her braids. His head throbbed where the woman had struck him only minutes before the fight had started - he couldn’t even remember why she had hit him. Not that Athena ever needed a reason. Behind his lord, three soldiers armed with muskets jogged up, two of them dropping immediately to their knees to aim their weapons at Jonah.

Jonah shifted, pushing Azul behind him despite him being shorter than Azul, hands still clasped between Azul's.

"Back off now," said Jonah. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

Athena's eyes flashed, but she smiled, removing a few strands of hair from before her eyes with her hand still holding her sword.

"There are five guns aimed at you, Star Thief," Athena said, speaking Jonah’s ocean nickname with the same venom one might use to swear. "And that's not included in front of you."

Her eyes suddenly landed on Azul and he felt himself shrink. He gulped. Why is this woman so scary?

"Boy, come here," Athena snapped. "Now."

Azul flinched, chest tightening. He saw Jonah’s eye flicker back to him.

"Who is she?" he asked.

Azul gulped. "I work for her," he muttered. At that moment, Jonah's black eye narrowed and a spark of anger appeared on his face. He turned to Athena, his hand squeezing even more tightly into Azul.

"Uh... No," he said. "Looks like he'll just stay with me."

Athena laughed. "You think he’s worth it as a hostage? I can buy ten slaves for half his price. "

Azul could already smell the anger coming out of Jonah. "Well, it looks like you have to shoot us," he said calmly. "Because we are not going anywhere."

"So naïve, Captain Argentum," Athena laughed. "I knew you were young but I assumed being as successful as you are, you’d know better! You’re worth far much more to me alive, and I’ll be taking you all the way to the courts with me. I will greatly enjoy watching you hang."

Jonah only blinks. Azul's gaze went back and forth from Jonah to Athena - Jonah could not go with him. Athena would rip him apart - before they even arrive at the harbor.

"Jonah, go," he whispered in Jonah's ear. "Go, now - If you run to the lower level, the door is unlocked, you can escape through one of the windows-"

Where would you want him to run off to? Azul stopped. Come to think of it, where was Jonah's ship? How could he suddenly appear on his ship? Azul couldn’t see anything in the dark but he was pretty sure there weren’t any ships pulled up near them.

"Go," he whispered again. "I will protect you."

"Not without you," replied Jonah, holding his hand tighter.

"It’s fine, I can handle it - she talks big but she won’t actually hurt me, I promise."

"No!" Jonah hissed back. "You've been protecting me since we were kids. Now, it's my turn. I won't let you stay here and be treated like a dog! ”

"I'm the older one here. The one who should be protecting is me!" Azul replied. "If you die, I don't have anyone I could protect!" He could feel Jonah's hand tightened. "I will complete my contract with him and I will look for you-"

"Boy!" snapped Athena. "Come here, or for the sake of everything in the sky, I will gun you down! Someone go arrest this child already!"

One soldier dropped down to the lower deck and advanced on Jonah. Jonah backed away, still keeping Azul behind him.

"Azul!" Athena shouted, her patience was up. "For the love of- Captain Argentum, if you don't lower your sword now, I'll just shoot that boy if you like him very much."

Jonah actually growled.

“You’ll be dead where you stand before you could even touch him,” he snapped.

"Jonah, stop!" Azul shouted. "You can't die!"

He just can’t let his precious childhood friend die. And that was why Azul knew in his bones he couldn’t let him get hurt, couldn’t let Jonah die in front of him - he had to do whatever it took to keep Jonah alive. He couldn’t - Couldn’t watch him –

"That boy is mine, Star Thief! If I want to shoot it, then I will do it!"

“Jonah, technically - technically I do belong to her, so please, just go before you-”

And then, from overhead, there was a sudden roar.

Azul gasped as the very air seemed to vibrate through his skull, rattling his brain and his bones. Light exploded around them from something far above. There were several screams - a ratatat that was like musket fire but somehow stronger and more powerful, a thwump thwump thwump of something thick smacking the deck.

When Azul’s eyes cleared, he was standing in a spotlight, a whoosh of air like a wind current spinning around him and humming overhead. He tried to look up - something big and black, right over the ship, blotting out the stars. What had happened to Athena?

When he looked back down, he saw that the soldiers with the muskets were down, unconscious on the deck. Athena was standing alone, her eyes so wide that they were mostly whites. Her arms hung uselessly at her sides, sword on the ground.

Azul's eyes widened when he looked at the sky.

An airship. A ship that can fly. That thing is real?!

A rope was thrown down and Jonah caught it. He raised his face and continued, "Thank you, Ace!" Azul could vaguely see someone saluted, it seemed like a member of Jonah’s shipmates. The captain himself tied the rope to his waist and stepped on the anchor like a swing that had been lowered. Suddenly, Azul felt his waist being hugged and he was pulled closer to the captain, making his cheeks heat up.

"Yours, huh?" said Jonah to the still gaping Athena. "We’re pirate remember? Stealing other people's belongings is my job!"

He smiled at Azul. "Hold on tight."

Azul quickly hugged Jonah, feeling slightly awkward because he was taller than the captain, and then they were being pulled up along with the anchor.

After all that had happened - relief at being taken from Athena's grasp, amazed at the presence of an airship, and all the mixed emotions from the first time his silver-blue eyes met Jonah's black eye. But for one thing, he knew he was happy with him.

He felt Jonah give a kiss on his cheek. He whispered. "Let’s sail for an adventure of a lifetime."

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland fic #twst fanfic #twst fic #azul ashengrotto #jonah argentum (my oc)#5000 hits celebration #cross-posted on ao3 #Azul/Jonah what should I call this pairing?#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #is azul too ooc here?#tw:opt gaiden #jonazul #serving raspberry

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mystical-flute · 4 years ago

Text

Black Coffee & Pumpkin Pie Chapter 8

AO3 || FFN || Ko-fi

The Golden Trio. The Three Musketeers. There were many nicknames people had for Emma, Lily, and Alex. They had been born one month apart from the other, and had been raised together since diaper hood. They’d gone through everything together - learning how to ride bikes, first crushes, first broken hearts, driver’s ed, and now, they were all going to the same college.

But this time, Emma had kept something to herself. She had yet to tell either of them that she’d been on that date with Neal, because she knew Lily would get that smug, ‘I told you so’ look on her face. Plus, that date had felt different from the dates she’d been on in their little town, and she really wanted to make sure she’d settled in her feelings before blabbing to her friends about it.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how Neal’s smile lit up the room, how the light hit his eyes, how that kiss made her feel like her heart was going to explode from happiness.

And they were planning a second date! Emma felt her head beginning to spin, overwhelmed. She’d spent an hour talking to her mom after she’d gotten home and showered, and thankfully her mom had been open to listening about how she felt and was encouraging her to see where the relationship went.

She wouldn’t be nervous about the whole “meet the parents” thing if it wasn’t for Eudora. She’d grown up knowing Mr. Gold all her life (he wasn’t nearly as intimidating as he seemed), but Eudora was a stranger to her, and despite Neal’s high praise of her, it still had her worried.

Emma was so deep in thought, she didn’t realize her friends were approaching until Lily’s lunch tray dropped down in front of her face, and Emma felt like she jumped a mile.

“Lily! Alex!”

“Geez Emma, any deeper in thought and you were going to land straight in your onion rings!” Alex remarked, setting her tray much more gently onto the table than Lily had. “What’s on your mind?”

“Wait, don’t tell us, it’s Neal, isn’t it?” Lily cut in, a Cheshire Cat-like grin already on her face. “He asked you out, didn’t he?”

Emma rolled her eyes and groaned. “Fine, yeah, it’s Neal. We went out on Friday.”

“It’s Monday and you’re only just telling us this?!” Alex yelped. “Emma! We’re your best friends!”

“Honestly, we were supposed to have a big montage of buying you an outfit for the date!” Lily agreed. “But how’d it go?”

Emma smiled, coy. “I don’t kiss and tell, girls.”

Alex looked like she was about ready to explode from happiness as she bounced in her chair, while Lily, as expected, looked smug.

“So he’s a good kisser, huh?” Lily asked.

“Lily!”

“That’s a yes then,” Alex smirked.

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” Emma grumbled, biting an onion ring before taking a sip of her soda. “But what about either of you? Meet anyone interesting now that we’re nearing the end of our first college semester?”

“Nah. No one’s all that interesting. I mean, they’re fine to talk to… well except the guy that sits next to me in my music theory class falls asleep every day… and drools.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “Ew. What about you, Lily?”

“Same. I mean, girls are cute which is always good but you know I’ve never been a big fan of dating,” she said with a shrug.

“I still think you should’ve asked out Maggie from your biology lab,” Alex pouted. “You would’ve been so cute together.”

“I’m not the dating type,” Lily countered. “But I have been very well acquainted with Maggie as of late.”

Emma gave Lily a triumphant smirk. “So I’m not the only one keeping secrets then, huh?”

“Um, I already told you all my secrets Emma. You’re the one still being coy about your date with Neal.”

She frowned. “What is there to tell? He let mom take a proper picture for her scrapbook, he took me to Tony’s for dinner and then we took a walk on the beach until it started raining. And then we planned for another date.”

Lily wagged her eyebrows. “Oooh, date number two, huh? When’s that going to be?”

“I don’t know. His mom and sister are coming in for Thanksgiving, so he’s got to figure all that out before we decide,” she said with a small shrug, tossing a napkin on her empty plate. “You know how busy it gets around here during Thanksgiving so I don’t expect it to be before then.”

“Then that gives us time to plan your outfit!” Alex chirped.

Emma groaned and rolled her eyes. “Honestly, this isn’t the first date I’ve ever been on. Why are you two so obsessed with this?”

“Because it’s fun to watch you squirm,” Lily shrugged.

“You two are the worst,” Emma grumbled as her phone buzzed. “Oops, time for me to head to my math final! Guess we’ll have to talk later! Byeeee!”

Emma was out of the cafeteria before Lily or Alex realized what happened, her cheeks still bright pink.

----

Thanksgiving in Storybrooke was a chaotic time for the small town. The scent of baked goods became even stronger in the air as the bakers frantically produced pies, cookies, breads and cakes for those who didn’t want to bake them themselves.

The town’s decorating committee, headed by Mary-Margaret Nolan, was hard at work transforming the town into something out of a magazine, with banners and an array of decorations on each and every building and light pole in the town.

Belle had mapped out the route for the parade, X’s carefully marking the sidewalks and roads before the sheriff's deputies put the barriers up to block traffic.

The Nolan family was hard at work during their free moments from school or work, harvesting fresh fruits and vegetables for their friends and loved ones.

Neal was used to a hustle and bustle in town, but Storybrooke was something else. The beauty of the fall colors he’d only seen on TV or in movies along with the decorations made it feel like something out of a cheesy Lifetime movie, and Neal didn’t mind. It would be fun to show it off to Mama, Tiana, Mr. La Bouff and Charlotte.

Bangor Airport was only a couple of hours from Storybrooke, but waiting for the plane to come in was agonizing. Neal found himself caught between frantically checking his phone and pacing between the arrival list and the nearby cafe.

“NEAL!!”

Charlotte La Bouff’s voice cut through the crowded airport like a knife, her blonde hair bouncing with each step she took.

He should have figured she’d be leading the charge.

“Hey Lottie - oof!” he grunted as she swept him up in an almost bone-crushing hug. “It’s good to see you again.”

She giggled, pulling away and allowing him to go into the familiar arms of his mother and sister and give Big Daddy a firm handshake.

“Welcome to Maine,” he greeted.

“Oh honey let me look at you,” Eudora said, putting her hands on Neal’s shoulders and looking him up and down. “You’ve been eatin’ right? Getting enough sleep?”

Neal chuckled and hugged her again. “Yes Mama, I promise. Papa and Belle have been making sure of that.”

“How far is it to Storybrooke?” Tiana asked.

“About two hours, so if anyone has to pee I’d do it now. I’d also brace yourself for the temperature difference once we get outside.”

“Oh don’t worry about that, Neal. It was in the 50s in DC when we got our connecting flight.”

Neal scratched the back of his neck, thinking of the flurries he’d driven through to get to the airport. “Right. Yeah, the 50s.”

“You weren’t kiddin’ about the weather,” Eli said, shivering as they loaded Neal’s Jeep with the luggage and retreated into the warmth of the car.

Neal laughed. “Yeah, it’s taking a bit to adjust to. And they’re calling for snow tomorrow too. Not much, but enough to coat the ground.”

“Oh how fun!” Charlotte said, her knees bouncing. “I’ve never seen snow before!”

“Hopefully you’ll enjoy it then,” Neal chuckled, pulling out of the airport and beginning the scenic drive back to Storybrooke.

It took longer than the normal two hours to get back, with Charlotte and Tiana wanting to stop here or there to take pictures of the colors that lit up the trees, but they made it just as the sun went down, casting a dusky glow over Storybrooke as he pulled into the parking lot of Granny’s.

“You want typical diner food, this is the best place to come,” Neal said. “And… Emma’s working tonight.”

“Ooh! So we’ll get to meet your girlfriend?” Tiana teased.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Neal replied, praying none of them noticed his flushed face as he sent a quick text to his father to tell them they’d made it to town safely.

“Not yet,” Charlotte’s sing-songy voice hummed as she pushed the door open, and Neal suddenly remembered just how it was to be surrounded by two sisters prodding into his business.

“Anywhere you like!” he heard Emma call.

They carefully put a couple of tables together, saving three for his father, Belle and Gideon, before Emma appeared.

“Neal, hi! This must be the New Orleans crowd you told me about,” she said, glancing at the others. “My name’s Emma and I’ll be your server today.”

“So you’re the famous Emma we’ve heard so much about. It’s so nice to meet you, honey,” Eudora said with a wide smile.

Emma grinned. “It’s nice to meet you too, Eudora. Neal’s told me so much about you guys.”

“Papa, Belle and Gideon are on their way too Emma,” Neal said. “Do you mind grabbing drinks for them too?”

“Iced tea, Coke and regular tea. I got it, Neal,” Emma chuckled. “I’ll give you guys some time to look over the menu.”

“Oh, she’s good,” Tiana said, her eyes wide as Emma retreated back to the kitchen. “You sure she isn’t interested in the restaurant business, Neal?”

Neal snorted. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure Tiana. She's studying criminal justice and wants to become a detective like her dad. Mama, who did you get to keep an eye on the restaurant while you guys are up here?”

“Ray and Evangeline. Figured another wife-husband duo would be good for the restaurant, and besides, they know how to whip the employees into shape,” she said with a small laugh. “But we decided to only do takeout orders the day before Thanksgiving. I’m hoping that will make things easier for the staff.”

“It’d sure make things easier on me,” Emma grumbled as she reappeared with the tray of drinks. “But Granny’s stubbornly set in her ways.”

“Granny?” Tiana asked.

Emma nodded toward the cash register, where Granny was overseeing a transaction from her wheelchair. “94 years old and still stubborn as the day is long. She’s an old family friend of my mom’s though, so I try not to complain too much around her. Oh! Hi Mr. and Mrs. Gold, Gideon! Do you guys need menus?”

“We know what we want, thank you Miss Nolan,” his father said, taking a seat next to Eudora as Emma set the tea in front of him. “We’ll take our usual orders.”

Emma nodded, departing again when Neal and the others gave their orders.

“How were your flights? Not too much trouble, I hope?” Aiden asked, sipping at his tea.

“Oh, not at all, the only big trouble was trying to navigate Reagan National. We got a little turned around and almost missed boarding,” Eli explained. “But otherwise it was smooth sailing, as they say.”

“Mrs. Gold?” Tiana asked. “What were you plannin’ on cooking for Thanksgiving? Because, I was wondering if I could make sweet potato pie.”

“Oh, we usually do the typical Thanksgiving feast. Turkey, stuffing, potatoes, salads. We would never turn you down if you wanted to make something,” Belle replied. “My father will be bringing mashed potatoes and Aiden’s mothers will be bringing vegetables.”

Tiana grinned. “Awesome! My daddy’s sweet potato pie is the best in New Orleans.”

“We can head to the Nolan’s farm tomorrow and see if they have sweet potatoes. I know Emma mentioned they have a lot of produce they still need to get rid of,” Neal said.

“We’ve gotten most of our produce from the Nolans since David took it over,” Aiden said with a soft smile. “David has really brought the farm back from the brink of bankruptcy. It’s like he has a magical touch for farming.”

“Ooh well, I can’t wait to see what sort of produce they have,” TIana said. “I love goin’ to the Farmer’s Market in New Orleans, so it’ll be a real treat to see a farm up close!”

Charlotte’s eyes turned dreamy. “Don’t you remember going to that farm in first grade? The horses were so pretty!”

“Lottie, you dared me to kiss a frog and it jumped on my head and wouldn’t let me go until the farmer managed to get it off. I’ve blocked out most of that field trip,” Tiana replied with a roll of her eyes. “Poppy called me the Frog Princess for a month!”

“You never did read that fairy tale again…” Eudora mused as the table broke out into soft laughter.

As the evening wound down and the group returned to the Gold house, Neal watched as the group splintered off into conversation.

His father, usually quiet and unassuming, sat with Eudora, looking at every photo she presented him - she had made copies of every single photo she had of or with Neal.

Belle, ever charming and worldly, was having an animated conversation with Charlotte and Eli about travel.

Gideon was with Neal and Tiana. Gideon, like their father, was at first quiet and unsure of the guests, but slowly began to come out of his shell, talking with Tiana about why food made the certain reactions it did when it was cooking.

The Gold household was full of laughter and light that night, each person going to bed with a smile on their face, and a small stomach cramp from laughing too hard.

The next day, Neal drove through the light dusting of snow up to Nolan farm with Tiana and Charlotte.

“Oh Neal, this town is just too cute! It’s like somethin’ out of a story! Oh! I know! I should do the top ten cutest small towns for my next blog!” Charlotte squealed.

“Lottie, you haven’t been to any other small towns,” Tiana laughed. “How are you gonna do that?”

Lottie bounced in her seat like a dog on its way to the park. “Then I’ll do the top ten cutest places in Storybrooke!”

“I’m sure Mayor Mills-Hood will be honored to put Storybrooke on the map,” Neal laughed as he pulled up to the farm. “Here we are.”

“Oh, hello Neal!” Mary-Margaret called, carrying a large basket of produce. “You must be here to pick up your dad’s order.”

Neal nodded. “Hi Mrs. Nolan, yeah, that’s right… but my sister was wondering if she could take a look around and see if there’s anything else she wants?”

“Of course. Were you looking for anything specific, Tiana?”

“Sweet potatoes. Mrs. Gold mentioned you have them.”

Mary-Margaret smiled. “We do. Let me take you to the greenhouse and show you.” She set the basket down on the table before leading the trio over to a large greenhouse. “David and Eva built this together to protect some of our plants. There are a lot that we tried to plant for years, but the climate here can be… unpredictable. But now we can with the greenhouse.”

“Mrs. Nolan, do you mind if I take pictures?” Charlotte asked. “Your farm is just so pretty!”

She hummed. “I suppose that’d be okay. Just don’t disturb any of the animals, alright?”

“I won’t, thank you!” Charlotte bounced on her toes before running off.

Mary-Margaret laughed softly, handing Tiana a couple of bags. “She’s sweet.”

“She’s a lot to handle sometimes, but she’s like my sister,” Tiana laughed. “Thank you so much for this Mrs. Nolan.”

“It’s no problem,” Mary-Margaret replied. “Oh, and Emma should be back soon if you wanted to say hi, Neal. She went to get breakfast with Lily and Alex.”

“Oh - okay.” He hoped the flush of his cheeks went unnoticed, or at least, was blamed on the sudden humidity of the greenhouse.

Tiana gave him a smug grin from behind a sweet potato plant and continued harvesting the sweet potatoes.

“Do you and your family have a big Thanksgiving, Mrs. Nolan?”

Mary-Margaret nodded. “Oh yes. It alternates between mine and my step-mother’s home, but we do love to do Thanksgiving in our family. And this year is even more special since Margot is home this year with her girlfriend.”

Neal gave her a weak smile. One day, he’d be comfortable announcing that bit to the town too. But for now it was safer to keep their relationship hidden. “I’m sure it was even more insane when Emma and all of them were kids, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Mary-Margaret laughed, shaking her head in amusement. “I can’t even tell you how many accidents we nearly had with the kids running through the kitchen when one of us was carrying a heavy pot.”

“Okay, I think I’ve got what I need!” Tiana announced, the bags full right to the top of sweet potatoes, green beans, peppers and berries. “If nothing else, some of these’ll make a great snack before we head back to New Orleans!”

“Here, Mrs. Nolan, I have the money for Papa’s order too,” Neal said, handing over the money his father had given him before they’d left.

“Thank you, I’ll be back with your things,” Mrs. Nolan said as the trio left the greenhouse and headed back in the direction of the farmhouse and driveway. “Oh - there are the girls now.”

Neal grinned, waving to Emma, Charlotte in an animated conversation with Lily.

“Lottie, come on! We need to head back to help Mrs. Gold!” Tiana called, adjusting the produce in the back seat as Neal got in the driver’s side.

He noticed the blush on Charlotte’s cheeks the moment he pulled onto the road back to his father’s.

“So how was the farm?” he asked casually.

“Oh… you know, it was nice. The sheep and the dog and the snow everywhere…” Charlotte replied, sounding wistful.

Tiana gave him another smug look as she glanced in the back. “And Emma’s friend? C’mon Charlotte, your cheeks are as pink as your gloves!”

“Okay, fine. Lily was not bad to look at either,” she admitted, looking down. “We gave each other our phone numbers.”

“That’s awesome, Lottie! I’m really happy for you.”

Neal grinned. “Lily’s a cool girl. Glad to see someone caught her eye.”

“Yeah… we’ll see where it goes. Oh Tia… this town really is magical,” Charlotte sighed. “Maybe we’ll find someone for you too!”

“Oh Lottie no, that’s - ”

“I mean it!” Charlotte declared, back to her normal self. “I found a princess, and I’m gonna find you a prince!”

The morning of Thanksgiving was nothing short of chaotic. Belle had everyone up bright and early, getting as much prepped for their meal as they could, before everyone hurried to the heart of the town for the parade.

It was a quaint thing, with the high school’s marching band leading the way as floats created by the other high school clubs were pulled down the road by whatever trucks they could find. Gideon was on one such float, for his science club - it was a giant vinegar and baking soda volcano that spewed out fall-colored liquids. Neal wasn’t sure how they’d managed to pull that off, but he was sure Gideon would be happy to answer.

What got the most buzz in the town though, was the float carefully built to the specifications of the decorating committee - the float pulling Marco in his Santa costume, nine reindeer suspended in the air greeting the cheers of children, while an unhappy-looking August waved to the crowd.

Charlotte was buzzing around taking photos of everything for her blog, happily chatting to anyone that caught her attention.

“You know, it’s almost like she’s at home here,” Eli mused. “I didn’t think I’d ever see her so happy outside of the big city like this.”

“That’s the charm of Storybrooke,” Aiden replied with a chuckle as Regina began her welcome speech from the small stage that had been set up. “It’s like a fairy tale.”

That evening, Neal settled between Tiana and Gideon as the group sat down at the large dining room table for dinner. His grandmothers, Anna and Isobel, sat across from him, serene smiles on their faces while his step-grandfather, Moe, looked a little tense, but relaxed when Eudora or Eli spoke to him.

He hadn’t known his grandparents growing up - all of them had died before his birth. Milah never spoke about them, but Killian would talk to him about his mother, Alice, saying nothing but praises about her.

“My only wish is that you and your cousin could have met her,” he’d said on more than one occasion. “She would have loved both of you.”

“I’d like to propose a toast,” his father said, rising to his feet and holding his wine glass with his free hand. “This past year has been extraordinary, and we are fortunate to be able to celebrate this Thanksgiving with more of us than ever before. Though the circumstances were less than favorable, I believe things happen for a reason, and fate brought us together for a reason. We have our Baelfire back, and new family members to welcome to our heart. This year, I am grateful for that. To our family.”

“To family,” the rest of the table echoed, clinking their glasses together.

#black coffee and pumpkin pie #ouat #once upon a time #swanfire #emma swan #neal cassidy

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