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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fic

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Chapter 58: Jon Prime

Eleven months. Eleven months since Jon had come back in time, since he’d knocked on Tim’s door, since he’d had Martin in his arms again. Eleven months of regrouping, of planning, of worrying and fearing and hoping in equal measures. Eleven months, almost to the day, to the minute. All of it leading to this.

It was worth it for the look on Elias’s face when he spun around to face him.

In the entire time Jon had worked for the Institute, and especially since taking the Archivist position, he had never once seen Elias anything but calmly, coolly, smugly in control. Occasionally angry, although he’d more heard that than seen it when he listened to the tapes much later, but still, whatever emotions he might have been feeling, his bearing had always suggested that he held the upper hand and knew it. Now, though, there was none of that in his expression. For the first time Jon had ever seen, Elias Bouchard looked as though the situation had got away from him somewhat. His eyes—Jonah’s eyes—were wide with alarm, his jaw was slack, and even if he didn’t look afraid—yet—he was definitely at the very least taken aback. It was a start.

“Jon? What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You should be—” He stopped and inhaled sharply as he scanned Jon’s face, probably noticing the worm scars if not how much more grey was in his hair than his counterpart’s. “You’re not Jon.”

“Oh, but I am,” Jon replied. He was keeping his powers in check, but barely; he could feel the static building in his veins, thrumming and crackling like electricity through a power grid, and while he wanted to unleash it on the man before him, he couldn’t just yet. It was too much of a risk with Martin so close. “Just not the Jon you think I am.”

“What—no.” Jonah—there was no doubt it was Jonah Magnus regarding him now—turned pale. “You’re not—no. How can this be? Tell me!”

Jon tsked. “That was never your gift, Jonah. Compelling people. The Eye gave you the ability to pry, to pluck secrets out of heads and put secrets in…but you don’t get to ask for them, do you? You are no Archivist.”

There was definitely a part of him that was enjoying this more than he should. It wasn’t the power over Jonah he thrilled to—he’d never been the megalomaniac sort—but he definitely relished not being the one at a disadvantage for once. He’d spent years as little more than a pawn in Jonah’s game, and it was refreshing to be, if not a queen, at the very least a knight. It was satisfying more than anything.

But satisfaction wasn’t the goal. Victory was.

Jonah pulled himself together and drew himself up. Jon had to give him some credit—it obviously cost him a good deal of effort, both mental and physical. Martin had thrown him for a loop, probably several times, and then Jon had appeared from behind and totally disorientated him. Beyond that, Jon had seen, when he crept up behind him, the large dark stain surrounding the tear on the back of his usually immaculate charcoal suit. Melanie may have only pretended to actually try and kill him, but she’d certainly done a number on him anyway.

“Jon, I do not have time for these games,” he began.

“On the contrary. We have all the time in the world.” Jon took a half-step back and to the side, away from both the soft part in the wall that led, more or less, to the Institute and the tunnel where Sasha and Melanie had secreted themselves.

As he’d hoped, Jonah took the bait, taking a full step towards him and away from Martin. He had two inches on Jon and obviously intended to use them to the utmost effect in an attempt to intimidate and cow Jon. It was the same thing he’d done after the Apocalypse, when he’d stood over Jon and belittled him, making him shrink in on himself and bow under the weight of his own folly and shortcomings, highlighted all the places where it had been Jon’s decisions that led to that point.

Things were different now. Jon knew himself, he knew what his capabilities were as well as his limitations. And just as importantly, he had the evidence of his own eyes when he looked at Past Jon. Yes, Jon had made choices that led to the Apocalypse, but they’d been made with the limited information he had—information that had been limited because of Jonah. When he had all the data, he made much better decisions. Knowing, as they said, was half the battle.

In this case, perhaps, Knowing was all the battle.

Jon spared a quick glance for Martin. His smirk was almost a match for Jon’s own, and his eyes sparkled in a way Jon hadn’t seen in a long time. He stood tall and confident, shoulders squared and chin raised, and he still had a tight grip on the knife Melanie had pressed into his hand. He was also still far too close to Jon and Jonah, and not near enough to where he needed to be.

“Martin, get back. I don’t want you getting hurt,” he told him.

“Really, Jon, I don’t know what you think is going to happen,” Jonah said stiffly. “Whatever the issue is, we can settle it like gentlemen.”

“Ha!” Melanie’s disgusted laugh floated from the side. Jon looked over quickly to see her and Sasha crouched right in the entrance of the tunnel they’d found him in, arms linked tightly. Melanie’s other hand had a death grip on the rough stone of the tunnel’s arch. Jon knew exactly why. He’d heard the near-ethereal music, too, followed it down the tunnel, and realized the stone was ringing faintly with the tune from Denikin’s Calliophone, as though it were one of the pipes of the organ. If Sasha and Melanie hadn’t tumbled into him and told him they were ready for him, there was no telling how far he might have gone. Or how lost he might have been.

Something flickered over Martin’s face, but he did as Jon requested, taking three careful steps backwards until his heels hit the edge of the tower at the center of the Panopticon. He reached out with his free hand and steadied himself against it, then nodded once.

Jon stole another half-pace backwards, luring Jonah a little farther away from the others. “Settle this like gentlemen? You must be joking. What exactly do you think is going to happen? That you’re going to convince me to—to walk away from this? To just let it go?”

“You walked away from the Unknowing,” Jonah said tartly. “You left Tim alone to it with two people who, I am sure, could not possibly care less whether he lives or dies. And despite this—” He ran his eye over Jon’s face disdainfully. “—this getup, we both know that you walked away from Jane Prentiss and left Martin alone to her.”

Oh. That was a low blow. Jon stiffened, his rage nearly choking him. Despite knowing that it wasn’t true—that it hadn’t been true in either timeline—just the fact that Jonah would look him in the eye and even imply that he was the sort to abandon his people was enough to leave him momentarily speechless. And the fact that Jonah believed, or pretended to believe, that Jon would abandon Martin of all people…

He was about to explode, to start yelling, to reach out and strangle Jonah Magnus with his bare hands, when Martin started laughing. It was somewhere between the way he’d laughed when Jon had floated the idea of gouging their eyes out and running away together and the way he’d laughed when they’d been playing I Spy in the tombs. He sounded both incredulous and amused.

“You still have no idea, do you?” he said. “You still think you know what’s going on. This must really be embarrassing for you. Having to wait for an explanation.”

It was the last word that did it for Jon, grounding him and enabling him to recenter himself. Even if Martin’s voice hadn’t been enough, the reminder was. Once upon a time that no longer was, Jonah Magnus had forced Jon to monologue for him, forced him to recite his deeds and his plan before using him as a tool to trigger the end of the world. He had manipulated Jon at every turn, and then manipulated him once more at the end. And that was exactly what he was trying to do here. He was trying to goad Jon into doing something rash, into lashing out at him and tipping his hand too far.

He still thought he could win.

Jon didn’t take a deep breath; he wouldn’t give Jonah the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled him. But he did square his shoulders and let his lips curl into a sneer. “I know you can’t look into my head, Jonah. But can’t you guess? Even if your master won’t give you the answers, can’t you even attempt to figure them out on your own?”

Anger flashed in Jonah’s cold grey eyes, and Jon knew he’d scored another point. There would be no grading of this exam—it was strictly pass/fail—but the more he could build things up on his side, the easier it would be. He hoped. “Don’t prevaricate, Jon. This is hardly the time. Either tell me what you think you are doing, or allow me to get back to watching the people you should be watching.”

“The Jonathan Sims you employ is at the Unknowing,” Jon told him coldly. “Along with the Martin Blackwood you employ. I was that Jonathan Sims, once, but not now. I am from the future, Jonah Magnus. A future that is not and will never be.”

“If you are trying to make a joke—”

Jon ran the backs of two fingers over his cheek, indicating the worm scars. “Jane Prentiss, twenty-sixth July, 2016.” He touched his side. “The Distortion, otherwise known as Michael, second October, 2016.” He held out his right hand, palm outward, and notched another point in his credit when Jonah flinched, almost imperceptibly. “Jude Perry, twenty-fourth April, 2017.”

Jonah’s eyes widened—and then, not entirely to Jon’s surprise, a slow smile crossed his face. “The Corruption, the Spiral, the Desolation. And that scar at your throat—yes, I saw that. The Slaughter?”

“The Hunt. Daisy Tonner, twenty-eighth April, 2017.” Jon pulled aside the collar of Martin’s sweater—not the green one he’d worn since Martin wrapped him in it for comfort after he ended the world or the soft blue one that Martin wore more often than any other because Jon had complimented him on it without thinking long before either of them knew they would end up together, but the slightly lopsided red one that was Jon’s new favorite, because it was the one Martin had patiently worked on while Jon read statements to feed himself, the one that was proof he didn’t really need to be able to see to knit. “This is the Slaughter. Melanie King, twenty-fifth February, 2018.” He let the collar fall back into place and smoothed it out carefully. “The others don’t show.”

“But you have them all.” Jonah’s smile broadened. “It worked. The ritual was a success, and you came back…thinking you could stop me.”

“Well done, Jonah,” Jon said, in the same voice one might otherwise use with a child who had successfully tied his own shoes for the first time. “That’s all absolutely correct.”

“Oh, Jon.” Jonah’s voice took on an almost pitying tone. “And you thought telling me that would mean…what, exactly? You think it won’t work now? That you’ve warned your—counterpart, and now he can escape it? He has three marks already, at least.”

Behind Jonah’s shoulder, Martin silently held up his free hand, displaying all five fingers. Jon swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat as he realized Martin was right. Apart from the two he’d had before they arrived—the Web and the Eye—and being stabbed by and later traveling through the halls of the Distortion, Past Jon had been kidnapped and essentially tortured by the Stranger, and his encounter with Julia and Trevor in America was probably enough to give him a mark from the Hunt.

“And even if he escapes,” Jonah continued, oblivious to what was going on behind him, “there are still the others. Even knowing, it’s unavoidable, Jon. Fear comes for us all, in whatever guise it wishes, and the Institute is a lure many of them cannot resist. They will be marked, and when they are—”

“No,” Jon interrupted, and this time he let the static crackle through his voice. “They may be marked, Jonah Magnus, but it will not be to your advantage. This ends here.”

Jonah sneered, but Jon had already seen the flash of fear in his eyes. “You think you’ve learned enough to stop me? I have two hundred years of experience and Knowledge. What do you bring to the table? A few tricks? This cheap attempt at intimidation? You cannot overpower me, Jon. Not now when I can see my triumph within my grasp. Thwart me, and I will simply find another.”

“Oh, no.” Jon took another diagonal step, turning his shoulders as he did so; as he expected, Jonah followed him. “There will be no one else. Not from you. Never again.”

“How, exactly, do you intend to stop me?” Jonah demanded, drawing himself up.

Jon snorted. “I had considered taking you out the way you took out one of the others. I considered shooting you. Like you did to Gertrude.” He swallowed hard. “And Martin.”

“I never—ah.” Jonah’s unpleasant smile smeared across his face again. “Yes, I suppose that would be quite effective in slowing you down, wouldn’t it? If I were to—take him out, shall we say?” He slipped one hand under his jacket.

“You don’t have it with you,” Jon said with contempt. “I don’t even need the Eye to know that. If you had brought your gun, you wouldn’t have bothered trying to get into Martin’s head. Not once you were down here. After all…” He waved one hand around the room. “Who would be here to witness? Only the Eye.”

“Perhaps I think he’s too useful to kill,” Jonah said.

Jon curled one hand into a fist and fought back the anger and nausea the way Jonah’s voice curled around the word useful brought up. He had to keep it together. Had to keep this going. “I could have beaten you to death, too. Like you did Jurgen Leitner. And framed me for.”

Again he took a half-step back, rotating slightly this time, and again Jonah followed. Jon glanced at Sasha, her eyes glittering with excitement and interest even from that distance, and raised his eyebrows in silent question. She nodded once. Jon blinked his acknowledgment and swiftly returned his gaze to Jonah. He’d managed it right. He now had the tunnel to the Institute at his back and the Panopticon at his front. He was directly between the two access points for the Beholder. He had Jonah exactly where he wanted him.

“Jurgen Leitner?” Jonah repeated. “That pompous ass?”

Martin and Melanie’s snorts were nearly identical. Jon didn’t bother to repress his smirk. “He’s living in those tunnels, you know. Has been for years. He used to help Gertrude out, too. He was going to tell me some of those details you thought my counterpart didn’t know, and I wasn’t knowledgeable enough to shield my thoughts enough that you didn’t know I was talking to someone. You slipped in while I was out of my office, tormented him the same way you did Gertrude, and beat him to death with a length of pipe. Left the body there. Of course Daisy thought I’d done it.”

“It would have been quite difficult for me to use you if you were in prison.”

“Oh, you made it clear that you didn’t actually think I’d done it. But you certainly brought me to Daisy’s attention. Dangled me in front of her. You knew she would come after me eventually, knew it would mark me. You used her as much as you used the rest of us, long before she joined the Institute.” Jon met Jonah’s eyes. It was far easier than it had ever been before. “Never again, Jonah. I will never allow you to use anyone for your evil purpose again. You don’t deserve the power you want to wield.”

“You could join me, you know,” Jonah offered.

Jon almost choked. “What?”

“Join me,” Jonah said again, and if Jon thought for a minute that Elias Bouchard was the type, he’d have expected the next sentence to be something along the lines of Together we can rule the galaxy as father and son. “You’ve seen the world, Jon. The world we created, in your time. You know how very beautiful it can be. Rulers together of a forsaken world. Overseers of all. Imagine it. You could choose who lived and died. Control how much suffering was inflicted on those who suffered. You know what that fear feels like when it flows through you…imagine controlling it, drinking the whole world. I know you wouldn’t be here if you had had that power. You would never have wanted to leave it.” He spread his hands out invitingly towards Jon. “We would live forever. Imagine it, Jon. It would be so easy, and so rewarding. All you need to do…is say the words.”

Martin’s face went white as a sheet. Those freckles that hadn’t been bleached to pale shadows by the Lonely stood out clearer than Jon had seen them in ages, and his lips parted slightly. The naked fear in his sightless eyes was almost physically painful. He was scared, worse than he’d been in a long time.

And something seemed to tighten around Jon’s wrist.

Martin knew Jon better than anybody in the universe, maybe better than Jon even knew himself. He knew how close to the edge Jon had been at times, how close he’d come to succumbing to the Eye and becoming its conduit. How hard Jon had fought to keep from becoming like Jude Perry, like Mike Crew, like Jared Hopworth. And he knew just how hard Jon was tempted at times to give in, how much Jon wanted to know what would happen if he did. How tired he got sometimes of the constant daily struggle. He alone, out of anybody, knew that there was a part of Jon that wanted to say yes.

But not enough of one. Not nearly enough of one. There was no temptation in the world strong enough to lure him away from Martin, nothing in the universe he wanted more than to spend whatever time he was granted with the man he loved. Martin had promised to kill him if he ever came close to agreeing to what Jonah was proposing, and Jon had sworn to himself then and there that he would never force Martin to make that call. He knew that Martin would never be able to live with himself if he did. And Jon loved him too much to hurt him that way if there was any other option.

But Martin couldn’t see his face. For all he knew, Jon was seriously considering the offer. Jon would have to reassure him.

“If you think,” he said, “for one moment that I would agree to that knowing what it would mean, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought you were. And that, Jonah Magnus, is saying something.”

Martin drew in a sharp breath and closed his eyes for a brief moment, then seemed to relax. Jonah’s smile melted away. He opened his mouth to say something. Jon didn’t give him the chance. “I have seen your ‘forsaken world’, and I have seen what it cost everyone who lived in it. I have felt the pain and suffering of those within it, and I know that there is no one, Watched or Watcher, who escaped that pain and suffering. Even those who thought they wanted it, in the end, found they did not. Even you would have learned that, sooner or later.” He narrowed his eyes at Jonah. “And I would sooner gouge my own eyes out, here and now, than share any kind of power with you.”

Jon again saw the cold, pale fury in Jonah’s eyes that he had last seen when Martin defied him after the Apocalypse, but this time it didn’t go away. “That can be arranged.”

“I don’t think so.” Jon felt the static building up again, and this time, he didn’t try to hold it back. “Your time has come.”

Power thrummed through his veins. It was the way he’d felt when facing down the Not-Them both times, when he’d struck down Jared Hopworth, when he’d caught hold of Helen’s lie, but somehow it was stronger. Again he felt that tightening around his wrist, and he could feel a power flowing through that as well, fueling him, giving him strength and courage.

“For two hundred years, you have sat atop your ivory tower and pretended to rule,” he said. The words came easily, leading Jon to wonder if he was saying them or the Ceaseless Watcher was. “You have set yourself up as a god among men, and you have believed yourself to be untouchable. You have manipulated and pulled and lured, and through it all, you have believed yourself to be endearing yourself to your master. But It Knows You, and it Knows that it is not fear you have feasted on all these years, merely power over others. You have desired only your own ends and served no one but yourself.”

He was aware of an echo to his voice, as though someone else was speaking the words with him. At first he thought it was just that, an echo, or maybe the Beholder resonating through him, but he recognized the second voice for what it was at about the same moment Jonah’s eyes widened, and the fear in them wasn’t fleeting. It was Gertrude Robinson’s voice joining Jon’s, maybe prompting him, maybe lending her power to his. Maybe it was just a manifestation of his power after all, enhancing Jonah’s fear.

Jon could taste that fear. It was exhilarating and intoxicating. Whatever was around his wrist seemed to tighten further, reminding him that it was there, reminding him of what he was trying to do. Keeping him grounded. In that instant, Jon recognized it as a manifestation of his bond to Martin, the one Annabelle Cane had enhanced, and it gave him a renewed sense of conviction.

“Two hundred years of pain and death and misery,” he continued, “and all of it spent running from your own fears. Know now that Fear has come for you, Jonah Magnus. You cannot escape it and you cannot run from it.”

“No—no—no,” Jonah gasped, backing away from Jon, or trying to. “J-Jon, please—”

“For our Tim,” Jon snarled, and Gertrude Robinson’s voice and all their combined power joined in with him. “For our Sasha, and for Gertrude Robinson, and for all the others you have killed and trapped and harmed. For my Martin. For every life you took, every dream you destroyed, every ounce of pain and fear you inflicted on others—let it all be turned back on you tenfold. Feel it all, and for the first time in your life, Jonah Magnus, you will truly Know.”

“Jon—please—I don’t want to die,” Jonah begged.

“Neither did they.” Jon raised his voice and felt his hair stand on end. “Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this miserable, pathetic, wretched thing!”

The light in the room flashed as though struck by lightning, but a brilliant, blazing green, coming from both directions and centered directly on Jonah Magnus, who began to scream. Jon felt the fear slam into him, filling him near to bursting, thrumming through his veins and body like he’d simultaneously grabbed hold of a live electrical wire and tried to drink from a fire hose like a straw. Either Elias Bouchard’s body was shrinking or Jon had grown, or perhaps he was merely floating above the floor, but whatever the case, he was now looking down on the man from above.

In the exact same instant, Martin lunged forward and, with a roar of satisfaction and an accuracy that Jon Knew would not have been possible without their bond, drove the knife with both hands into the heart of Jonah Magnus’s body.

Elias’s scream rose to a fever pitch, joined by more voices—six, if Jon was any judge: the screams of the other five men Jonah Magnus murdered to extend his life, and the scream of the original Jonah Magnus himself, a dry, dusty sort of scream, desperate and frightened and pained. The green light flared up and filled the room in a blinding, soundless explosion—

—and then, suddenly, it was gone, leaving a vacuum of silence and the ruins of a prison guard tower.

Jon’s feet hit the ground—so he had been floating after all—and he stumbled slightly. Where Elias Bouchard had been, there was nothing but a scorch mark on the stone, and Martin was half-kneeling in the center of the guard tower, knife still in hand, but nothing remaining of Jonah Magnus’s original body but a scattering of dust.

Martin blinked twice, dropped the knife, and got to his feet, turning unerringly in Jon’s direction. “Jon?” he called.

“Martin,” Jon choked out. He reached out his hands desperately for Martin, wanting to hold him close, to tell him they’d done it, that they were safe, that it was over, that it had worked. That Jonah Magnus was dead and would never harm anyone else again. That they had won.

That he loved him, so very, very much.

He made it no more than a couple of steps before his strength failed him and he pitched forward, gasping. Two strong arms caught him and pulled him close. The last thing Jon heard was Martin desperately, frantically screaming his name.

And then everything went black.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #smiting #intimidation tw #manipulation tw #belittling tw #stabbing tw #mention of murder (inc. brutal pipe murder)#we're so close to the end y'all #I can't believe it

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strafethesesinners · 4 years ago

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Tagged by @blissfulalchemist to post a fic from a year or more ago (? I think that’s how it goes). None of my Far Cry 5 is a year old yet, but I’ll take this opportunity to post this Dishonored oneshot I did back in 2016.

(I’ll tag some people if you want to do it or just want to read @risenlucifer @nightwingshero @chazz-anova @smithandrogers @madsismad @amistrio @chyrstis @consumedkings @faithchel @shallow-gravy)

Spoilers for the Knife of Dunwall Dishonored DLC Warnings for violence and gore Words: 2392 also on AO3

Daud was drowning. The icy, stinking water of the Wrenhaven River grew darker and darker above his head as he sank further into its depths. Daud was a strong swimmer, but something had a hold of his legs, pulling him down. He looked below him and screamed. Hundreds, thousands of corpses clogged the riverbed, clinging to his legs, his arms, and tearing at his clothes with rotting claws. Water rushed into his throat, but he could not close his mouth or his eyes. The more he struggled, the harder the bodies gripped him. They were screaming, moaning, begging for mercy. The water became blood: the blood of every person he had ever killed. It was choking him, yet he could not die. The pleading eyes of the corpses turned black and Daud understood: he was already dead and this was his hell. Still he fought against it, trying in vain to break free and reach the surface, but the ghosts clung on, all of them wailing as one.

“Mommy!”

Daud woke up shaking, his stomach curdling. He sat up and dry heaved over his blankets, but nothing came up. He tore off his sweat soaked shirt and tried to stand. It took him several minutes to regulate his breathing and bring his mind back to reality. It was barely after sunset, judging by the faint light coming through the glass-less windows. Daud lit a cigarette and walked out onto his small balcony on the top floor of the Chamber of Commerce building. He took a deep breath, welcoming the cool air on his sweaty face. The Flooded District smelled of Weepers, dead rats, and whale oil, but it was a familiar smell, and lately, Daud had been latching onto anything even vaguely comforting. He was starting to think his assassins were right, and he was losing it. He could sense them losing confidence in him day by day, and he was grateful none of them were here right now to see him trembling, and sweating, wearing only his trousers: terrified of a dream. But as his mind grew clearer, it seemed odd that no one was around. Daud’s eyes scanned the rooftops carefully. There were no Whalers in sight. A different sort of unease pricked at the back of his mind, as he tossed his cigarette butt away. Instantly, he was alert: listening, watching. He tensed. His scarred hands gripped the iron railing, the Outsider’s Mark glowing faintly on the back of his left hand. Daud was about to turn back into his room when he heard a click behind him, and the cold metal of a pistol pressed against the base of his skull.

He froze. There were only two people in the world that could sneak up on him undetected. Not sure which one he was dreading more, he spoke.

“Billie?”

“Yes.”

The shock of hearing her voice was colder than the hands of the nightmare ghosts. Daud now knew he would have gladly taken the Royal Protector over this; he would have taken anything over this. Daud’s mind was reeling, but he kept himself absolutely still, and his voice calm.

“You’re here to kill me.”

“Yes,” she said again, although it had not been a question. His dream came rushing back to him, and he was suddenly afraid. All these years he had often longed to die, but now a terrible thought occurred to him. What if these dreams were glimpses of what was to come? He never asked the Outsider, but he assumed that his spirit would go to the Void after his death. What if his fate was an eternity drowning in blood in the Void; tormented forever by those he had slain?

I don’t want to die, he thought, almost frantically, I can’t die. His heart was beating hard, but still he remained outwardly calm. Billie kept her pistol at his head, but had not moved to pull the trigger. Daud took her hesitation as a good sign. This would not be an easy thing for her. Daud had not become the most feared man in the Empire through violence alone; he was as cunning as he was ruthless, and he had talked himself out of sticky situations almost as much as he had fought his way out. If he could somehow convince her to spare him…..

“Billie…” he began.

“Don’t try to talk your way out of this one, Daud,” Billie said. Her voice was clear; she wasn’t wearing her mask.

“You know me too well, Lurk,” he said wryly.

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing and you’re not going to change my mind.” The slightest tremor ran up her arm; Daud could feel it through the pistol point.

“Kill me then,” Daud said. She did nothing. Daud took a chance, and turned slowly around to face her. She did not lower the pistol, but neither did she fire. Billie’s eyes were wide, but there was a determined set to her jaw. It was an expression he knew well. She had the same look when they had first met, and she had dared to face him: clearly frightened and yet too stubborn to back down.

“Can at least ask why I’m about to die?” He looked her in the eye.

“You’re weak,” she replied coldly, “and old. This outfit needs a new leader. Someone to get us through this plague, and the chaos you caused by killing the Empress. I don’t want to do this, but it has to be done.”

“Does it now?” Daud snapped. There was an awful pain in his chest. Worse than any physical wound he’d ever had. It was a pain he hadn’t felt since he realized he would never see his mother again. “I always assumed one of you would kill me and take my place,” he said more softly, “ I just never thought…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. He knew he was too compromised to get out of this one by talking, Billie was much too close to him and had learned all his tricks over the years; the realization made him sick. He had never felt so vulnerable.

“You’re right, Billie,” he said, “I always thought of myself as clever, but clearly I was a fool for ever trusting you.”

Billie smiled her little apologetic smile; the one she would wear when he scolded her for killing one guard too many, and she knew he didn’t really mean it.

“There’s more to it,” she said, “you deserve to know the truth. The woman you’ve been seeking, Delilah,”

“What about her?”

“She…..came to me, a while back. She offered me so much…...showed me a new way to see; she gave me so much more than you ever did. More than you could ever hope to give.”

Daud could hear the contempt in her speech and it hurt. But now anger was starting to burn in his veins. Of course it all came back to her. Delilah. She had taken his best fighter, his best friend even, certainly the only person he cared about in the world, and turned her against him. A familiar itch clawed it’s way down his arms, making his fingers twitch and ache for a blade. The sun went down behind the buildings, and the Flooded District was doused in the cool grey glow of twilight.

“The power she has, Daud,” Billie was saying, “you can’t even imagine. She’s stronger than you, stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. And all I have to do to be at her side is…..get rid of you.”

She stared at him and her eyes were sad. Daud’s head was pounding.

“I’m sorry, Daud,” Billie said.

“Me too,” he said.

Daud’s hand flashed up and grabbed Billie’s arm, forcing it to the side. Her shot went wide, and he twisted her arm hard. She gave a gasp of pain, and the pistol fell over the railing into the muddy water far below. Daud transversed past her back into his room. He snatched his sword up from beside his bed, there was no time to grab anything else. Billie drew her sword. The metal floor was cold on Daud’s bare feet as they circled each other for a moment; the Outsider’s Mark burned hot. Billie sent a wristbow bolt at his head, and he dodged, then drove forward with a quick thrust at her midriff. She blocked it just in time, and pushed back against his blade. She stomped down on the top of his right foot with her boot, the pain made him falter and she beat his sword aside and punched him in the face. Daud hopped backward, ducking as another bolt flew over his head. He spat out a mouthful of blood with a curse, and then transversed behind her and struck. She turned and parried, and he blocked her retaliatory slash. They battled back and forth across the metal walkway that served as Daud’s bedroom for what seemed like an hour. It was hard to measure time during a fight. But Daud was the better swordsman, and he was closing on Billie when she crouched, opened her mouth, and screamed.

The sound was like a physical force. It lifted Daud up off his feet and sent him tumbling over the railing into his office below. He landed hard on his desk. For a brief moment he lay stunned; the air knocked out of him. Then her heard the sound of Billie blinking down next to him and jumped up as quickly as he could. He wasn’t quite fast enough. Her sword missed its target of his neck, but cut his shoulder to the bone. The pain of it spurred his desperation, and he attacked with everything he had left. Billie was never taken off guard, but his fury did seem to rattle her some. He managed to get in a few cuts of his own in as her first few blocks came too slow. But against her padded leather whaler suit, the damage was nowhere near as bad as when she hit him. Soon he was bleeding heavily from wounds to his forearms and chest, in addition to his shoulder,and his strength was starting to fade. He could barely lift his sword arm high enough to parry her strikes. He curled his Marked hand into a fist and sent a call out through the Void, but no assassins appeared. Billie must’ve told them ahead of time what she planned, and killed anyone who objected. Daud wondered if Thomas was dead, or if he had also turned against him. He retreated across the room. He tried one of the doors, thinking of escape, but they were barred from the other side.

Of course he thought grimly. He spied the open window behind his desk, and blinked over to it, using the last of his energy. He turned to locate her before he jumped. Billie was standing in the middle of the office. She raised her hand, and sent a shower of several shadowy darts flying at him. He blocked some with his sword, and covered his face with his other arm. But there were too many. One went through his thigh, three into his unprotected guts, and one into his chest. It had missed his heart he know, or he would already be dead, but he could tell it had punctured his lung. He fell to one knee, struggling to breathe. Billie came towards him, but stopped at his desk, just out of reach. Daud still gripped his sword tightly. She approached him slowly. He attempted one last weak slash, but she grabbed his wrist and wrenched the sword from his hand. Gently, she set it down on his desk.

“It’s over, Daud,” she said quietly.

“Looks like it, huh? I taught you too well,” he laughed, and blood came bubbling up his throat. He choked and coughed, the blood spattering down his bare chest and onto the wooden floorboards. He slumped back against his bookshelf. Billie stood watching him. When he looked up at her again, her eyes were wet. Daud had never once seen her cry. And yet, staring into her eyes, Daud knew she was still going to go through with it. He wasn’t ready to face the Void, but, now that it seemed inevitable, he wasn’t so afraid as before. There was no point. The best he could hope for was that he was wrong, and that there was nothing after death. And the worst…..Daud wondered if it was possible to fight ghosts in hell. He wanted to laugh again, but it hurt too much. Blood leaked steadily from the holes in his gut.

“It was always going to end this way, Daud,” she said, “You and me. It’s our nature. But you’re not as weak as I thought.”

“Thanks,” Daud coughed again. The pain was agonizing. “Could you find it in you to end it quickly?” he gasped out. Billie continued to stare at him, unmoving. Daud didn’t know how long it was going to take to die, maybe up to an hour depending on how bad the wound in his chest was, maybe even longer. But maybe that was all part of it. He never thought Billie hated him so much. He tried to reach up to her and she flinched back, still wary.

“I’m not going to fight you anymore, Billie, I just need you to do it now. If you ever had any….feeling for me at all, don’t let me die like this, make it a clean death.” She still did nothing, looking at him almost in disbelief now, as if she didn’t quite trust what she was seeing. “Billie, please,” Daud said, “don’t make me beg.”

Without a word, Billie took his sword from the desk and knelt down so she was level with him. She reached out and cupped his face in her gloved hand, and then drove his sword into his heart with all her strength. He convulsed once as his life bled away.

“Sorry, Daud,” Billie whispered.

Her whisper went on and on and turned into the haunting hiss of runesong, which became the mournful cry of whales. The pale blue light of the Void crept over his sight, obliterating everything else, and the Knife of Dunwall was dead.

#Dishonored #Daud #Billie Lurk #the knife of dunwall #dishonored fic #ok so I read this again and #y'all it's pretty damn good #if I do say so myself #Sorry about tumblr making it all single space i know it makes it hard to read #my writing #fanfic tag game #posting in the middle of the night but I'll reblog later

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somethinginthewayiam · 4 years ago

Text

The universe can be a bitch (Part 1/2)

(this is a continuation of Nightcap)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x OFC (Anna)

Warnings: slight smut (leading up to part 2)

Words: 6583

Summary: Anna was back on her way to Philadelphia to replace a sick colleague at the Wizard World after her one-night-stand with Sebastian, not knowing what she got herself into and who she would be meeting again at the Wizard World, and most of all, being responsible for there. The three actors from Civil War. Anna sure wasn't ready to face her one-night-stand from the night before, especially when he was now a client and strictly taboo...

a/n: I wrote this after the Wizzard World Convention 2016 and as a follow-up to Nightcap. Hope you like it and let me know if you want to be tagged for Part 2!

a/n: IMPORTANT! I've never been to a Comic Con or an event like it so I don't really know how it actually works and what's going on there, so please don't judge me and my story on my lack of knowledge. I built up the convention how I needed it for my story and I hope you still like it. Everything I know is from some pictures and videos from people that went there...

tag list:

@himynamebel00 @melaninromantic @obliviatevamps

A hammering noise ripped Anna out of her sleep and for a second she didn’t know where she was. She reached over to the nightstand and her hand searched for her phone but it wasn’t there. Somewhere in this room it played her typical wake-up music which clearly didn’t wake her up this time.

The hammering noise resounded again and she finally noticed that someone was at her door. With wobbly feet she got up and wrapped the sheet around her naked body. The next second she remembered why she was sleeping naked, something she normally never did. Sebastian.

His face appeared in her head and a smile came across her face. Someone knocked at her door again. “Oh yeah”, she said to herself and stumbled over to the door. For a second she thought it could be Sebastian and her heart started racing. With a smile she slightly opened the door to get a peek at who was in front of her hotel room.

The corners of her mouth dropped immediately as she saw the receptionist at her door. “I’m sorry to disturb you Miss, but you asked for a wake-up call and didn’t answer the phone, so I wanted to make sure you were alright”, he said and politely looked at the doorframe instead of her body wrapped in sheets. “Oh, yes, thank you”, she said rattled and brushed her messy hair out of her face.

“What time is it now?”, she asked. “It’s 20 minutes past 6, Miss”, he said and her eyes widened. “What?! Shit!”, she blurted out. “Can you call me a cab, please? I’ll be down in 5 minutes, 10 tops”, she hastily said and ran back into her room to get dressed and pack her suitcase.

“Shit, shit, shit”, she repeatedly said while she collected her clothes off the floor while her phone still played the music somewhere in the room. She finally found it in her purse next to her suitcase. Anna quickly put on her jeans and the shirt from the day before. She collected her things from the bathroom and threw everything into her suitcase.

Anna rushed down to the reception to ask if her cab was already here. “Yes, it is waiting outside for you, Miss”, the man from before said. “Thank you very much”, she said and turned around to leave. “Excuse me, Miss? You still have to pay your bill”, he said. “But the airline is paying for the room”, Anna replied with a bad feeling in her stomach. “The hotel room, yes, but not the drinks from the mini-bar”, he explained.

“How do you even know that? I just left the room”, she asked. “I saw the glasses on the table”, he simply said. “Can I please have your credit card number so we can charge your card when our staff has checked your room?”, he asked. With a frustrated grunt she looked for her wallet in her purse and handed him her credit card. The receptionist gathered all the needed information and then gave back the card.

She quickly ran out to the waiting cab and prayed for low traffic. Anna arrived at the airport just in time to make it to the check-in counter to get an angry look by the airline employee as she checked her in. As soon as Anna had made it through the security check, she went to get a cup of coffee. Now that she had time to sit down for a moment, she realized how tired she was. 4 hours of sleep definitely were not enough but the reason why she had so little sleep was a very good excuse. She stared into the distance and smiled while she stirred in her coffee. Since she had some time left, she decided to go buy a book for the almost 90 minutes of flying she had left until she finally arrived in Philadelphia.

The whole reason she went to Philadelphia was for work. Normally she worked at an event management agency in New York as a hostess for VIP guests. A colleague of her got sick at the first day of the Wizard World Con and Anna had to replace her. She was on her way home from L.A. where her agency had held an event and Philadelphia was a last minute call. Anna had never been to such an event before but her friend Susan from the same agency worked there too this weekend and would help her out if she needed anything.

She didn’t even know which guests she would have to accompany there but Susan would give her all the information as soon as she got there. Anna arrived at her gate a few minutes into boarding and a long line had already formed. With a frustrated huff she took her place at the end of the line. She looked around to see if she could find Sebastian anywhere but since he was in business class, he probably had the early boarding privileges.

When the sign for the seat belt went off, Anna was finally able to go to the toilet. She had to wait in line behind 3 people. For a second she thought about pulling the same trick as on her first flight but the stewardess on this plane seemed to feel very strongly about separating the business class from coach after Anna overheard her talking to another passenger who had asked to go up front for some reason, she wasn’t able to hear why. But that’s when she knew she didn’t even need to ask to go through that velvet curtain.

What would she talk to him about anyways? She couldn’t remember that there was much talking between them last night other than sexual related stuff. Also it kind of seemed pathetic to her to go up to him because it felt like, “Hi, do you remember me? I’m the girl from last night you’ve fucked for two hours straight and then left without even paying for the drinks as you promised.”

Anna shook her head at herself and felt so stupid even considering it. She would probably never see him again and why ruin a perfect night? After she paid a well needed visit to the toilet, she took out the book she bought and started reading it. It took her a few tries to stop thinking about Sebastian and to concentrate on the words she read but after a while she got into the story. Although the book wasn’t that bad, she fell asleep after a few pages and the time flew by in no time.

Anna got ripped out of her sleep as the wheels touched ground and the whole plane shook for a second. As soon as they were allowed to loosen their seatbelts and get up, she grabbed her bag from the compartment box above her head and collected her stuff before she joined the long line of waiting passengers to leave the plane. In order to find the right baggage conveyor belt for her flight, she just followed a few familiar faces from the plane. She walked up to the already moving belt and put down her purse. The few minutes of sleep she had gotten on the plane had wracked her up more than they had helped.

“Hello, beautiful”, she suddenly heard behind her and quickly turned around. It was a bit hard to recognize him with his baseball cap and the ray bans he had put on but it definitely was Sebastian. “Hello”, she replied a bit startled because she thought her chances to meet him again were long gone. “I wanted to come find you on the plane but I fell asleep”, he spoke with a low voice so no one around would hear him. “Don’t worry about it, I fell asleep too”, she said and held an eye out for her suitcase as the first ones started to make their way along the conveyor belt.

They both watched the moving suitcases pass by. “How are your legs?”, he asked and she could hear his smile in his voice even without looking at him. “I’ll get around, thank you”, she replied, still not looking at him. Her crotch was well aware of her activities from last night, but she would not rub it into his face…she did that last night.

“I’d love to stay around a bit longer but I’m already late for work”, he said and shouldered his bag. “Do you only have this one bag?”, she asked, now facing him. “Yes, I’m here just for the weekend”, he said. “Yes, me too…work”, Anna told him and shrugged her shoulders. She felt the need to appear extra casual since she was feeling the complete opposite having him that close to her again.

“Since we’re both here for just the weekend, maybe we could meet up for a drink tonight when you get off work”, he suggested. “I don’t know when that will be, I’m just covering for someone…and I don’t think this would be a good idea anyways”, she said and looked down at her feet. “Maybe you’re right”, he said and although she felt the same, she was a bit sad that it seemed that he felt like that too. “But maybe you’re wrong”, he said and shot her a devilish grin.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself. “How about this? Since we’re both here just for the weekend…if we meet again then we’ll take it a sign that the universe wants us to have that drink”, she suggested. “The universe?”, he chuckled. “You still owe me a drink anyways. So much for ‘my treat’”, Anna said and put the last words in quotation marks with her fingers.

“Oh shit, I forgot to pay for the drinks”, he said, honestly sorry. “Yeah, well, I found out too this morning when they wanted my credit card number”, she said and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m so sorry. Now you have to let me make it up to you”, he said. “I thought you’re late for work?”, she asked with a smirk at how he probably wanted to make it up to her.

“Shit, you’re right, I really need to go now”, he sighed after a quick look at the clock on the monitor. “But I’m taking you up on that universe thing. If we meet again, we’ll have that drink”, he said and brushed his shoulder against hers as he leaned over.

Anna watched him walk away towards the exit. She actually was late for work too and she couldn’t see her suitcase anywhere. Just when she thought she had to go to the lost and found counter, she finally saw her luggage come out of the hole in the wall. With fast steps she walked towards her suitcase, took it off the belt and rushed to the exit. She immediately found a cab which seemed like a miracle and traffic wasn’t too bad either.

Anna had no time to go to her hotel first. The cab drove her straight to the Pennsylvania Convention Center where the event would be held. She texted Susan from the cab to come and pick her up at the employee’s entrance since she didn’t have any passes yet to get in.

“I thought you’d never make it”, were the words Susan greeted her with as she waved her past the security guards. “I’m so sorry, it’s a long story but I promise it’s not my fault”, Anna apologized and gave her a quick hug. “I know, I know. Thank you so much for filling in”, Susan said. She knew Anna for a few years now and she had always been the professional, punctual type, so that’s why she believed her.

Susan showed Anna where the rooms and offices for the employees were and handed her the pass with which she could walk around freely at the venue. Anna quickly changed in the toilet from her jeans and shirt to a taupe colored knee-long dress and heels in the same color, something she would normally wear to events she worked at. She brushed her long brown hair and put them up in a light, neat bun. There was just enough time left to refresh her make-up and then she walked out to meet with Susan again.

“So, this weekend you’re in charge of three of our biggest VIPs. Since Christine is sick, you’re the only one experienced enough to handle them”, Susan talked while she walked down a hall. Anna was barely able to keep up. “You’ve got the Civil War fraction, names and info are here”, she said and handed Anna a clipboard with the schedules for panels, photo-ops and signings. “Your guests arrived just a minute ago. I had Amber greet them and bring them to you”, Susan kept on talking. Anna just nodded. “I’m in charge of the other guests from Marvel, so we’ll meet up eventually at some point, but please don’t ask me when”, she said and stopped in front of a big door.

“I know this is your first comic themed convention. It can be a bit much but I’m sure you’ll handle it just fine. Just be your professional self and the weekend will be over in no time…and thank you so much again for filling in”, Susan said, gave her a quick hug and pushed the door open.

It was very loud and a lot of people in amazingly detailed costumes walked around. Anna was immediately fascinated and blown away by it, but sadly had no time to look around any further. Susan directed her to the backstage area for the guests and walked into a room. “This is the room for your guests. You will be coming back here every now and then, when they have a break or waiting for their next session. I’ll be on the other end of the center, so if you need anything, just call me”, she said and was about to walk out again. “And good luck”, she said while closing the door behind her and the next moment Anna was alone.

She took a water bottle from the table full of food and drinks in the corner and took a big sip. It was time to look at the clip board since her guests could arrive any minute. Anna walked over to the couch and sat down. Her shoes hurt her already and she thought they might have been a bad choice in this big center. Maybe she had time in-between her guests’ appointments to go change to more comfortable lower heels.

Anna looked at the printouts of her guests. “Oh Chris Evans”, she said out loud when she looked at the first page. There was a page with a picture and a short bio of everyone. Normally she would have studied them to know about her guests beforehand but today she didn’t have the time to go into detail.

She turned the page to find Anthony Mackie next. She didn’t recognize him, but his face looked oddly familiar, she probably had seen him in a movie before or something. “And my third protégée is…”, she said, but before she could turn the page, she heard voices and steps coming towards the door. Just as she looked up, the door opened and a red-haired girl came in. “This is your dressing room for the next two days. And I would like to introduce you to your hostess for the weekend. She will take care of anything you’ll need and will guide you to your appointments”, the girl said as she stepped in and right behind her, three tall men walked in.

Anna stood up, straightened out her dress and when she looked up again, froze in her movements. “Gentlemen, this is…”, the red-haired girl said but got interrupted. “Anna”, Sebastian said and seemed just as surprised as she was. “Sebastian”, Anna said with big eyes. “You two know each other?”, Chris Evans asked surprised and his eyes wandered between the two of them. “Ehm…yes, we…ran into each other on the plane”, she said, internally panicking.

She made a step towards Chris to greet him, just concentrating on the person in front of her. “Hello, I’m Anna, nice to meet you”, she said and shook his hand, then Anthony Mackie’s and then stood in front of Sebastian. “Hi”, he said, shook her hand and held it a bit longer than necessary.

When Anna took a step back again, she took a deep breath then reached for her clipboard. This was a job, she had to be professional. And a big rule of being professional meant to have no personal relations with your guests, which she had broken already.

“From what I can see, we have a busy day ahead of us”, she said, scraping together all the professional hostess-experience she had. She just had to act like she had not seen Sebastian naked or going down on her between her thighs. Easy…not.

“The first thing today is…”, Anna said and looked at the event schedule. Of course. “A photo-op with Sebastian”, she said and shot a quick look at him before she looked down on the board in her hand again. “We will have to leave for that in about 10 minutes, but before, please help yourselves to some refreshments and settle in. I will be right back”, Anna said with a professional smile and with that the guys spread out across the room.

Before Sebastian could say anything to her, she turned to the girl still standing at the door. “Amber, right?”, she asked and the girl nodded. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”, she asked more out of politeness because she already dragged her out by the arm and closed the door behind her.

“Thank you for bringing them here. I just need to ask you where the hell I have to go for those photo-ops. I didn’t have time to study the maps and I don’t want to embarrass myself”, she said to Amber. Even more than I already did, she added in her head and listened carefully to what Amber told her and wrote everything down on her clipboard.

She actually just needed a good reason not to be in the same room as Sebastian for a moment to understand what just had happened.

When Amber left, Anna flicked through the pages and stopped at the printout of Sebastian. How could she not have known who she had slept with? The posters for the movie were everywhere and it was THE movie everyone was talking about. She felt so stupid. She could really only hope that Sebastian would behave and not make inappropriate comments or something stupid to throw her off. But from what she had experienced so far with him, her hopes weren’t high up.

She walked up and down in front of the door, taking deep breaths and tried to calm herself down. “Everything will be alright. I’m a professional, I am good at my job, I know what I’m doing”, she mumbled to herself, her fingers tightly gripping the clipboard in her hands. “He is just a client, a normal client…”, she tried to convince herself.

Anna looked at her phone and decided that it was time for the first photo-op of the day. She took a deep breath again and opened the door. “Sebastian, they’re ready for you. Please follow me”, she said with a bright, professional smile and held the door open for him. “I will see you gentlemen in about 30 minutes. If you need anything, someone is always around”, she said and waited for Sebastian to walk out and closed the door behind the two of them.

She started walking as quickly as her heels allowed her and from a quick look over her shoulder she saw that Sebastian had no trouble keeping up. “So you’re not gonna talk to me?”, he asked after a few moments of walking in silence. “Only work related”, she replied to him without turning around. “What about the universe and the sign? You’re words, not mine”, he said, his hands held up in a defensive motion and with a smug grin.

He caught up to her and was now walking very closely behind Anna. “That was before I knew you were a client”, she said with a hint of bitterness in her voice. “The universe can be a bitch, huh?”, he asked with a chuckle but before Anna could say anything in return, they walked out to the general area and it was just too loud to talk.

A lot of fans recognized him but he didn’t have time to stop for autographs. Later at his booth he would have enough time to sign their pictures. Anna had to concentrate on the directions Amber had given her but luckily the way was well-signposted and they arrived there just a few minutes later.

A makeup-artist was already waiting for him to make him picture-ready. “Could you take special care of my eyes, I had a long night”, he asked the make-up lady. Although Anna was studying the schedule, she knew he was looking at her when he said it. She just rolled her eyes and concentrated on her work.

Anna saw that dozens of people were already lined-up in front of the booth as she peaked through the black curtain. It amazed her again how much work a lot of them had put into their costumes. Some of them were probably working months in preparation for this weekend and their opportunity to show it to their hero.

She felt a hand on her back and shot back up. “Excuse me, Miss, I have to get to my photo-op or my boss will be mad at me”, he said with an innocent voice and pushed past her way closer than he had to in this wide space. “I’m not your boss, I’m your hostess”, she snapped at him. “Who said I was talking about you?”, he whispered as he stood in front of her. She didn’t know what to say in return and the inhaled air got stock in her throat in lack of a witty answer. “But I was”, he mouthed with a wink as he took a step backwards and turned around just in time to go through the curtain. The crowd immediately started cheering and Sebastian greeted his fans.

The photo session started and Anna was surprised and impressed at how easy-going and relaxed he was with his fans. There was no pose or idea he didn’t do and he made everyone feel like they just had the best idea for a photo. She had to admit that it was very charming and immediately hated him for how adorable he was.

“Sorry for being late”, a big, black man appeared next to her. “I’m the security guard for the Civil War cast this weekend”, he added as he saw her questioning look. “Oh, sure. Hi, I’m Anna, I’m taking care of the Civil War cast for the weekend”, she introduced herself and stuck her hand out. “I’m Melvin, but you can call me Mel”, he shook her hand.

“Is this your first Wizard World or any kind of Con?”, he asked. “What gave me away?”, she asked with a shy smile. “Your shoes. You’re not gonna make it in them for long”, he explained and nodded at her shoes. “I already regret them”, she said and shifted her weight over to her other leg. “Where are you normally working at?”, he kept asking her.

“I’m a hostess for high profile guests in New York, mostly at club openings and vernissages…why?”, she added after she saw his look on her. “Oh nothing, I’m just making conversation”, he said with a shrug. “No, you’re not”, she said suspiciously. Melvin shrugged his shoulders again. “Mel, if we want us to get along on this weekend, you have to be honest with me”, she said with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“You’re a bit overdressed”, he said, looking up and down her dress. She looked down herself. “What’s wrong with my dress?”, she asked insecurely. “It’s way too much. All staff around here is dressed in jeans and a black shirt”, he explained to her. Anna remembered Susans clothes when she’d picked her up just an hour ago. Jeans and black shirt.

She looked around her. The make-up lady, Melvin, the photographer, the woman who controlled the amount of people for every photo. All of them were wearing pants and a black shirt. Shit!

“Great, now I feel weird”, she said with a huff and pouted. “Maybe you’ll find time to change later”, he suggested, also watching Sebastian at his photo session, probably ready to jump in when needed, but everyone behaved perfectly. “I should, shouldn’t I?”, she asked. “Yeah”, Melvin nodded and then they both watch the action in front of them in silence.

A few minutes before Sebastians time was over, she walked back to her assigned dressing room, leaving Sebastian in Melvins care to collect Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie for their photo-ops, which would be held at almost the same time in two separate booths next to each other.

After that they had other photo-ops with all kinds of combinations of the three of them. Then they were waiting for the other Marvel stars that were invited to the convention for group shots

As the four of them stood around behind the photo booth, Anna showed Chris his scheduled appointments on her printouts. “Since those two overlap, I will ask Amber to take Anthony and Sebastian and I will go with you”, she told him. She tried to make it sound casual and perfectly normal to put someone else in charge of Sebastian, and Anthony for that matter.

“Look at that poor woman, you’re boring her”, Anthony said to Chris as Anna unsuccessfully tried to hide her yawn. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night”, she apologized and avoided to look at Sebastian as she talked. “Oh no, what happened?”, Sebastian asked with an innocent voice. “I had a problem with a little creature keeping me up all night”, Anna said. She as well could play this game.

“Was it a spider? I hate spiders”, Chris said and pulled a face. “Well, I don’t think it was that little if it kept you up all night”, Sebastian countered, looking at her with a cheeky grin and a smug look on his face. “I don’t think they’re talking about spiders, Chris”, Anthony said and started to follow the verbal exchange with growing interest.

“Small enough to be annoying”, she replied and leaned her head to her side, narrowing her eyes that said bring-it-on. “It looks like it still wrecked you up pretty hard”, Sebastian shot back with his arms crossed in front of his chest, still grinning like he was sure that he would win this.

Sebastian and Anna didn’t even realize that Chris and Anthony had stopped talking and were listening closely to their back-and-forth. “It sounds like the two have history…more than just a flight. So wherever they’re going, I’m going”, Anthony said with his hands resting on his hips and a big smile spread across his face.

“We don’t have history”, Anna said determined as she got ripped out of Sebatians stare by Anthonys words. “Well…kinda”, Sebastian said with a devilish grin, his head leaned to the right. “No”, Anna denied it again and shot him an angry look. She looked back down at her clipboard to distract herself. “Oh, I’m definitely going with them”, Anthony said and was grinning like a child on Christmas.

“We’re here, we’re here”, Susan arrived behind the curtain. Behind her Hayley Atwell, Dominic Cooper and Stanley Tucci. “Thank god”, came out louder than Anna had intended. “Okay, we’re not that late”, Susan said with furrowed brows and playfully put her hands up in defense. “No, no…forget it”, Anna said and walked up to her. “I’m…just happy to see you again”, she quickly said.

“How’s it going so far?”, Susan asked her with a lower tone while their guests started to greet each other and get into conversation. “It’s good, we seem to be on time so far, but you know…”, Anna shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, it’ll be just fine. I really gotta say, you got a fine group of men to look after”, Susan said and wiggled her eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t notice”, Anna said and looked down to hide her blushing face. “Are you blind?”, Susan asked with a big laugh which caused a few people around them to look at the two women, including Sebastian. He shot her a questioning look but she ignored it.

“That brown-haired one is really cute”, Susan said and nodded towards Sebastian. “Who? Sebastian?”, Anna asked and blushed again. “Sebastian…a cute name. I like saying his name…Sebastian”, Susan said in a saucy tone. It’s even better when you scream it, shot through Annas mind and she quickly shook her head to get rid of that inappropriate and certainly not helpful comment by her subconscious.

“Does the word ‘professional’ mean anything to you?”, Anna asked her with a pulled up eyebrow. “Oh, I’m just joking, Anna. You know I’m married”, she said laughing and held her left hand up. “Happily?”, Anna asked, also starting to giggle. “I wouldn’t go that far”, Susan said and the next second both of them had to laugh out loud.

“Hey, hey, ladies having fun and I’m not even close by, how is that possible?”, Anthony Mackie came over to the two. “Aren’t you cute”, Susan said. “Well, I try. You’re not too bad yourself”, Anthony winked at her and gave her his best flirting look. “Ooh, I like that one”, Susan said to Anna. “I like you too, darling”, he said and playfully hugged her. The scene was so weird and funny at the same time that Anna didn’t know what to do expect to laugh.

The photographer interrupted the scene when he called for Anthony and the others for the big group pictures.

All in all, the photo-ops of Annas clients took over 3 hours and she was exhausted just from watching them smile and pose all the time. She released everyone for a late and quick lunch break and told them they would meet back at their dressing room in about 30 minutes.

Anna would use this break to change her clothes. She had to admit she felt uncomfortable being so overdressed, she felt like an outsider since this was already her first comic-themed convention. But first she would need another cup of coffee. The lack of sleep was more and more undeniable but she had to have a clear head to keep control of herself around Sebastian. Seeing him with his fans and his friends and how lovely he was with all of them definitely didn’t make him more appalling.

Anna went over to the catering area that was for the guests and employees only, right next to the employees’ area with all the offices. She just wanted to quickly grab a cup of coffee and head back to Susans office, where her suitcase was, to change her outfit.

In the catering area, they had built a little coffee lounge with a bar and places to sit. She had to wait in line a few minutes before she could place her order. While she waited, out of the corner of her eye, she saw that someone was leaning against the bar. Close enough to make her suspicious but leaving enough space to not draw attention to them. This could only mean one thing.

“What do you want?”, she asked with an annoyed voice, still looking for the barista and mentally begging her to hurry up. She just wanted a few minutes alone, time away from him to gather her thoughts and get back into her normal professional work-self, but it seemed that that would be too much to ask. “Hey beautiful”, Sebastian said with a smirk. “I just wanted to say that I’m really happy to have you as my hostess”, he said and he sounded so sincere that she couldn’t help but look at him, just to check if his facial expression would match his tone. “Oh, thank you, that’s very kind of you”, she said and for a second felt like she was doing him wrong all along.

“If you’ve never been to an event like this, there’s so much we could do…or I could do to you”, he said and during the last part, he spoke with a lower and lusty tone, one eye brow raised. There it was again. Just when she thought they could have a normal, work-related conversation, he pulled out his sex voice. And if someone knew what that sounded like then it was Anna.

“I don’t think there’s much left you didn’t do to me”, she said with a low voice, just so no one would hear them. He looked at her with a playful grin before he leaned over to her ear and whispered, “I didn’t do you from behind…yet”. He then pushed himself off the bar and just walked away. Anna was left with a surprised face. “Your coffee, Miss”, the barista said and ripped Anna out of her shocked state.

“Thank you”, she mumbled, grabbed the cup and with quick steps, walked towards the office area. She shook her head in disbelief of what she had just heard and didn’t watch where she was going. The next moment, a young, short woman with short black hair ran into her and pushed the arm Anna was holding her cup of coffee with towards Annas body. The lit of the cup sprung open and the coffee went all over her dress and shoes. “JESUS CHRIST!”, slipped out of Annas mouth as she felt the liquid drain her dress. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry”, the woman said with big eyes and a shocked expression on her face. Anna shook her arms to get some coffee off her.

“It’s…alright, I was about to go change anyways”, she said looking down on the mess this woman had made. “I’m so sorry, I will pay for dry cleaning”, she said and looked like she was about to cry. “Really, it’s okay, don’t worry about it”, Anna reassured her with her arms stretched out to keep her from coming closer and to calm her down. “It’s alright”, she said and patted her shoulder as she walked away with quick steps and threw the now half empty cup into the next trash can.

“Jesus Christ”, she mumbled with an annoyed huff as she felt the wet dress sticking to her body as she walked. She was glad she was alone in that corridor so she wouldn’t get anymore weird looks than she already did out in the catering area.

Anna reached Susans office and stepped in. Her suitcase was in the back corner and she should have a black blouse somewhere in there she could wear and not look so pretentious with her dress and heels like Melvin pointed out. Just as she wanted to bend down to open her suitcase, she heard the door open and close again. Susan must have seen what had happened out there and wanted to check if she needed anything.

“Hey, I’m alright, I’ll be ready in just a…”, Annas words got stuck in her throat when she saw who was standing in front of the closed door. “Thought you might needed some help unzipping that dress”, Sebastian said with a devilish grin and crossed arms in front of his chest.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, she asked surprised and angry at the same time. “I wanted to see if you’re okay”, he said in a normal voice. “It’s coffee, not the end of the world”, she bluffed at him. “I wanted to change my clothes anyway”, she added in a calmer voice, realizing how paranoid and crazy she sounded. Maybe he really just wanted to check on her.

“Then let me help you with that zipper”, he said with a low voice, licking his lips. Or not, she thought to herself.

“You need to leave, this is the staff area, you’re not supposed to be back here”, she told him. Anna walked up to him to guide him out of the door, but with a quick movement he spun her around and pinned her against the door, her facing towards it. He quickly locked it and put his hand up on either side of her head, caging her in her position.

Anna didn’t dare to say something; the sexual tension in the room could be cut with a knife. She felt how Sebastian slightly pressed himself against her, which caused her to close her eyes for a second to calm her breathing, but it didn’t work. Having him that close again triggered something in her that made her want him more than ever. Thoughts about last night spun around in her head, almost making her moan out lout.

She supported herself with her hands pressed onto the door in front of her. For some reason she didn’t dare to turn around.

Sebastian started to slowly unzip her dress in the back all the way down and peeled if off her shoulders. Anna automatically slipped her arms out of the sleeves, so he pulled it down to her waist.

“Did I tell you that I like your hair better when it’s open…more to hold on to”, he whispered behind her and pulled her hair out of the bun and the hair-tie down. Her long brown hair fell down over her bare back and Anna inhaled loudly. “It came up”, she said with a shaky voice and swallowed hard, remembering how he had let down her hair last night in her hotel room. She hated herself that he made her feel that way…again.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”, he whispered next to her ear, pressing himself against her back. She swallowed hard. “Yes”, she breathed out. “Tell me where you want it?”, he asked. She took a deep breath. “Everywhere”, she whispered and moaned out loud as he pulled her head back at her hair with a tight grip until it dropped onto his shoulder. He then started kissing her shoulder up her neck, licking and biting her skin. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth not to make any sound.

His 3 day scruff scratched her skin lightly and gave her goose-bumps all over her body. She intuitively stuck her ass out and met with Sebastians pelvis. Through the fabric of her dress she could feel that this situation also left some marks on him and that mark was poking her right butt cheek.

“I want you”, she moaned out, not able to control what came out of her mouth. Instead of a witty response, he let his right hand slide from her side over to her stomach and down to where the dress was resting on her hips. He stopped only for a second before he let his hand slide under the fabric of her dress down to the waistband of her panties.

Anna pressed herself further against Sebastian to give him easier access. His fingers slid into her panties and he sighed at her neck as he felt how wet she was. “I can feel how much you want me”, he moaned against her skin. Anna instinctively started to grind against his fingers in her pants.

“Sadly, we have to postpone this. We’re still at work, honey”, he whispered at her shoulder and with a sudden movement, pulled his fingers all the way back. Just as Anna wanted to protest, he bit down on her shoulder and left a bright red mark.

“Now we both have a bite-mark on our shoulders”, he said to her with a wink and the next second was out of the office. Anna was standing there, panting heavily and rubbed over the bitten flesh on her shoulder. She thought back to last night when she had bitten his shoulder when she was coming for the third time that night. She hadn’t even noticed that she had left a mark on him but somehow it made her smile. It was kind of arousing to know that he had something that reminded him of their night together.

After a quick look at the clock on the wall, Anna realized that the lunch break was almost over. This little intermezzo had lasted longer that she had thought. She had no time to think any further about it and quickly changed her coffee drained dress and shoes to her pair of jeans and a black blouse that was maybe showing a bit too much cleavage, but she didn’t have anything else. She also changed to her pair of sneakers because she couldn’t walk another feet on heels.

#sebastian stan #the universe can be a bitch #part 1 #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfiction #smut #imagine #fanficiton #sebastian stan x ofc

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redhoodedwolf · 5 years ago

Text

A Week-ish of Sterek Fics

Hello all! So I recently accidentally fell back into my AO3 bookmarks and have fallen down a rabbit (fox? eh?) hole that leaves me entirely unproductive and sleep deprived but full of feels, so I thought I’d share all of the fics that I’ve rerereread thus far in the last week (it’s over 75 guys) (since friday 😬). Each has the fic name and description, length, and year pub/finished because it makes me feel old. Also all of these are complete because I am weak and cannot handle WIPs.

Note: I’m not adding any tags to the descriptions, so make sure to read the tags and ratings on each fic first before reading!!!

Teaching Derek How to Text (and Other Shenanigans) by neilwrites | 9K | 2018

yo derek Who’s dying

---

I see your 'Derek doesn't have a phone' line and raise you 'Derek has a phone, he and Stiles text all the fucking time.'

The Hoodie by ladiekatie | 1.7K | 2017

“You shouldn’t be able to see me. What are you?” The guy in the hoodie says, the ball of energy grows hotter under Derek’s chin.

or the one where Derek is just trying to talk to the guy at the back of the subway.

Nothing You Could Say by SylvieW | 13K | 2016

Stiles’ second year of college is not working out as he planned. He rarely sees Scott, his job is exhausting, and to get home after his shift, he has to walk at three in the morning. Nearly getting mugged is the icing on the cake, but luckily a gruff stranger is there to rescue him. But now Stiles can’t seem to shake the feeling that he’s not alone in the dark.

Old Traditions, Werewolf Edition by Footloose | 3.6K | 2014

Stiles does not work his Omega ass off to attract frat boy Alphas. Absolutely not. He's at college to get his degree. If he's crushing on an Alpha who never crosses the lines of propriety, well, no one needs to know, right?

Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriend Extraordinaire by MereLoup | 14K | 2016

“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.”

“Oh thank god!”

“Stiles?”

“I, uh, I need some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?”

Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.”

“Stiles...what are you doing right now?”

***

Stiles never imagined he’d be in Derek’s kitchen cooking a surprise dinner with Derek’s family while they waited for Derek to get home from work.

Partly because their visit was a complete surprise.

But mostly because Stiles didn’t have a boyfriend.

Or even know who Derek was.

But he’d already come this far and Papa didn’t raise no quitter!

third time's the charm by stilinski | 4.9K | 2016

Sure, Stiles has a mark on his chest that belies the depth of his feelings, but it's not something anyone can see unless he decides to show it, or unless werewolves suddenly have x-ray vision.

Which—worrying. And probably-definitely-likely a possibility – if it was to manifest anywhere, Beacon Hills would be top of the list.

Stiles almost turns around there and then to ask Scott how his visual acuity is but is stopped by the teenager at the register finally looking up long enough to spot Derek. Stiles watches her mouth fall open and her expression—studiously blank but with a faint flush rising in her cheeks—is one Stiles knows far too well, particularly when faced with Derek in all his snug-fitting-jeans, v-neck-wearing, canvas-jacketed glory.

Stiles is pretty sure he invented that expression.

Ukochany by VincentMeoblinn| 34K | 2016

Derek comes home to find a mail order husband and two amused betas waiting for him. When he realizes their prank was far from harmless he ends up saddled with a husband who barely speaks English but insists Derek is the love of his life. He's also determined to win him over.

only if for a night by stilinskisparkles | 3.2K | 2016

“I’m Stiles,” he says breathlessly.

“Derek.”

“Derek, hi, do you—”

Derek doesn’t let him finish, kisses the words right out of his mouth.

Hypothetically by alisvolatpropiis | 6.6K | 2015

Stiles holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sinking sun, its orange-yellow light reflected infinitely across the vast, calm ocean. As utterly stunning as the sunset over the Pacific is, especially while floating leisurely on a surfboard a few hundred feet from shore, it’s a mere backdrop that pales in comparison to who he’s looking at.

Derek Hale, whose eyes are their own oceans that Stiles feels like he’s been floating on since the first time they met. The older man’s eyes are as ever-changing and colorful as the sea they’ve spent the day on, a palette of greens and blues filigreed with gold around the pupils. And if that weren’t enough, the rest of Derek is also transcendentally exquisite: high, arching cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, although that particular perfection is a bit obscured these days by his ever-thickening beard, night-black like his hair, nearly shoulder-length but almost always knotted in a messy bun at the crown of his head.

sincerely, derek by stilinskisparkles | 8.1K | 2016

September, 2009

Hi Stiles, it’s Derek. Derek Hale, from space camp. I’m writing this in English because my teacher Ms Grady said I had to write about my summer, but I spent my summer with you, so I decided to write to you, instead.

Please write back. Love from Derek.

Pancakes and Murder by Amethyst Shard (AmethystShard) | 14K | 2012

Stiles' life has been a roller-coaster filled with awesome highs and terrifying drops ever since his best friend Scott got bit by a werewolf. The ride hits a bump when a dead body turns up at the Hale house (again) and Derek's only alibi is Stiles. Which would be fine, except that Stiles' dad is the sheriff and has no idea his son has been hanging out with the former fugitive. Awkward.

The Witching Hour by MellytheHun | 8.2K | 2016

The radio host AU no one ever asked for but I have written anyway because sometimes when DJ’s play several sad songs in a row, I worry about their mental health and then this AU was born

Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs (Series) by MellytheHun | 11K | 4 Works | 2016

This series started with this Tumblr prompt, "it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

Stiles is walking home when he's stalked by a dangerous stranger and an even more dangerous stranger comes to his rescue.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill | 32K | 2013

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

You are the Moon by skoosiepants | 10K | 2012

Stuff Stiles doesn’t like to deal with first thing: hot, moist dog breath in his face, a cuddly werewolf creepifying his perfectly normal morning wood with shades of bestiality, and his dad holding his service revolver up against the skull of his bedmate, never mind the fact that his bedmate could possibly be a vicious unhinged rogue omega.

Baby, you should stick around by ElisAttack | 9.5K | 2016

Derek's driving along a stretch of highway when an unusual sight makes him slow down, the engine of his old pickup rattling in protest.

There's a kid standing by the side of the road.

It's the middle of nowhere, the goddamn apocalypse, and this kid is standing by the side of the road with his thumb pointed skyward. Like he's playing at being a hitchhiker.

Or the one where Stiles thinks he's all alone in a post-apocalyptic world, until he meets Derek.

Don’t Be Anything But Okay by skoosiepants | 4.8K | 2016

“Oh my god.”

Ben pops open the car door and says, “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad.”

Stiles flaps a hand, still staring at the magnificent sight before him. There are glistening arm muscles and a sweaty tank top and then the vision bends over and holy god. He has to look away; it’s too much to take in all at once, he might swoon.

OR-

Stiles has a teenager and Derek has a plant nursery.

covalent bonds (Series) by HalfFizzbin | 9.2K | 3 Works | 2015

Derek's a hot nerd. Stiles is a nerdy jock. A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES.

Disappear Here by AgnesBlue | 28K | 2016

Stiles was quiet. “What?” Derek said again. “My first heat is coming up soon,” Stiles said at last. Derek closed his eyes, disinterested. He knew where Stiles was going with this. “I was thinking…hoping, really,” Stiles said. “Maybe you could stay with me during that time.”

AU in which wounded in a fire that killed off his entire family, Derek wants nothing more than to be left alone as he finishes off his senior year in high school. That all changes when omega Stiles Stilinski asks him to help him through his first heat.

Money Isn't Everything by TroubleIWant | 6.3K | 2015

Stiles slurps at the dregs of his iced hazelnut latté, pretending he doesn’t need a refill just yet. Supporting your local business is great and all, but Isaac charging $5 for a coffee with syrup is highway robbery. He’s already cut his expenses down to the bare minimum, and splurging for foofy drinks is not in the budget. Except that he can’t really help himself: black coffee is plain gross. Maybe I should plan on marrying rich, he thinks darkly.

Or,

Stiles has a huge crush on the super-hot guy he always sees at Isaac's coffee shop, but when he finds out that they guy's an unemployed orphan he has to decide if the difference in their financial situations is a deal-breaker, or just a bump on the path to true love.

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock | 21K | 2014

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

you and me (and my best friend) by trilliastra | 1.5K | 2016

“Come on, I shouldn’t be the only one having orgasms. Let me help you out.”

“Uh –” someone clears their throat and Derek jumps, startled, hits his elbow on the wall and curses, “am I interrupting something?” Stiles asks, cheeks red.

Derek looks up, sighing. Of all the people working in this damn school, Stiles had to be the one to catch him and Erica talking about sex. It’s just Derek’s luck. He spills juice on his pants? Stiles walks into the classroom; Laura starts yelling at him about something that happened when they were kids? Stiles is right behind them, waiting for his coffee; Boyd accidentally throws a ball at his face? Stiles is at the E.R. when Derek gets there with a swollen face and a broken nose.

The universe hates him.

Easy Alpha by interropunct | 4.6K | 2012

Easy A/Teen Wolf AU. Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

Body Language by LadyMerlin | 2.3K | 2016

In an alternate universe, soulmates exist, and they can communicate with each other by writing on their own skin.

The catch? No one knows their soulmates' name. It could literally be anyone under the sun, and Stiles just doesn't have that kind of patience.

chantes une nouvelle chanson pour moi by pr1nc3ssp34ch (dallisons) | 13K | 2013

Stiles Stilinski has been at Hogwarts since his first year, okay. That's six years of experience. He knows how Hogwarts works, how it operates. He's not quite an expert or anything, but he's pretty damn sure he knows this school.

So why the hell have they waited like a million years to start taking transfer students?

And why is he the only one who can't get a French date?

C’était Salement Romantique by Swing Set in December (swing_set13) | 2.2K | 2015

The Triwizard tournament is really about fostering wizarding relations. Ask anyone. Just not Stiles, he’s busy French kissing Derek.

Hogwarts really should teach some linguistic classes.

The Long Way Home by MyChemicalRachel | 19K | 2016

Stiles didn’t plan to sleep with his best friend’s dad. It just kind of happened. And then it happened again. And again. And again…

All that once was, remains. by countrygirlsfun | 8.8K | 2016

Life is only a long list of constants.

Being a part of a royal family, being a prince, has been a constant in Derek Hale’s life since he was born and swaddled in silk cloths.

Wherein Derek finds himself in love with a stable boy who is more than he seems.

Driver's Education by arrowofcarnations | 9.2K | 2014

This is the moment he realizes he can never have Derek Hale – that he was stupid to ever think he could. Maybe their moms made them hang out when they were little and maybe they’ve managed to get along these past few weeks, but they’re too different. Derek’s cool, he plays a million sports, he drives a Camaro, he’s friends with Jackson. Stiles doesn’t fit into the equation and he never will.

Letters by ericaismeg | 8.9K | 2014

“Stiles, this is getting ridiculous. Can you please do something about it?” Lydia demands. “Do anything. I don’t care. Go up and kiss him, ask him to prom this year, write him secret admirer love letters, whatever. Just do something.”

***

OR: The one where Lydia sets up an email account for Stiles to "confess his love" for Derek. And as fate would have it, they also end up becoming friends in person at the same time.

We're One of a Kind (Like Dip Da Dip Da Dip Do Whap De Dobby Do) by orphan_account | 3.5K | 2012

Derek is your classic greaser—with a leather jacket, a hot rod, a hot bike, and a duck butt. Genim “Stiles” Stilinski a total fream—he’s too cool to be a poindexter but he’s so far from a cat that Derek almost feels bad for him. All that’s missing in this love story is some oddly perfectly timed musical numbers.

do it for our country by HalfFizzbin | 936 | 2012

In which Derek tries to play it cool but Stiles is totally hep to his jive.

Fast Times At Clairemont High by MonsieurBlueSky (MyChemicalRachel) | 6.9K | 2016

Stiles is stoked when he's chosen for an undercover operation to take down a drug ring. He's less stoked when he discovers that he'll be posing as a seventeen year old student at the High School where Derek teaches.

It's Too Early For This by thepsychicclam | 4.9K | 2016

Derek loves his job at the coffee shop, especially because Stiles comes in for coffee before early Saturday morning lacrosse practices. The problem is that Derek is too shy to do anything about his crush, and the situation is not helped by the rivalry between the basketball and lacrosse teams.

A Tentative Truce by Inell | 8.5K | 2016

Stiles and Derek have a long standing rivalry that has extended beyond the Beacon Hills High School theater department to every other area of their high school lives. With the announcement of the winter production, their competitiveness has to be set to the side so the musical can be successful. With a tentative truce in place, Stiles unable to ignore his growing infatuation for his co-star.

we keep living anyway by bistiles (alis) | 10K | 2015

“Oh, damn, my manners. What an example I’m setting, am I right? I’m Stiles Stilinski, but call me Stiles, please,” Stilinski extended his hand for Derek to shake, and Derek took it, feeling the solid grip and the long fingers around his own hand. For some reason, he blushed on the spot.

“Derek. Derek Hale. Call me just Derek,” He answered, still holding Stiles’ hand in his.

By the look on Stiles’ face, he felt much the same as what Derek was feeling, whatever that unnamed reaction was.

“And this little barnacle attached to me,” Stiles continued, letting go of Derek and flushing pink, “is Leigh.”

Stiles is struggling to raise his only child all alone, while dealing with financial problems, a new job, and Adrian Harris, the worst boss in the world.

But then he meets Derek Hale, a dreamy co-workers, and what is a terrible situation becomes considerably less grim, when he has Derek by his side.

Don't Judge a Derek By His Cover by captaintinymite (augopher) | 4.5K | 2015

Stiles doesn't care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School's resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one's judgment.

However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).

But you know what they say...never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.

sometimes fate is like a small snowstorm by thepsychicclam | 8.1K | 2014

In a coffee shop two days before Christmas, Derek meets Stiles. Despite neither of them being interested in relationships, they spend an unforgettable evening together, but then part ways. During the following years, Stiles competes in the Olympics, Derek tours the world - and neither of them forget. Then twelve years later, two days before Christmas, Derek finds Stiles in that same coffee shop.

aka a kinda sorta serendipity au

should the pillars of memory topple out of my reach by bleep0bleep | 4.3K | 2015

If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say that look in Derek's eyes is adoring, but he does know better, and also amnesiac Derek thinks they’re married. Which is the only fact he hasn’t questioned so far, which is the weirdest thing.

Just High School by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 4.5K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been dating for some time.

The only thing is, nobody else really knows.

Tis The Season Baristas Fear The Most by stilinskisparkles | 5.4K | 2012

Scott is hands down the worst barista Derek has ever hired. But it's Christmas and apparently that means something to some people.

Mind Reading Can Be Such a Pain in the A** (Series) by Fanhag102 | 21K | 2 Works | 2015

Derek Hale can read minds. If he could have chosen a mutant power for himself instead of being given one by random, genetic happenstance it's safe to say mind-reading would not have been his 1st, 2nd, or even 96th choice.

Maybe if he'd gotten the power of invisibility he wouldn't be sitting in a senior Economics class next to a hyperactive kid with a buzz cut who won’t stop thinking about dicks.

A Criminal and His Lucky Charm by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 5.9K | 2015

Please forgive yourself.

For what?

For allowing yourself to let someone in. For letting me love you. I didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t your fault. Derek, please, just do it. Please— please don’t drag this out.

Derek Hale valued Stiles above everyone—everything. And Stiles betrayed that. In the end, he figured if he had to die, dying in Derek’s arms wasn’t so bad. He could at least have that.

the things you said when we were the happiest we’ve ever been by foxerica (ericaismeg) | 4.8K | 2015

Derek and Stiles meet again at their high school reunion.

From Dirty Paws by Surreal | 9.9K | 2014

Stiles finds a wolf in the woods. Well, it's more like the wolf finds him. Either way, he's happy to have a new friend in his otherwise boring social circle.

flawless by bibliosexual | 4.9K | 2015

“I know you and I are, like, werewolf-married, but dude, if I ever met Lydia Martin in person . . . All bets are off, is all I'm saying."

It's not like Stiles really means it (does he?), but it still makes Derek’s hands clench into claws on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if," he says, and keeps his eyes on the road.

Those Hidden Places by Mimiminaj | 18K | 2015

He doesn’t belong here.

It’s the first thought that crosses Derek’s mind as he watches the new inmates spill into the cafeteria. The kid stays close to the wall, eyes scanning all the exits and skimming over the tables. If he’s trying to get a barring for his surroundings he’s doing a shit job of it, something made completely evident as Lewis shoulders him from behind and the kid almost jumps to flatten himself against the wall.

Stiles is the new inmate at Derek's prison. He really didn't expect to fall in love with the mouthy little brat.

Baseball Pants by thatfamoushappyending (betsytheoven) | 2.8K | 2015

Scott shows Stiles a picture of the new pitcher for the Dodgers, and Stiles is suddenly an avid Dodgers fan.

While You Were(n't Quite) Sleeping by mikkimouse | 13K | 2015

Scott’s mom, Melissa, had given Stiles the basics on Derek’s condition when he’d first come over here a month ago. Derek had been here six years, the only survivor of a horrific house fire that had killed the rest of his family. It had left him burned, half his face puckered with scars, and he’d been in a catatonic state the entire time. Stiles couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful that would be, being trapped in your own body for years on end, all alone.

Stiles had an inkling of how much being alone sucked, anyway.

(An AU in which Derek is the one who was trapped in the fire, and then in the hospital, based on a set of pictures from littlecofiegirl.)

dhale25 by ericaismeg | 8.1K | 2014

Derek Hale is an actor in Los Angeles, Stiles is a fanboy in Toronto. When Derek posts his Snap Chat username on Twitter, inviting people to add him, Stiles gets brave and adds him.

They develop a snapping relationship, and it gets intense.

I Settle for Long Distance Calls by iamursforevrmre | 4.3K | 2014

Derek is the guy who Stiles met on some random band page on MySpace because Derek made a ridiculously hilarious comment and with a spurt of confidence, Stiles had messaged him to tell him just how hilarious it was and they got to talking. Derek is the guy that made a FaceBook account just to talk to Stiles on the messenger so they could talk more when MySpace was slowly dying out. Derek is the guy that changed his text message plan to unlimited when he finally sent Stiles his cell phone number. Derek is the guy that has been on the phone with Stiles at any and all hours through the day.

And Derek is the guy that Stiles is in love with.

You look like my next mistake by Vendelin | 15K | 2015

“So, are you dating someone new? Someone who doesn’t mind that you’re frigid?” Kate cocks her head to the side, smiling as though she just asked him about where he bought his shoes.

His entire body sighs in defeat as his shoulders grow square. Just as he opens his mouth, someone comes up to stand beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders. When he glances to his side, expecting to see Isaac, his brain seems to malfunction. Because it isn’t Isaac. It’s Stiles Stilinski, the lacrosse talent of the year, a senior who Derek has seen multiple times from far away, but never ever talked to.

In which Derek is a nerd jock, and Stiles is a frat guy, and Derek falls for him even though he knows he shouldn't.

Coaches Cupcake Coffee House by ChildOfTheRevolution | 4.8K | 2013

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy, ‘It means he wants to ride the dick Stiles.’ He said slowly, as if talking to the mentally insane.

‘Ride the dick, my dick?’ Stiles asked weakly.

‘Figuratively speaking of course, Derek looks more like a topper to me. And you, my friend, are a twink of the most twinkiest standards, but I’m not one to judge.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Stiles admitted, finding himself in a weird crouch-like stance that he apparently now adopts when he’s overwhelmed about finding out Derek Hotcakes wants to bone him three ways to Sunday.

Gladiator AU ( Series) by HaleHole (SweetFanfics) | 9.9K | 2 Works | 2013

He looks up at the door and waits. He hopes that whoever it is, they will be go easy on him. Werewolf he might be, with superhuman healing, but that does not mean that he will not be sore the next day. And he is scheduled for a fight.

Let it be someone easy to please, Derek hopes. Someone who will be quick to take their pleasure and even quicker to leave. He keeps hoping this as the door is pushed open. A voice murmurs a quick set of instructions to whoever has hired him for this session. It is cut off half way through by a familiar, impatient voice that makes Derek strain against his bonds. -- Rome based, Gladiator AU

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain | 35K | 2013

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding:

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Theory of Overprotective Canines by rosepetals42 | 11K | 2015

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Hot for Teacher('s Aide) by linksofmemories_archive | 8K | 2013

“He invited you to his apartment.”

“To do a lesson plan.”

“Yeah and to probably lesson your plan while you’re there,” Scott said, waggling his eyebrows.

“That made no sense, but you still managed to make it sound dirty,” Stiles said. “I’m impressed.”

The healing touch by devilscut | 96K | 2015

Stiles loses his temper with the rest of the pack when they all make excuses not to volunteer to help their Alpha. Deaton has instructed that for the next 24 hours Derek can't use his hands after he seriously injures them in a magical entrapment. Seeing the emotional hurt that Derek's selfish pack has inflicted on him when they argue and try to get out of it, Stiles volunteers to stay and then proceeds to give the rest of them a verbal ass-kicking. He then takes care of his friend, the Alpha, Derek Hale, while trying to work out what his feelings are towards the werewolf.

Quit Dragon Me Around (Seies) by WonderWolf | 17K | 3 Works | 2015

Stiles makes the mistake of taking Derek’s sword and now the grumpy werewolf seems determined to stop him from stealing and landing himself in jail.

Stiles is not pleased. He’s also starving.

(Or the one in which Derek has good intentions, but little understanding of how Dragon biology works. He just wants the cute mole-speckled kid to be safe). -----

“Five meals, Scott. Derek Hale has stopped me from eating five meals. I can’t believe he’s really trying to kill me over stealing his sword. That’s so petty of him. It isn’t like I meant to steal it,” Stiles complains.

“You kind of did mean to, dude,” Scott adds unhelpfully.

“But you don’t understand, Scott. It-”

“Just smelled so good? I know, you’ve said that like fifty times over the past two weeks,” Scott says.

“This is the equivalent of him stealing my lunch money, right? Thanks to him, I didn’t have a meal this week. Or last week! He’s a bully, is what he is. A nice smelling, douchebag of a bully.”

You'll See Me Again by matildajones | 10K | 2015

Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn't seem to care that Derek's a prince or that he's a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it's not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.

Thousand by ericaismeg | 4.2K | 2014

“Seriously, Erica, I could tell him a thousand times in a thousand ways and he's never going to understand what I mean.”

“I thought I told you to spell it out to him,” Erica says. “Derek's has trust issues. I told you this would be difficult.”

Stop Crossing Oceans by greenleaf | 11K | 2015

“There are no absolutes, Scott! No hard rights or hard wrongs! The world doesn’t fucking work that way and we can’t afford to think like that, because people are going to die! We signed up for that the moment we got involved with all this!”

“We? We?” Scott hisses. “Don’t you think you? Don’t forget that you’re the one who dragged us into that forest the night it all started, Stiles. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

Something inside Stiles cracks, so strong and so deep that he practically hears it.

The Wolf that whispered into Stiles' Heart by ElStark | 9.9K | 2015

Basically the Union of the prompts:

Mute!Stiles + Wolf!Derek + Soulmates/Mates AU

“Don’t you have a pack?” Stiles asks him –by then he had discovered that the wolf was in fact a male wolf –“I mean, wolves move in packs, right? Lone wolves don’t make it on their own. I read it yesterday.” He says while they’re both sprawled on the fallen leaves in Stiles’ secret-thinking spot in the woods. Derek licks his face, and Stiles laughs. “Is that your way to tell me that I’m your pack?” Derek licks him again on the nose, making the boy’s face scrunch up, “Ugh. Gross, dude!” he wipes his drool covered face with his sleeve and then gives the wolf a pointed look, “I’m not a wolf, you should have noticed, you know, I don’t exactly have fur and I don’t growl and I don’t have glowing eyes…” He says leaning in to look them closer, “Are you even supposed to have those kind of eyes? I couldn’t find anything about wolves and glowing eyes on the internet..” The wolf snorts.

Aftermath by GhostwithShotgun | 11K | 2015

Stiles suffers from PTSD and insomnia after the events with the nogitsune. He has nightmares, gets at most one hour of sleep every night and has daily panic attacks. He tries his best to hide it because they all have their own troubles and he doesn't want to burden his friends further.

Meanwhile, Derek has made a habit out of checking all pack members every night to make sure they're alright.

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit | 18K | 2015

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

It's a Schlong Story by floatingstark | 33K | 2015

"Do you like him?"

"Of course I do, he’s great!"

"Then what is the fucking problem?"

"My dick!"

-or-

Ex-Porn Star Derek Hale has a lot of issues but Ice Cream Parlor Owner Stiles Stilinski is not one of them.

Bad Dog Bakery and Café by Boom | 27K | 2015

Stiles saves an Omega from wolfsbane poisoning. Said Omega now won't leave Stiles alone. Stiles doesn't really have a problem with this.

Beat The Blues by lilpeas | 2.9K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been childhood friends since the sandpit. When Talia realises Stiles is in love with Derek, she knows Derek has to stop seeing him: Derek’s a werewolf and Stiles is human. It can’t be.

But things never go according to plan.

Red Light's Already Off by orphan_account | 3.3K | 2015

Stiles isn't a hooker. He just plays one on TV.

Noteworthy Observations by LadyDrace | 3.7K | 2015

In which Derek recieves complimentary notes in his locker from a secret admirer, and though it turns out they weren't actually for him, things turn out pretty well in the end.

One Hale of a Sandwich by whatthehale | 10K | 2014

Stiles in bed isn’t really something Derek should be thinking about.

Ever.

Because the person who normally picks Lily up from school? Is Scott.

Lily’s other parent. And Stiles’s partner.

Not to mention the entire source of Derek’s current misery.

AKA, the one in which Derek thinks Scott and Stiles are in a relationship and that they want to threesome with Derek. Spoiler Alert? They aren't and they don't.

Choice by Omni | 8.6K | 2015

Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it's like to be manipulated. He'd never take away someone's right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings.

Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can't.

(Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | 13K | 2012

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

gave your smile to me by Sarageek16 | 4.7K | 2013

In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #fic rec list

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acourtofshadowsongs · 4 years ago

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A Court of Hushed Shadowsongs

Story Summary: A few weeks after the ending of A Court of Silver Flames, the Night Court's newest warriors find themselves amongst familiar friends as they continue training to excel in their Valkyrie skills. But as a dark future calls to threaten the new sense of safety that Gwyn has found with her new found sisters and friends, she finds herself fighting even harder to become the person that will be able to save her friends- and herself.

Warnings: May have mental health triggers, especially towards self loathing and worthlessness.

Word Count: 1330

Part 1

Gwyn glared at Nesta, the gleam of sweat dripping down her face shining as brightly as her eyes as the girls sat down on the steps. “Remind me why I decided to join you in doing this?” Gwyn asked her as Nesta grabbed at one of the two glasses of water that had appeared their courtesy of her friendship with the House of Wind.

Gwyn had decided a few days ago that she was going to challenge herself in attempting the 10,000 from the House of Wind to Velaris. While she had wanted to get out of the Library for more than just training for a long time now, she still wasn’t ready to face the city yet. Giving herself the opportunity to join Nesta on the stairs would get her acclimated to seeing and hearing the city and decide when, if ever, she would be ready to see others once again. When she had asked Nesta to accompany her after working in the library today, Nesta had seemed shocked and delighted to join Gwyn on her endeavor- even if it meant telling her mate that he would be eating dinner alone that night (and based on how flushed Nesta seemed when she returned to meet Gwyn at the top of the steps, Gwyn figured that there was a promise made about what would be happening later because of it).

Handing her one of the glasses of water, Nesta let out a rasp of a laugh between her breaths, slightly quieter than Gwyn’s own as she had been doing this escapade a lot longer. “To be fair, you’re the one that asked to join- I just gladly accepted the company.” Gwyn gulped down the glass of water, setting it back down on the step as she watched it disappear within the next few seconds. Glancing over at Nesta as she leaned back on the steps she asked, “so you’re telling me we just walked down five hundred steps only to walk back up five hundred steps? Isn’t going up harder?!” Nesta smiled as she set down her own glass and watched it disappear.

“Yes, but to be fair when I started this, feeling the pain of the burn in my legs and lungs was easier than dealing with the pain up here.” Nesta tapped her temple, signifying a feeling that Gwyn knew all too well. Gwyn glanced away to avoid Nesta’s eyes as her own filled with a grief that few understood, looking now to the still far away rooftops of the city of Velaris, gleaming brightly under the moonlight and stars. A steady silence filled with only their labored breathing settled around the two sisters, thought not uncomfortable.

“You’ll get there you know.” Nesta comments quietly after enough time had past for them to catch their breaths. Gwyn swallowed, stifling the nervousness of even broaching the topic of being somewhere that people could see her- judge her- for what she has done, for who she is, for what happened. Sure, everyone said that the City of Starlight was a home for those who had experienced the hard things as she had, but there was something about being under scrutiny of people other than those who knew her that had her standing up and deciding not to answer Nesta, but instead slowly start the climb back up the five hundred steps. After about ten steps, she realized Nesta was still sitting down, looking over Velaris-her home.

“You coming?” Gwyn asked softly, pausing long enough to hear Nesta sigh and respond

“I’m actually going to keep going. It’s been a while since I’ve been out here, I figure I should try to catch up with my old pace.” Gwyn nodded, wishing Nesta a good night as she started the ascent back up to the training ring at the top of the House of Wind.

Five hundred steps later, Gwyn decided that maybe joining Nesta on the steps hadn’t been her greatest idea in the world. Sure, training had become second nature (though her body at times still protested the movements and weapon wielding), but the stamina that she needed to get through the stairs was something that Gwyn wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to have. For cauldron’s sake, she had to be carried like a sack up Ramiel, and didn’t even earn the ability to say that she worked for her new found rank of warrior.

Collapsing at the top of the steps and breathing heavily, Gwyn flipped onto her back as her eyes focused on the specks of starlight above her, faded from the faelight coming off of the house of wind. She took a deep breath in through her nose. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. And released it through her mouth. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Again, a second time. Then a third time, her wandering mind and sporadic heart rate slowing with each Mind Stilling breath that was taken.

Closing her eyes, Gwyn kept breathing. Thoughts within her head quieted as her pointed ears sharpened their hearing to her surroundings instead of the pain of the past experiences and the pain within her legs. A soft wind swirled through the training ring, rattling a few of the posts on the outside of it just enough for the whisper to catch Gwyn’s attention. A spark or two every couple of second from the faelight that was burning above the entrance to the house sounded through the whisper of the wind, a pulsing melody that seemed to beckon Gwyn closer to the beat of the House that Nesta had once tried to explain to her.

Gwyn focused on that music and pulled herself back into her own mind, beginning to assess her pain and her thoughts, acknowledge them, and then imagined herself pulling each twinge of pain, each thought of being lesser than, each moment of not being enough… she imagined herself pulling each of those strands out of herself and out onto the melodic strings of the world that surrounded her. And as she imagined that, she took another breath and allowed her mind to focus itself on whatever it needed to drift to tonight.

Seconds, minutes, maybe even hours had passed before Gwyn’s mind focused on a new sound that had appeared as suddenly as silence that followed the end of a symphony. Deciding to pull herself back in before something disrupted her mind stilling, Gwyn folded her fingers into her hands and then released, grasping the ground underneath her as she marked herself back down into her thoughts and herself. Taking one final breath, Gwyn opened her eyes and found herself staring at darkness. Startled, she tried to figure out if she had fallen asleep while Mind Stilling (as had happened many times before) and if the faelight sparking she had heard earlier had been the light going out. But as she reached out in front of her and the darkness scattered away to show the still shining starlight, she realized as she sat up that shadows had gathered around her.

Gwyn giggled through a gentle breath, scooting up into a kneeling position as the shadows scurried a bit further away and swirled as if watching her. Smiling softly, she gave a slight wave at the shadows before they darted up into the sky, leaving only one small shadow behind as if it were waiting for something.

No, not waiting for something, waiting for someone, Gwyn realized as the sound of wings filled the air around her shortly after the shadows had disappeared. The last remaining shadow moved towards her, curling around one of the lose strands of coppery hair that had fallen out of the braid she had worn to descend the steps in. Gwyn looked down at the shadow before then looking up, just in time to see an Illyrian warrior with blue siphons attached at the backs of his hands land in the training ring across the opening from her.

Part 2 coming soon!

A/N: Hey guys! My name is Jen, and I'm a college student who's a little bit obsessed with Gwyn and Azriel as a pairing right now. I (as a fellow ginger) loved Gwyn's character and her story, and have loved Az since I read ACOMAF in 2016. Honestly, I don't know about you guys, but I just can't sit still waiting for SJM to write another book and release it three years from now without hearing about Gywnriel, so please enjoy my attempt at continuing their story past ACOSF. Of course, I can't just throw Elain outta the plot so she'll be in here too, which means a fair dose of angst amongst our favs. I don't know how long this is going to get- but I hope you'll be here with me to see it through and hold me accountable to the story. Hope you all enjoy!

#acosf #azrielxgywn #gywnriel #acosf spoilers #azriel #gwyn #gwyn berdara #nesta #acourtofsilverflames #acotarfic #acosf fanfiction

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mistletouchunderthetree · 4 years ago

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here’s another WIP eddie month fic! this is over 7k words and contains internalized homophobia including the use of slurs, and addiction to prescription drugs (based entirely on eddie’s addiction in the book). i was going to write an exploration of the issues eddie would’ve had to face had he survived but overall it ended up feeling too dark and i’m just not a dark writer so. on a happier note, stan lives in this au.

They stood in the lobby of the Derry Town House, covered in dirt and water from the quarry and who knows what else. Beverly had gone straight for the bar, pouring each of them a generous glass of whiskey.

The silence was deafening, filling every crevice of the otherwise empty hotel and surrounding the Losers like a heavy blanket. No one knew what to say. Their entire lives had been leading up to this, and now it was done. What comes after the happy ending?

“We need to talk about it,” Beverly said finally, her voice soft but solemn. “We can’t just – I mean…”

“Bev’s right,” Ben said from beside her. She shot him a thankful smile. “I mean, where do we go from here? Back to our lives? The lives where only one of us was even remotely happy?”

Stan almost looked ashamed, as though he should feel guilt for being the only happy one in the group. He still hadn’t told anyone how close he’d come…. How lucky they were that he’d made it here to begin with.

“Are you suggesting a fun little group therapy session?” Richie asked, gulping half his glass in one go, only wincing a little.

“I’m not really the share-my-feelings type,” Eddie frowned. He’d already finished his glass and placed it on the bar, and now stood with his arms crossed over his chest. The bandage on his cheek was no longer stark white; the dirt and water had turned it to a pale brown.

“None of us are,” Ben answered. “That’s the point.”

“You’ve lost me, buddy,” Bill said, then looked astonished that he hadn’t stuttered. “Wait, I’m not….”

“RIP to Stuttering Bill,” Richie said solemnly. Eddie hid a laugh behind his hand. Mike clasped Bill on the shoulder, offering him a sincere smile.

“I think talking is a good idea,” Mike announced.

“No offense, Mike, but you officially are not allowed to have ideas. Particularly ones that involve stealing rituals from other cultures and bullshitting your way through them even though you already know they won’t work. But other ideas, too. All of the ideas. Out of the question.”

Richie raised an eyebrow at Eddie, who seemed unable to stop talking.

“Like, we forgive you and everything, but.” Eddie shrugged.

“What if we shower and then go grab dinner?” Bev suggested. Her face was open, perhaps the most open it had been since they’d arrived in Derry. The others agreed with varying degrees of reluctance, Bev offering her shower to Eddie, and Bill telling Mike he could use the one in his room after he was done.

“You guys coming?”

Eddie startled, realizing everyone but he and Richie were already halfway up the stairs. He glanced awkwardly at Richie, who took the opportunity to raise his glass to his lips and sip very slowly. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I’m waiting on this one to finish his drink,” Eddie told them, ignoring the Looks he received from his friends. He walked around the bar to put his glass into the small sink, just to seem busy.

“Aw, Eds,” Richie grinned, placing his unfinished whiskey on the bar. “You don’t have to wait for me, I’m a big boy.”

Eddie huffed. “I’m not, I’m just fucking nervous about showering.”

“Uh,” Richie said blankly. “Why?”

“I don’t know, Richie,” he began, anger edging into his voice, the way it sometimes did when he felt particularly anxious. “Maybe it’s because the last time I was in a shower I fucking stabbed a guy with a knife I’d just pulled out of my own fucking face!”

Richie’s eyebrows rose. He began to run a finger along the rim of his glass. “Yeah, that makes some sense.”

“You don’t have to stay down here and babysit me,” Eddie said, when Richie seemed like he was just going to stand there and play with his cup. He stuck a hand deep into the pocket of his jeans until his fingers closed around a small cylindrical bottle. He yanked it out, flicked the cap off, and took out two pills. “Go, shower. I’ll make my way up there eventually.”

Richie ignored him. He eyed Eddie, who picked up Richie’s unfinished whiskey to wash down the pills. Once Eddie had placed the now empty glass into the sink next to his own, Richie spoke. “Did you see Mike and Bill?”

“What?”

“Mike and Bill,” he repeated. “They went into Bill’s room together.”

Eddie’s face didn’t change.

“And did you see that little… You know. The forehead thing.”

“Literally what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Mike and Bill are gay for each other.”

Eddie choked, then coughed. Richie waited patiently. “Another gay joke, Rich? It’s fucking 2016, that’s not fucking funny –“

“I’m not joking!” Richie interrupted, holding his hands up in innocence. “There’s absolutely something happening there. The foreheads!”

“Why do you keep saying the word foreheads –“

“You didn’t see? After we killed It, they fucking – they put their foreheads together!”

Eddie opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

“Look, like this,” Richie said, moving around the bar to stand in front of Eddie. He grabbed the back of Eddie’s head and pulled, leaning down so their foreheads would touch. He overshot, and Eddie groaned.

“Was that just an excuse to headbutt me?”

“No, look, theirs wasn’t so violent, but look man,” Richie said, and Eddie looked. Their eyes met, so close together, and he could feel every one of Richie’s fingers in his hair. He looked down, unable to hold the eye contact. Richie let go, took a step back. “See? They did that.”

“They were celebrating,” Eddie said, willing his heart to stop pounding.

“Uh, yeah, celebrating their gay love,” Richie answered in a ‘duh’ tone.

“Isn’t it just love, not gay love?”

“When did you become the gay police?”

Eddie sighed, putting his elbows on the counter and letting his head rest in his hands.

“Besides,” Richie continued. “I have the best gaydar ever. Or, like, bi-dar. Is that a thing? Bill’s bi. Have you seen his wife? She’s fucking hot. I dunno about Mike, though. He could be –“

“Just because a guy’s got a wife doesn’t mean he’s not gay,” Eddie interrupted. Richie immediately stopped speaking. Neither said anything, and Eddie didn’t lift his head from his hands.

Eventually, Richie cleared his throat and said, “Are you trying to tell me something, Eds?”

Eddie didn’t say anything, his mind racing. Usually when he was this nervous he couldn’t shut up, but now he felt like he didn’t even know how to talk. He willed the pills sitting in his stomach to kick in.

“Eddie?”

“I don’t know.”

His eyes were closed tightly, palms pressing into the sockets. Maybe he could just pretend Richie wasn’t here and he’d go away.

“You don’t know…” Richie exhaled, looking up at the ceiling. “You don’t know if you’re gay?”

“Wouldn’t that just be fucking hilarious?” Eddie said finally, looking up. His eyes were red. The nervous anger had arrived. “The perfect goddamn punchline!”

“Punchline? What are you –“

“You got married? To a woman?” Eddie mocked Richie’s voice, steadily getting louder. “Not like everybody didn’t already think it when we were kids! Not like I wasn’t the fag and the queer to anybody who saw me! Like I don’t notice the guys at work whispering behind their hands. Like I don’t know my mother-in-law has been telling my wife to leave me for someone who actually likes women for the six years we’ve been together!”

“I didn’t –“ Richie’s breath caught in his throat, his hands shaking at his sides. “Eds, I didn’t –“

“Don’t call me that!” Eddie shrieked.

Richie was surprised none of the others had peeked out their hotel room doors to see what the yelling was about.

“Eddie,” Richie corrected, “I didn’t mean anything by –“

“By the gay jokes?” Eddie finished for him. He was facing away from Richie, clutching the edge of the counter. “No, I’m sure you didn’t. God, fuck this. I’m going to shower.”

“No, Eddie, please,” Richie said, grabbing Eddie’s arm as he walked by. Eddie let him, stopping and sighing, but not making eye contact. “Seriously. Can we talk about it? Like actual adults?”

“Are you capable of adult conversation, Trashmouth?”

The corner of Richie’s lips quirked. “I think we both need it.”

Eddie nodded, still staring straight ahead. Richie released the light grip he had on Eddie’s arm.

“After dinner,” Eddie said, and then headed upstairs.

There was an Applebees in Bangor. It was only a 25 minute drive from the Town House and the alcohol was cheap. Eddie had rattled off his list of allergies to the hostess before they even made it to the table.

“Can that be the first thing we talk about?” Richie asked, gesturing to Eddie.

“You want to talk about Eddie?” Bill asked.

“No, Eddie’s fake allergies,” Richie said. Eddie stared blankly at him.

“My allergies aren’t fake,” he said. His head wasn’t spinning so quickly anymore, he’d calmed down, was even a bit tired. When the waitress took their drink order, he ordered a margarita. Richie’s eyebrows rose at that, but he didn’t say anything.

“Eddie, you know all your medication is fake. Your mom was just bullshitting you –“

“That was – It was just the asthma. The inhaler. Because I have anxiety, I get… Panic attacks, you know. And Ma didn’t know what it was, we thought it was asthma, so I got an inhaler, and it just snowballed, I don’t know –“

“That’s bullshit,” Bev muttered. Eddie glared at her. “Seriously, it’s bullshit. And it’s why I wanted us to all talk.”

“To talk about me?”

“No, all of our bullshit! We all have it! I’ll go first: my husband abused me, and I left my ring at home. Well, not home anymore. Point is, I’m leaving him, and I’m taking control of my company. Because my life has been bullshit. I found someone who treats me exactly the way my dad did. And I didn’t – I didn’t even realize how bad it was until Mike called. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I deserved better!”

They all watched her speak, cheeks flushed red and eyes wet. Eddie could feel his own eyes watering.

“I just – You guys used to be my best friends. I’ve only made one other friend that I really, truly trust, and she lives across the country from me.”

“We’re still best friends, Bev,” Bill said, looking like he wanted to reach out to her but stopping himself at the last moment.

“Are we?” She asked. She looked at each of them. There were no expectations in her eyes.

“We can be,” Stan said quietly. “Do you guys remember… When we were kids, I asked if we’d all still be friends when we grew up. You all promised me we would. Told me I shouldn’t be so sad. That was the first thing I remembered when I got to Derry.”

“We didn’t mean to forget each other,” Ben said. “If we’d remembered… Things would have been different.”

“We can’t know that,” Stan responded, staring down at the table. “We were thirteen when we were friends. I don’t know about anyone else, but I am not the same person I was at thirteen. We might not even – without a common goal, I mean… Who’s to say we’d even be good together?”

Eddie bit his lip. Honestly, Stan was right. Eddie wasn’t the same person he was at thirteen. They’d grown up. Sometimes friendships aren’t meant to last forever.

“We can keep up with each other’s lives on Facebook or whatever,” Stan continued, “but is that really friendship? Friendship like we used to have?”

No one answered.

“We don’t know each other anymore. We may not be compatible and that’s… That’s okay.”

“Stan,” Beverly cried. The words were familiar from her mouth. “You don’t have to be so sad.”

“Yeah,” Stan answered, nodding but still avoiding eye contact.

“Can it be my turn, now?” Richie asked, pulling the attention from Stan to himself. It seemed a selfish move, but Eddie noticed the short eye contact and nod of thanks from Stanley and felt an aching fondness for Richie Tozier. “My bullshit is that I haven’t been happy since college, I can’t hold down a relationship, I don’t write my own jokes, and I’ve been ignoring my attraction to men for like… 27 years.”

Bill, who had a mouthful of beer, snorted, the amber liquid leaking from his mouth and nose. Everyone laughed, and once Bill had calmed himself, he grinned at Richie.

“Warn a guy, dude,” he said, lifting up his drink. “If anybody else is gonna come out, make sure nobody’s got a drink in their mouth!”

Eddie could feel the eyes on him. He stared down at the napkin in his lap, running his fingers along the edges. He wasn’t sure who was looking at him. Surely Richie. Probably Bill, and likely Bev as well. Stan wouldn’t, he wouldn’t be obvious, wouldn’t want to embarrass Eddie. Ben and Mike were on either side of him, probably aware of how blatant it would be if either of them turned to look at him. But still, they all had to be thinking it. Little sissy queerboy Eddie Kaspbrak.

His chest was beginning to tighten, and he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut out the sounds and sights and smells of the restaurant around him. He forced himself to draw in a deep breath, but he became dully aware that a whimper escaped his mouth when the air refused to enter his lungs.

“Excuse me,” he choked out, pushing back in his chair and standing before anyone could answer, not caring as his napkin fell to the dirty floor. He had tunnel vision as he pushed his way down the aisle; the double doors at the front of the restaurant getting closer and closer as his breaths became shorter and shorter. He shoved the doors open once he reached them and tried to breathe in the fresh air once he was outside. It was marginally better than the stuffy air inside the restaurant but his chest still hurt, his lungs still wouldn’t open up.

He spotted a bench and sat on it, trying to force himself to take slower breaths. He jumped when a hand touched his back, but when he looked up it was just Richie, who at some point had sat beside him while he was busy trying to breathe.

“Hey, dude,” Richie said, rubbing small circles on his back. “Just breathe in… Breathe out. Breathe in… Breathe out.”

Eddie did his best to breathe in time with Richie’s voice. They sat like that, Richie’s voice quietly soothing and Eddie’s wheezing quieting with each inhale, for what felt like hours. Eddie knew it hadn’t been, had probably only been a few minutes, but he could feel the heat of Richie’s hand through his shirt, could feel the way their thighs pressed together on the bench, and it made every second last longer than he would’ve wanted.

“You good?” Richie asked. Eddie nodded, too embarrassed to look up. His face tended to get blotchy after a panic attack, and he knew his eyes were probably red. He’d always thought he took on the features of a particularly difficult toddler when he got like this, and he didn’t want to subject Richie to that view. He didn’t want Richie to see him like that. “You wanna get a headstart on that talk?”

Eddie exhaled loudly. “Not particularly.”

“Okay,” Richie agreed easily. Comfortable quiet settled between them and Eddie tried not to think about Richie’s hand, still rubbing circles on his back. “I think we should go to the hospital.”

Eddie lifted his head, alarmed. He knew his eyes were wide, jaw dropped, but he couldn’t help the horrified reaction he had when he heard the word hospital.

“Just – Your cheek. It’s bleeding again. You must have irritated it when you –“

“When I lost my shit?” Eddie suggested, wincing. He pressed a hand against the bandage and could tell it was dampening quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber and meet you guys at the Inn.”

He was already pulling up his Uber app when Richie nudged his shoulder, grabbing at his phone. “I’m not letting you go to the hospital alone, dude.”

“I’m a grown man, Richie,” he argued, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, and you’re a grown man who’s terrified of hospitals and who I don’t trust not to fuckin’ run away the second he’s by himself.”

Eddie bit his lip and looked away. He hadn’t been thinking about escaping, but now he was imagining stopping for a fast food dinner of his own before sneaking back to the Inn, grabbing his things without anyone noticing he’d returned and taking off in his rental.

“I’m gonna let the others know where we’re going,” Richie said, standing. “Don’t go anywhere. Do I need to confiscate your phone?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie muttered, frowning. He winced as it pulled at his cheek.

Richie didn’t answer, just rushed back into the busy building. Eddie saw there was an Uber two minutes away so he ordered it. The blue car pulled up to the curb just as Richie stepped out of the restaurant.

“This is our car,” he told Richie, pointing. Richie nodded, following him. They sat in the backseat, Eddie said hello to the driver, and then the car fell into silence.

Eddie prodded at the inside of his cheek, wincing at the taste of blood and the feeling of split skin against his tongue. It was starting to hurt again, and he pulled his pill bottle out of his pocket. He flicked off the lid and let a multitude of pills fall into his hand, picking out one of the blue oblong ones and swallowing it dry.

“Didn’t you take some of that like, an hour ago?” Richie asked, not bothering to keep his voice down. Eddie glanced at the driver, who was clearly listening but pretending to pay them no mind.

“I took anxiety meds an hour ago,” Eddie said, stuffing the bottle filled with various pills back in his pocket. “That was a pain pill, for my cheek.”

“Dude, you took two pain pills after it happened,” Richie said warily. “Isn’t there a limit? On like, how much you can take in twelve hours or something?”

“Are you my fucking doctor?” Eddie snapped, glancing out the window.

“Just… looking out for you. What the fuck ever, forgive me for fucking trying.”

Eddie sighed loudly, grimacing at the pain it caused in his cheek.

They sat in silence for the last ten minutes of the ride, and Eddie made sure to tip the driver for not saying anything the entire time. The emergency room wasn’t crowded; it was a weekday evening, and there seemed to be no outbreak of any virus causing hoards of kids to take up the seats of the waiting room. Eddie went to the front desk to check in as Richie flopped into a chair at the edge of the room.

“Half an hour,” he told him, sitting a chair away. Richie gave him an amused look but didn’t comment. “Now that you know I’m not going to run away, you can go.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “I’m not leaving, shithead.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re friends?” Richie said, though it sounded like a question he wanted Eddie to answer.

Eddie shook his head. “Stan was right, Rich. We don’t know each other anymore. I’m a different person than I was at 13.”

“Why does that mean we can’t get to know each other again? We were best friends then, who’s to say we can’t be best friends now?”

My wife, Eddie wanted to say, but bit his tongue.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he said instead. His right knee had started bouncing, so he crossed his foot over his left knee. He wished he could take another Valium, but with the way Richie reacted to his pill bottle in the car he wasn’t going to risk it. Richie didn’t understand that he’d been taking these medications since he was 20, he had to take a little more than most people because his body had built up a bit of a resistance, but it was fine. A lot of people have to up their doses over the years.

“Why are you trying so hard not to be my friend?”

“Why are you trying so hard to be my friend?” Eddie countered. He knew he sounded like a little kid but he couldn’t help it. Richie could irritate him like no one else.

“Because whether you think so or not, I still care about you,” Richie said bluntly. “Sorry if that’s a fucking inconvenience to you, but a space demon making me forget you for half my life isn’t going to change that.”

Eddie laughed against his will. “A space demon?”

“Well, what the fuck else could he have been?!”

“A clown?”

“How many clowns do you know that can shapeshift, Eddie?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, biting his lip to keep from smiling. Fuck this guy, honestly. Nobody irritated him the way Richie Tozier did, but nobody made him laugh quite as easily, either. He hated it. Hated how proud Richie got when Eddie laughed at his jokes, the gleam in his eye as he realized that he’d given Eddie a good chuck.

“Seriously, though,” Richie said, holding eye contact. His glasses had a crack in the corner of the left eye, and Eddie focused on that. “Now that we’ve got each other back we can’t just… Drift apart again. You know I’m not serious often and this is physically paining me to say, but –“

“You’re so dramatic,” Eddie sighed. “Just – it’s not logical. Where do you live? LA, right? I live in New York. We’re literally on opposite sides of the country.”

“Hey, Eds,” Richie whispered loudly. “There’s this new invention, it’s called the internet –“

“Beep beep,” Eddie rolled his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“I could fuckin FaceTime you daily. I could FaceTime you while on stage, show the whole audience your pretty face!”

“I don’t like that.”

“Fine. Not on stage. From my hotel rooms on tour, though,” he said with a waggle of his brows. Eddie glared at him. He shrugged, letting the conversation end. Eddie stared at his foot, crossed over his knee. It was shaking midair. He wasn’t nervous about the stitches, though he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it either, so why did he feel like he was vibrating out of his skin? Like a fist had grabbed his heart and was squeezing and –

He shuddered. Okay, bad metaphor.

But he was nervous. Past nervous. Anxious. It didn’t feel like he’d taken his anxiety pills at all. Richie’s words kept running through his head, telling him how they could be friends now.

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about FaceTiming Richie or whether they’d all be friends after this because he was resolutely not thinking about After This. He refused to think about the wife he had waiting for him in Queens, who had sent him over a hundred texts since he’d left. His phone had been on do not disturb for a while now – there was no telling how many times she’d called. She’d probably called all his work friends, too, asking where he was. He hated to think what their answers would be.

The work friends that invited him to the bars and then pointed out guys for him, laughing the whole time. The work friends who, when referring to Myra, made sure to add finger quotes over the word “wife”. The work friends who had asked the exact same question Richie had when he’d first started: You’re married? To a woman?

They’d probably tell Myra he was off with some male lover for a vacation, that he’d run away to be with some guy he’d met online, that he went to meet up with an old childhood friend who had always been more than a friend.

Each thought made him more nauseous than the last.

“All patched up?”

Eddie nodded, his prescription clutched tightly in his hand.

“What’s that for?” Richie asked, glancing down at the white paper.

“Prescription,” he said, breathing in deeply as they stepped outside. He noticed Richie on his own phone, calling a car.

“For?”

“Can you get off my dick about medication?” Eddie snapped, heart racing. He wasn’t even sure why he cared so much, why it made him so nervous that Richie seemed so interested in what pills he was taking.

“So it’s more pain meds,” Richie said, ignoring the outburst. “On top of the pain pills that you already happened to have. For what, exactly?”

“None of your fucking business, Richie,” he said. “If you’re trying to convince me to be your friend, you’re doing a really shitty job of it.”

“I think I’m probably doing a better job of being your friend than anyone you’ve been friends with in the last 27 years.”

Eddie turned to him, eyebrows raised. “And why is that?”

“Because whatever assholes you’re friends with now apparently aren’t doing anything about the fact that you take pills with alcohol, or that you have a bottle filled with who-fucking-knows-what in your pocket.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say. Luckily, a black car stopped in front of them and without saying a word, Richie walked to it and got inside. Eddie followed, and they sat in silence again. It was past midnight by the time they returned to the Inn, and when they stepped inside the lobby was empty.

Ignoring Richie’s presence at his side, Eddie began to walk toward the stairs, stopping on the first step when Richie said his name.

“I thought we were gonna talk,” he said.

“Are you kidding?”

“Eddie, come on, man.”

Eddie walked back to Richie, eyes narrowed. “You want me to open up to you after you accused me of – of – fucking… Whatever!?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Eds,” Richie said quietly. He was looking directly into Eddie’s eyes. It felt like too much, and Eddie looked down at the floor. “I just wanted to make sure you’re being safe and taking care of yourself.”

“It’s not any of your concern,” Eddie answered after a moment. Somehow they were standing in each other’s space; he could feel Richie’s body heat, was looking at Richie’s shoes as he stared downward.

“I care about you, Eds,” Richie stressed before taking a large step back. “We all do. Even if you don’t talk to me, talk to one of us, please.”

His face felt hot. He closed his eyes tightly against tears that threatened to fall, let his hands ball up into fists.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” Richie pleaded.

He broke. One hand flew up to cover his mouth, trying to hide the sob that escaped his throat. He could hear Richie moving closer, feel his arms wrap around him and lead them to the couch. He tried to wipe his tears before they reached the bandage on his cheek, but they were coming too quickly. Richie was saying his name but it felt like he was underwater, like a barrier was keeping him from hearing clearly. He sucked in a deep breath and cried harder when his chest burned. He didn’t know what was happening around him, too focused on breathing through his mouth instead of his nose, which had stuffed up since the tears had started coming.

It took a long time for him to calm down. His mind raced with thoughts of Myra and the messages waiting for him on his phone. The dread he felt like a weight in his stomach at the notion of seeing her again, of having to explain why he left, where he’d been, what had happened to his face. He thought about work and the office filled with people he hated, and wondered why he’d spent the last three years pretending to like them. He thought about the way his mind had kept wandering the entire time he’d been in Derry, and how it reminded him of being a kid. He hadn’t been so aware of it when he was a kid, just how much he thought about Richie, but as an adult it was hard to miss. The sign at the pharmacy had large lettering and he thought about how Richie would be able to read it without his glasses. He saw a police car drive by and thought about Richie’s Irish Cop Voice from when they were kids. He saw the way Ben and Beverly looked at each other and he thought about what it would feel like to have Richie’s eyes on him like that. He saw them kiss underwater in the quarry and wondered what Richie’s lips would taste like.

He thought about his mom, how she’d always made comments about how dirty Richie was, and how he was going to get Eddie dirty, too. If only she’d known that it was the other way around. Even if he hadn’t realized it at the time, he knew his crush on Richie began when they were kids. He could remember that urge to always be near him, to always be touching him somehow, to be the one to make him laugh. And being hit with those feelings again now was sickening. He had a wife.

He had a wife that he didn’t love.

How did he not realize that you shouldn’t dread going home to the person you love? How did he ignore the way his mind drifted during sex? How did he convince himself just as much as her that the reason he couldn’t perform was because of his medications? It felt so obvious now, in Derry, that he’d never felt anything but resignation about his marriage. Of course this is who he would end up with. He needed someone to take care of him, someone to make sure he took all his medication, to make sure his inhaler was always filled, to remind him that chewing gum made his jaw pain worse, to make sure he remembered his jacket on chilly mornings and his boots on rainy days. He needed someone to keep him safe, secure, secluded, sedated.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the years he’d wasted; first, the years spent staying by his mother’s side, coming back after he’d left because the guilt was so heavy. Then, those years between her death and meeting Myra, that he’d holed up in a one-bedroom apartment and focused on nothing but his job, being the most efficient risk analyst there was, taking his pills every day and using his inhaler and not letting anyone close. And finally, the years with Myra. From their third date she’d sunk her claws into him and poisoned him with loving kindness. She’d trapped him with medication reminders and rides to each of his doctor’s appointments and weekly pickups from the pharmacy. She’d chained him with understanding and sympathy.

He couldn’t go back. He knew he couldn’t, and he knew that was why his chest had been so tight since the end. He hadn’t expected to survive. When he left Myra, he’d left with the knowledge that he would never return. He had assumed he would never return because he’d be dead, but now… Now he had a choice. He could crawl back home with his tail between his legs, and Myra would make sure he took his pain pills every four hours and his anxiety pills every six. She’d make sure he got his sleeping pill half an hour before bed and his heartburn pill half an hour before dinner. She’d pick up a new inhaler from the pharmacy and cook his favorite meals and cry when he couldn’t answer her questions.

Or.

What would he even do? He had a job, he had a home. Where would he go? Would he have to rent another one-bedroom? Slowly slip back into that lonely existence where nothing happened between work and home?

He hadn’t realized Richie’s arms were wrapped around him until he finally breathed in without a sharp pain racing through his chest. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but Richie was just silently holding him, hand occasionally running up and down his back. They were rocking back and forth a little.

He brought his hands up to his face, reaching over Richie’s arms, and wiped his tears, grimacing at the moisture that had collected in his bandage. He’d need to replace it before he went to sleep. He began to sit up, pushing against Richie’s chest where his head had fallen, and Richie released his arms. He was surprised to see red-rimmed eyes behind thick glasses.

“You okay?” Richie whispered. No one was around, and Eddie was sure the others were all upstairs asleep, but somehow they both recognized this would be easier to talk about in hushed voices.

“Not really,” he admitted, sniffling. He wasn’t as aware of their closeness now, like his body had gotten used to the feeling of Richie and had decided it was good, that he didn’t need to focus so much on every place they touched. “We can have that talk now.”

“Do you remember when we’d have sleepovers?” Richie asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “We used to have these deep conversations at like, one in the morning, about the future and what we wanted to do and who we wanted to be…”

“At least it worked out for one of us,” Eddie managed, sending Richie a sad smile.

“Maybe career-wise,” Richie shrugged. “Although after the way I bolted offstage I don’t know that I even have that anymore. But I’m not happy. I wanted to get married and have a dog and a cool apartment in the middle of a city with a big wall of windows. Do you remember that? And you wanted a big house with a pool in the backyard and a cat who had a litterbox that never smelled bad.”

Eddie snorted at the memory. “Maybe they’ve come up with the technology for that by now.”

“So no cat?”

“No,” Eddie sighed. “Allergies.”

Richie frowned. Before he could say anything Eddie put a hand up. “Yeah, I know. But I spent the last twenty-something years believing… I mean…”

“I know,” Richie said.

“You know how much medication I take every day?” Eddie asked suddenly, sitting up. “I take Valium every 4 hours as needed, but of course my chest is tight all the time and I always feel nervous so I usually take it every time. I take it so often it doesn’t even make me tired anymore. Then I take a pain pill every six hours because I have a TMJ disorder that makes my jaw hurt, and the pain goes all the way up to my temple and behind my ear and down the back of my neck. And I have to take heartburn pills before I eat, a sleeping pill before I sleep. I take an allergy pill after dinner, I use my inhaler constantly, I take seven different vitamins daily…”

Richie opened his mouth to say something but closed it, looking at Eddie with his own painful expression.

“I don’t want you to – to feel sorry for me, okay? I get enough of that from my wife. I’m not some poor delicate weak damsel in distress who needs protecting, even though that’s what I’ve thought for the last 27 years, and all 13 years minus a few months before that.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Richie corrected. “And I don’t think you’re weak. In fact, you may recall me telling you just how brave I think you are. But now that you know you don’t need all that stuff…”

“But I do, that’s the point!”

“What?”

“Maybe I don’t need to be waited on hand and foot but I’m still anxious as fuck all the time. I still hurt. I still can’t fall asleep on my own. It’s like my mother willed me into actual sickness, into needing to take all these pills every day.”

“Fuck that,” Richie said, voice increasing in volume. “Seriously. Your mom was an awful person but she’s fucking dead and she can’t control you anymore. You’ve just gotta… I dunno man, go to therapy, stop taking so many Valium, dude, seriously, and get the fuck away from your wife. Maybe your life is never gonna be perfect, and you’ll never be the pinnacle of health, but you can be happy. At least happier than you are now.”

“I’m not happy at all now,” Eddie admitted, biting his lip. “I don’t know if I even know what happiness feels like.”

“I thought I didn’t,” Richie told him. “When I came back to Derry, I realized how empty I’d been for so long without realizing it. I tried to think back to when I was younger, after college, and I realized I wasn’t even happy when I was with Sandy. That was probably the best part of my adult life and even then I was only okay. But the more I remembered that summer, the years before that summer when it was just you, me, Bill, and Stan… I was happy then. I think you were, too. Maybe not all the time, because your mom fucking sucked, but… When it was just us, we were all happy. That’s why I –“

Eddie swallowed thickly. “That’s why you want us to be friends again so badly.”

Richie nodded, wiping beneath his eyes. “I just remember how much I loved you guys, how happy I was with you, and I know we can be like that again.”

Eddie didn’t answer for a moment. He turned his head, looked around the empty hotel lobby and listened to the sound of Richie’s breathing. Finally, he looked straight into bright blue eyes.

“Do you think I should get a divorce?”

Richie made a noise, something between a laugh and a sob, before he spoke. “That’s not up to me, Eds. If you’re – if you –“

“If I’m gay?” Eddie’s voice was barely audible.

“Yeah,” Richie whispered back. “If you are, then… It’s not really fair to either of you. To stay together, I mean. But it’s your choice. I can’t make the decision for you.”

“Do you…” he looked down, unable to see Richie’s reaction to the question. His heart pounded with nerves. “Do you want me to get a divorce?”

It was quiet apart from Richie’s labored breathing. Eddie kept staring at their laps.

“Sorry,” Eddie said. “I shouldn’t have…”

“What I want doesn’t matter, Eds,” Richie answered finally. Eddie wasn’t sure if he’d understood all that Eddie was asking. Eddie wasn’t even sure what he was asking. What would he have done if Richie had said yes? That wouldn’t necessarily mean anything about how he feels for Eddie. It would just mean he wants what’s best for his friend. Besides, Eddie wouldn’t even… If he does get a divorce, if that was what Richie wanted… He doesn’t know if he’d even be able to –

To what? To be in a relationship with Richie? To love him out loud, for anyone to see? Just the thought made him want to run up the stairs, crawl into the bed and never come back out. He couldn’t think about it, maybe one day he would be ready to consider being with a man, but he wasn’t there yet. He couldn’t even imagine the concept of being with a man that wasn’t Richie. Sure, he found others attractive, was attracted to them, but… How was he supposed to fall in love with one when Richie was right there? When he knew Richie existed?

“I guess I have a lot to think about,” Eddie finally said, looking back up at Richie. He looked tired, bruises beneath his eyes, glasses slipping down his nose. His hair was messy, evidence of how much he’d run his hands through it since his shower before dinner. His lips were red, like he’d been biting them throughout the conversation, like he’d been uncomfortable. But he nodded at him, stood up, and offered a hand out to Eddie. He took it, muttered, “thanks,” and followed Richie up the stairs. They said a quick and quiet goodnight and when Eddie entered his room he placed his prescription on the bedside table and went to the bathroom to replace his bandage. He noticed someone had cleaned up the blood from Bowers’ attack, though there still was no curtain in his shower. He sent a silent thanks to whichever of his friends had been there before he quickly replaced his bandage. He grabbed a t-shirt from his suitcase, kicking his jeans off and changing tops. His suitcases sat open on the floor, everything inside folded neatly and placed perfectly. He stared at the endless pill bottles in his toiletries bag and felt sick. His sleeping pill was the third from the right. His allergy pill was to the left of that. It wasn’t time for a pain pill yet, the first bottle in the long line, but normally he would take it anyway since he’d be sleeping when the four-hour mark passed.

He ignored them all, closed the suitcase, and crawled into bed.

He stared at the wall for two hours. Finally, fighting tears, he got back out of bed and reached into his bag. He grabbed the third bottle from the right, popped off the lid, and dry swallowed one tablet. Then he picked up another bottle, the first on the left, and shook two pills out into his hand. He swallowed those, too. With a heavy heart, he placed his head back on the pillow and fell asleep.

#eddie month

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renaroo · 5 years ago

Text

Some Times (Time and Time Again) (6/8)

Disclaimer: Booster Gold, Blue Beetle, and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Canon shaken not stirred, Heavy canon references to Booster Gold (2009-2011) and Blue Beetle (2016-2018) Pairings: Boostle Rating: T Synopsis: Booster Gold and the rest of the Time Masters are still straightening up things in the wake of the most recent universal Rebirth. But Rip Hunter is still missing in the aftermath, leaving Booster in charge with Skeets, Michelle, and Rani. But there’s a distraction for Booster, one he can’t keep himself from ignoring.

Ted Kord, miraculously, is still alive. And that makes everything more complicated than Michael could have ever imagined.

A/N: My gosh we are so close to completing this thing! Just two chapters left, hard as it is to believe!

And of course a wonderful thanks to @shibascarf, @babybatbrat, @bibliofilariidae, @mcbangle, @secretlystephaniebrown, arouraleona, and boopinbabbit for your lovely feedback and support!

Michelle Carter

“God, I’m such an idiot sometimes!” Michelle hisses to herself, feet stomping down the corridor toward Rani’s room.

Her conversation with Ted Kord is still rattling around in her skull and she can’t tell what half of her she’d like to strangle more — the overly sharing side unable to keep a coherent secret or the crude and cryptic mistress of time she feels no right to even claiming.

Coming to a stop mid-stride, Michelle closes her eyes and lets her shoulders droop. She tilts her head back with a sigh. “No wonder Rip and Mikey trust me with next to nothing other than babysitting duty,” she groans. “Throw one little moment of emotional conflict and I utterly lose those salutatorian's brains.”

Opening her eyes, she looks toward Rani’s still distant room and feels a wave of conflict and shame that hasn’t pestered her in a while. But this is the feeling she should be used to by now — it’s just like their father used to always say when he bothered to be around.

“Been playing second best to nothing since the womb, huh, Michelle?” she mutters under her breath. “Could place second in a game of solitaire.”

She takes a moment to suck in a deep breath, steeling herself for a smiling face and positive disposition when a single voice knocks the wind out of her lungs yet again.

“What’s solitaire?” Rani’s tiny voice questions.

Michelle blinks in surprise just before Rani’s mousy haired head pops out from her room’s doorway.

Despite herself, despite everything, Michelle manages a softer and more genuine smile than the one she has been building up to and shakes her head slightly. “A really boring card game,” she answers easily. “Should have known better than to think you would be asleep.”

Skeets, the ever unhelpful bot, hovers out from Rani’s room and bops in the air. “It would have been an unlikely scenario even in the most forgiving of circumstances, Michelle! Which, unfortunately for us, the last twenty-four hours or so have not been.”

“Try the last twenty-nine years for some of us, Skeets,” Michelle jokes, closing the distance of the hallway and scooping Rani into her arms with a simple bow.

“That is much too small to be your correct chronal age, Michelle—“

“Skeets, shush,” Michelle snaps as she enters the bedroom. “Or I’ll give you to Batman to dissect. Again.”

“Three experiences too many, I will heed the warning,” Skeets banters back.

As they enter Rani’s room, Michelle slows her approach to Rani’s bed and adjusts her hold on the younger child. Her thoughts are nearly as heavy as Rani is getting as she lives and ages with them. It’s not going to be long before picking her up isn’t an option for Michelle or Michael.

“Are you going to make me go to bed?” Rani asks critically.

“Eventually,” Michelle admits, turning to sit on the edge of the bed while still keeping her grip on Rani. The girl sits easily in her lap and leans away, giving enough space for them to look into each other’s eyes. “We need to have a talk about everything that’s happened first.”

Rani’s cheeks grow slightly pale and she squirms uncomfortably. “Oh,” she says. “I think I’d rather sleep.”

“Well, that’s tough, kiddo, probably should have put yourself to bed before I got over here then,” Michelle jokes, poking at Rani’s stomach playfully.

In response, Rani turns and twists, but the enthusiasm is slow and dull compared to Rani’s usual behavior.

It’s one of many signs Michelle, Michael, and Rip have learned to pay careful attention to with Rani. She is a sensitive little girl, and her traumas are numerous. When she’s not bopping around she’s almost assuredly in some state of regressive isolation or pure shock.

Watching the man she loves as a father get beaten to a pulp by an evil man they have encountered before is, at the very least, a trigger. Michelle can be certain of at least that much.

“Rani, listen to me,” Michelle says, firmly but without any heat to it. It’s enough to draw Rani’s wide eyes to her. “We love you, and we want the best for you. You know that, right?”

After a moment of clear confusion, Rani manages a small nod.

“Good, because we do,” Michelle reinforces. “And we know you love Rip and want to find him. We do too! But you are a very little girl and this is a very dangerous multiverse we live in. You absolutely cannot, under no circumstances, leave Time Lab without either Mikey, myself, or Rip.”

“I had Skeets,” Rani says quickly.

On instinct, Michelle turns her head to acknowledge Skeets’ floating presence. She immediately turns her eyes back on Rani but it’s a moment too late as Skeets already feels acknowledged.

“Young Rani does have quite an argument on that account,” Skeets says supportively.

“Yes, Skeets, you did a great job,” Michelle says with a roll of her eyes that threatens to continue right out of her sockets. “What were you even doing allowing any of this, Skeets? Aren’t you programmed with safety protocols and whatnot?”

“Yes I am, Michelle, however, there are no proper babysitting protocols. And while I advised against rash action, it was best to make do with the situation at hand,” Skeets returns promptly. “Might I point out, this is not far off from my calculations when dealing with your brother.”

There isn’t much she can give to deny that fairly abundant fact so Michelle releases a groan instead. “Why can’t anything just be simple?”

Rani squirms and meets Michelle’s gaze. “Please don’t be mad at Skeets, Michelle,” Rani pleads. “It’s my fault. I just wanted to find Boppy, and he did leave me a message.”

Michelle feels her chest tighten and she squeezes her grip on Rani sadly. “We all want Rip back, Rani, believe me.”

“In further defense of both Rani and myself,” Skeets spoke up, hovering closer to eye level with Michelle, “following clear instructions left by Rip Hunter is often an important and practical step for all of us here in the Time Lab. And those newly chalked directions were fairly direct considering the usual clues.”

Blinking, Michelle thinks it over.

“That’s… actually pretty true, Skeets,” Michelle remarks thoughtfully. “And it did lead to saving Ted… and getting a bunch of us almost killed, but definitely the saving Ted part.” She presses her lips together, still deep in contemplation. “But even then there wasn’t any sign of Rip, even when Michael was almost certainly in trouble. And that’s not like Rip at all. I can’t even count on my hands and toes how many times, when Mike’s taken too much, Rip has shown up and tipped the scales for him. It’s almost his signature at a certain point.”

Following the conversation, Rani draws her own brows together in concern. “Michelle, you don’t think Boppy wrote the message? But who did? I’m the only one who’s ever written on the board before… and Boppy made me switch to making my unicorns and butterflies on paper so I don’t do that anymore.”

Sighing, Michelle shifts Rani’s weight to her other knee. “I’ll be honest, honey, I’m not sure yet what exactly I think about anything.”

Rani’s bottom lip puckers out as she studies Michelle carefully. “If we don’t know what’s going on, how do we know I did the wrong thing?” she asks pointedly.

“No, no, missy, you’re not philosophizing out of this one,” Michelle stops her quickly. “This isn’t a matter of right or wrong at the moment, it’s a matter of keeping you and everyone else safe so that we can all be together again as a big, happy family. And if you’re flying around to random times and places without us, we can’t do that. Because I know for me and Mike, losing you is the absolute worst thing imaginable these days, and I’m not going to let it happen. Okay, girlie?”

While she ducks her head down to avoid Michelle’s gaze, a coy smile finds its way to Rani’s face. She knows when Michelle says these things that she’s speaking from the bottom of her heart. She has to know by now.

And if she does, considering the emotional mess Rani was when she first came into their lives, maybe that means they’re doing something right after all.

When Rani breaks the silence again, it’s with a deceptively simple question. “Is Ted Kord now in our family? Like Boppy?”

Thinking about it, Michelle takes a breath and then leans back. “I honestly don’t know what’s in store with those two, Rani, love,” she admits. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere any time soon. Either because Michael and he need to sort things out or because of the whole… assassination stuff. That makes it kind of difficult to picture this arrangement ending too fast.”

Before Rani can respond, there is a loud shout followed by laughter.

“Welp, that’s the nose, and no sounds of murder,” Michelle jokes. Rani looks at her questioningly so she rubs her shoulders. “What I mean is, things are definitely looking like we can be expecting to see more of the former Blue Beetle.”

“Okay,” Rani nods. “And if he’s family, then Boppy will be okay with him staying here, like me, so that’s good.”

Michelle has a hard time arguing with Rani’s peculiar logic on that accord.

That is until Michelle looks over and notices the little girl is still furrowed in thought, her eyes darting back and forth as if she’s reading something on her room’s wall. Then, looking at Michelle cautiously, Rani asks, “If he’s not family… how is Black Beetle able to always get in and out of Time Lab? Or write on the board, if it’s him?”

If Rani hadn’t always been so innocent and young, Michelle thinks the questions would have been laced with more accusations. It’s already enough to make Michelle’s heart seize.

They are, after all, very good questions.

Playing up to the role of an adult, Michelle looks toward Skeets instead. “Skeets… how is all of this stuff possible from Black Beetle?” she asks, more worry in her voice than she intends to let on.

For once, Skeets’ response is not immediate and overly explanatory. The droid hovers, a strangely ominous look to his screen in the wrong lighting.

“Apologies, Michelle,” Skeets says in a flat and altogether unapologetic tone. “Information about my scans and records for Rip Hunter and Black Beetle are blocked as of update two-two-seven-dash-eleven-dot-thirteen. Courtesy of Rip Hunter.”

“What?” Michelle asks, aghast.

“Why would Boppy do that?” Rani asks again, only now her pointed questions are accented by the shake of Time Lab’s very infrastructure itself.

The little girl in her lap screams and throws herself into a fit before Michelle can even blink. She can’t draw a single coherent thought before leaping to her feet, Rani in tow, and looking at Skeets.

“I am receiving an intruder alert!” Skeets says loudly, a red exclamation popping up on his screen.

“You useless, toaster!” Michelle sputters in frustration. “Tell me where this is coming from!”

“I believe it does not require much deductive reasoning,” Skeets answers, following Michelle through the door and out into the corridor, “to assume that the laboratory is the most likely option!”

She would die before admitting it out loud, but Michelle knows that Skeets is right. She turns on her heels and takes off to follow the continuing noises of clattering and shaking.

Their home is under attack, their family, everything they still have of their old world and time — and Michelle cannot be nearly as upset with that as she is with the haunting premises that Rani and Skeets have given her.

Black Beetle or not, the real attack is on the understanding Michelle has had of their everything in the last few congruent years. And as much as she wants Rip Hunter safely back with them, she needs a serious word with him about that alone.

#writing #dc fic #DC: Some Times (Time and Time Again)#Boostle #Michelle Carter #Booster Gold #Michael Jon Carter #Ted Kord #Blue Beetle #Rani #Skeets

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spookyjiimfanfiction · 5 years ago

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Chapter Nine

Tear In My Heart | Series Masterlist

Warnings: Mention of Beau, extreme cuteness ahead

Word Count: 2719

Authors’ Note: We hope you enjoy this chapter! (picture credit)

December 2016 - Before Leg Three of the Emotional Roadshow

Parking your car in the driveway of Josh's home, you got out and instantly got hit by the freezing winds that had formed. December was always miserable in Ohio and you wanted nothing more than to curl up in front of a fire with a big blanket wrapped over you, but you had promised the boys and Jenna that you would be present tonight in order to help decorate the interior of Josh's house. He, thankfully, had done the exterior not too long ago and it looked beautiful. The bright lights shone down on your face as you hurried over to his front porch and knocked on the door.

Bouncing a little bit to stay warm and wrapping your arms around yourself, you waited only a few moments before the door was opened up to reveal a familiar smile in front of you.

"Hurry inside! You'll get sick!" Josh exclaimed and ushered you in, closing the door behind you, as you were greeted by Tyler and Jenna happily.

You smiled widely and waved, looking over to see how adorable the both of them looked in their matching ugly sweaters. It wasn't even Christmas yet, but they showed their spirit as often as they could that month. Suddenly, a pair of warm and strong arms wrapped around you from behind and they belonged to the one person that you wanted to be hugged by. You smiled and looked over your shoulder, realizing instantly how close he actually was to you and blushing almost instantly.

"Thank you for coming! We have the tree and it just needs to be decorated," he exclaimed, trying to brush off what he had just done as if it were no big deal. He let you go and then scurried over to said tree, reaching into a big box he had to pull out some ornaments. You slowly took off your coat to let it hang on the back of the nearest couch and saw Tyler and Jenna smirking in your direction, which caused you to roll your eyes. Making your way over in their direction, you stood beside Jenna and nudged her a bit before the both of you started giggling and helping to put some ornaments on the tree with little help from Tyler. He was too busy trying to get the Christmas music on to liven the mood more than it was.

After a bit of time, Jenna gasped and caused everyone to look in her direction as if they were worried something was wrong with her. She quickly waved her hand to shoo away any worries.

"I forgot about the goodies! Y/N, come and help me!" she yelled and grabbed your arm, dragging you into the kitchen while you nearly tripped over things on the floor; causing Josh and Tyler to laugh.

After Jenna let go of your arm, she hurried over to the fridge and got out her necessary ingredients to start making the cookie dough mix. She looked over to you with a smile and pointed to the cabinets.

"Can you get me a few mixing bowls?"

"Of course!" you replied. It was obvious that she had brought everything over, because there was no way that Josh just had the correct things lying around his home.

Getting what she needed, you placed the bowls down on the counter beside her, receiving a thanks on her end. The both of you got to work on the cookies, wanting to make them extra tasty for the boys, and got into a small conversation about the upcoming holidays. When you got to thinking, what you were doing... it was almost as if you and Josh were in a relationship already. You were baking for him - and Tyler a little -, spending time in his home, and helping him decorate.

Isn't that mostly what girlfriends do?

“What has you so happy?” Jenna asked upon noticing the smile on your face.

You glanced over to where the boys were standing near the tree, engrossed in their own activity. Tyler was standing on one arm of Josh’s couch, leaning over to put an ornament towards the top of the tree. Josh was beneath him with his arms out, just in case he fell. Tyler never fell though, you had learned that a long time ago.

“I’m just thinking,” you said, measuring out the ingredients that Jenna had put in front of you.

“About?”

“What life would be like if… you know. Him and I were to-”

“Say no more,” Jenna grinned as she added an egg to the cookie dough. “I understand you loud and clear.”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“I take it things with Beau aren’t going well?”

You rolled your eyes, “Not at all. I’ve tried to end things at least five times since your wedding, but he just won’t listen. He always derails the conversation or pretends that he never heard me in the first place. I’m starting to think that I’m stuck in a relationship that I’ll never get out of.”

“You know, there’s always legal options… if it comes to that. The three of us are going to have your back.”

“I know, it’s just,” you sighed, “I don’t want to jeopardize the boys by bringing some giant legal matter onto their radar. Their career is really starting to pick up and I would hate to bring an end to that just because I can’t handle my stupid boyfriend.”

Jenna set down the spoon that she was stirring with and turned to face you, a serious expression now covering her face.

“Listen, I know that those two - idiotic as they may be - would much rather have you safe and happy, even if it meant a hit to their career. You’ve experienced firsthand what their fanbase is like, Y/N, they’re not going to ditch them anytime soon. And you and I both know that Josh would love to see you get rid of this guy.”

“He’s been wanting to see Beau gone since I met him four years ago.”

Four years ago. Had it really been that long since Josh came into your life?

“Just another reason to kick him to the curb.”

“I guess.”

Your conversation was interrupted by the boys wandering into the kitchen, carefully eyeing the bowl of cookie dough in front of Jenna. Josh hung around the far side of the counter, but Tyler was bold enough to come striding over and stick his finger straight into the bowl, earning him a swat from Jenna.

“You didn’t wash your hands!” she groaned.

“My hands are spotless,” he said, making a show of licking the cookie dough off his finger.

Jenna only shook her head and went back to adding chocolate chips to the bowl. Tyler sauntered over behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. When she was distracted by him, he reached forward and swiped another glob of dough onto his fingers.

“Tyler!” she giggled. “Stop that!”

You couldn’t help but smile when Tyler pressed a kiss to her cheek. Over a year of marriage and they were still acting like the same lovesick children they were when they met. It gave you hope that one day, that might be you too.

Now that Jenna and Tyler were distracted by one another, Josh came wandering over and leaned against the counter next to you. He crossed his arms in front of him, making them even harder to ignore than usual.

“It seems like decorating the tree went well,” you smiled, meeting his eyes to avoid your own from wandering somewhere else.

“I would say so, aside from when Tyler nearly fell straight on top of me.”

“Hey, at least nothing ended up broken.”

“Yet.”

Josh laughed and shook his head. You stared for a moment, letting yourself take in the crinkles around his eyes and the few strands of pink hair that were framing his face. He noticed you staring and raised his eyebrows, making you turn away.

“Want to try some cookie dough?” you mumbled, already reaching for two spoons that were sitting out on the corner.

You scooped up two sizable globs of cookie dough with the spoons, handing one to Josh.

“Cheers?” he asked.

“Cheers.”

You clinked your spoons together and took a bite of cookie dough. It was easily the best recipe you had ever tried, thanks to Jenna. She wasn’t kidding when she said baking was one of her talents.

“This is amazing,” Josh nodded. “Great job, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I really helped,” you snorted.

Josh laughed and bumped you with his elbow. You simply ducked out of his way, stumbling a little in the process.

You giggled, “Guess I’ve had a little too much eggnog.”

“Ok! Ok. Boys out of the kitchen,” Jenna said. You turned to see that she had broken out of Tyler’s grasp and was now standing in front of the oven, waving her arms at all of you. “You interrupted our moment earlier.”

“Your moment?” Tyler asked.

“Yes. Our moment. Now get out of here so we can continue it.”

Tyler made a show of leaving the kitchen, making sure to drag his feet and sigh dramatically now and again. Josh followed behind him and gave him reassuring pats on the back, still holding his cookie dough in his free hand.

Leaning against the counter, you watched the boys leave - your sole focus being on Josh. Shaking your head to rattle yourself out of a small daydream you were having, you suddenly came to the realization that eyes were burning into you. Your head slowly turned to the side to face Jenna, who was staring in your direction with a giant smirk.

"Girl, you have it bad." She wiggled her eyebrows, causing you to laugh.

"Jenna, stop!" you responded with a light push to her arm.

The both of you turned back to your previous task of now placing the cookie dough onto the tinfoil covered trays and putting them inside the oven once it was preheated. Now that the both of you had a little time to spare, you would be able to get in that famous girl talk that the both of you were known for. Josh and Tyler knew full well that if they ever interrupted your girl talk time, there would be hell to pay... mostly from Jenna. She was sweet as pie, but she had her moments where she invoked wrath.

"So, are you going to tell me your true feelings now about the Little Drummer Boy in there?" That sentence alone made you roll your eyes harder than you ever had before, as the reference was ridiculous, but you couldn't help but smirk.

"I honestly wish I knew what they were. I mean... I know that I like him. A lot. But, there's just so much going on with Beau and he won't take a hint that I want to break up with him. I really want Josh to be happy and he deserves it, but am I really making him happy here? Stringing him along while I'm dating someone?" you spoke softly, so that the boys wouldn't be able to eavesdrop. Jenna just sighed and took your hands in her own.

"Y/N... what you have right now? It's not a relationship. You both are just existing in the same space. There's no love there. You have a guy in the next room over that would give you the world. He's waited this long for you. He's not going to leave now," Jenna spoke in a similar soft tone.

Tears started to sting at your eyes as they brimmed up, threatening to spill over and down your cheeks. Sniffling slightly, you squeezed her hands and nodded slowly to her, knowing full well that she had never been more right. You pulled one another in for a huge hug and stayed there for a few moments before pulling away as she checked your makeup for smears. Once you were both good, you giggled a bit together and linked arms, heading back into the living room to see the tree all finished. Josh was just putting the finishing touch on the tree: the star. You and Jenna sat on the couch to watch in awe, her sitting beside Tyler and leaving an open space beside you. The four of you gasped as the light of the star turned on after Josh had plugged it in and you all clapped happily at the sight. Josh came out from behind the tree with a goofy grin and bowed before he made his way over and sat beside you on the couch... a little closer than you thought he would.

Swallowing hard, you could tell that something was different about his demeanor. Something was off. Was he nervous? Tyler and Jenna hadn't seemed to notice as they chatted with one another while looking on his cellphone at something funny. Josh’s leg bounced in its spot and his hand tapped on his upper thigh as if beating an imaginary drum, causing you to quirk an eyebrow in his direction.

"You okay there, Dun?" you asked softly, seemingly concerned for him.

"Y-Yeah... I, um, was hoping that we could talk, maybe?" He wouldn't look at you.

"Of course."

With that, Josh quickly got up and motioned for you to follow him, and you did so, heading around to the back part of the house in the hallway. He obviously wanted to get out of earshot of the grinning couple that had remained on the couch behind you. Now standing awkwardly with him, you could tell that he was having a hard time with whatever he was about to say and it made your heart start pounding in your chest.

"So..." he started and you let out a breath of air to silently thank him for breaking the tension. "...Tyler and I have the Grammys coming up and we've been nominated for an award. I was wondering if maybe you'd want to come with me - us. Come with us." He stumbled through his words and it caused a big smile to play on your lips.

"I would love to, Josh." Finally, he looked up to you with a smile that matched the size of your own, suddenly seeming much more confident.

"Great! We'll talk more about it later and I'll give you the details," he said happily and you nodded to him, starting to walk with him back into the living room.

The both of you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw Jenna and Tyler standing there with smug looks on their faces. Josh seemed just as confused as you did. Before you were about to say something to question it, Tyler just pointed up above you to show a newly placed mistletoe decoration. You and Josh stared at it for a few moments, before both of your faces flushed bright red.

"You have to do it. It's tradition," Tyler grinned and nudged Jenna, who was giggling a bit.

Josh looked over to you with a look of fear, not sure what he should actually do in this situation. You decided to take the initiative with what little courage you had and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, before hurrying to your spot on the couch. Josh stood there for a few moments, dazed, and had a very brief look of love that crossed his face. He tried to hide it, but the grin that was permanently on his lips betrayed him.

You were too nervous to meet his eyes when he took a seat next to you on the couch once again, instead opting to rope Jenna into a conversation so you had an excuse to keep your attention elsewhere. Even as the two of you sat discussing the latest episode of your favorite TV show, your mind wouldn’t stop its endless loop of the kiss you had just given Josh. It had been brief, but the feeling of his cheek against your lips was enough to have your hands shaking. Thankfully, your oversized sweater - and Jenna eventually dragging you back to the kitchen - proved to be enough to hide it.

You just hoped that Josh was willing to wait a little longer.

* * * * *

Taglist

@topownsmyheart @faceofcontvsions @ohprettyweeper @tylersheavydirtysoul @svintsandghosts @wearebxnditos @breadbinishigh @patdsinner33 @leam-2001

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andiwantneedlusthenrycavill41482 · 4 years ago

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Part Two For September 28, 2016 Facebook Post. Kind Of Sounds Like Something Ashton Would Have Said.

I felt like I needed to added a Part Two so that I could explain how come I came up with that thought and what was going on around me:

This was around a time 4 years ago, when I was again unemployed for the second that year. My temp job and training for July-August had finished and I was waiting to start my next new temp job. Often I would be up half of the night, go to bed kind of late. I usually spent those nights when I was wide awake like that online or was working on drawing designs. I frequently was at AC Moore either buying tracing paper tablets or thin fine point pen writing permanent markers. Most of the designs I have first done were drawn and done by hand. This was maybe a year before I got and learned how to do Photoshop.

What was going on that particular night though:

Around our house depending on the time of the year, we often have a lot of Deer or Foxes always hanging out in our yard. This particular night, there was a Mother Fox and her Baby outside around the side of our front porch and she was howling. If you never have heard a Red Fox howl before, some people would say that it sounds like someone is screaming as if they were being murdered. I describe it sounding like a Demon that had just been Exorcised from a person fleeing in anger.

Before I had flipped on Dracula, I was watching something on True Crime Identity network on TV that was about some homicide case. That didn't help considering the fact, the Fox's howls just made me jumpy and a little paranoid that someone was outside (Another thing that I should not mix with after 12 AM). I'm a Criminal Justice, Behavior Science major, I've probably have had read one to many books on homicide cases and serial killers. I'm Autistic as well, so I have a Really Vivid Graphic Detail Visual Picture Like, Overactive imagination and I sometimes can scare and freak myself out. Unfortunately, that has been proven true back when I started to really study Psychology and serial killers. Let's just say when I had been getting into studying Ted Bundy and was learning some of the most disturbing aspects about him, I dug myself deep enough where I was able to hit a nerve with a Vivid Image that involved him and one of his victims who was the same height as me.

I had a common experience during the Summer of 2000, when I was 18. Before I had ever seen The Exorcist for the first time, I wanted to read the movie script so I would have some idea what to expect and prepare myself for. The Exorcist had a Theater rerelease during September 2000 for the film's 27th anniversary. Did it help, yes in a way it did. Big Mistake was deciding I wanted to read it so late at night that I ended up freaking myself out. As a result I was so jumpy that night and so loud when my bed had banged against my bedroom wall it woke my mom up to ask me what in the hell was going on. Before I ever saw the movie, I was freaking scared of this movie for over 4 years. At first I mostly was scared and freaked out because of the "Supposed scary" headspin and Regan's face when she's demonically possessed. Also to be safe, I went to see it during the Matinee when it was the day. It took a lot of guts for me to even go see it for the first time like this. I thankfully didn't have a anxiety attack or panic attack. I also didn't go see it alone.

I wanted to kick myself when I was watching the movie since that was the least of the scariest, freakiest scenes from the movie. If you had no idea behind how they did the close up shot of the demon's face, I didn't at the time, that was what had been the scariest,freakiest scenes in the movie. By than I felt like this freaking moron when I had realised that for over the last 4 years, I had been scared of a "Stupid, freaking life size head dummy". Also the "hype" people made about that scene was like when I saw the "shower scene" in the 1962 Original Psycho kind of a let down and not really scary. I didn't get what the hype had been about. Since it was 2000 then, when you watch that scene, compared to someone back in 1973 you could see how laughable it was and tell that this a lifesize dummy that was used. It sat up you than hear a Reck sound as the head did a quick full 360 spin followed by a rattle.

#A 2016 Facebook Post memory Chat Part 2 #Maybe something Ashton Irwin might have said #random 1 am thoughts #One of the many reasons why I shouldn't even turn on or flip on a horror movie during these hours of the night #Get freaked out so easily with my wild vivid imagination #the exorcist #when movies scenes in movies the get hyped up aren't even worth the hype and are a let down #pschology #criminal justice #behavior science #ted bundy #autistic #Really Vivid Graphic Detail Visual Like Picture Overactive Imagination #What A Fox howl sounds like

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firebrands · 5 years ago

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Anthropocene: 2016 (Steve/Tony, soulmate au, civil war fix-it)

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, T, MCU / soulmate AU / Civil War fix-it, 4.6k words, chapter 8/8 | previous chapters | also on ao3

***

Steve wakes up with a jolt and reaches out to his side. His hand hits air, lands ungracefully on the pale gray sheets of the anonymous bed. He rolls to his side and sighs, wondering why he was expecting anything other than emptiness.

Still, the images are clear in his mind: Tony’s hand in his, Tony’s lips on his, Tony, Tony, Tony. It felt too real to be a dream, each moment clicking into place, but—that’s all they were. Dreams.

He didn’t want to believe those images, those visions, were anything more. But there’s an ache in his chest that’s only gotten worse since these visions started.

Steve mindlessly heads towards the bathroom, splashes water on his face, cataloguing every detail from this last dream. Tony had blue eyes, again, and there was something about a tumor. They were in love, and Steve had proposed. Steve rests his hands on the sink and stares at himself in the mirror as he thinks, remembers, and relishes in those thoughts. He sees something in the corner of his vision and he startles so badly that his hand slips from the sink and he nearly knocks his head against the porcelain.

Steve whips his head around and looks around the room. Just then, he had seen Tony, lying on the bed, raising a hand to his face to rub the sleep from his eyes. Steve splashes water on his face again and shakes away the thought, resolves not to give these dreams any more time than he already has.

Except, the visions get worse: Tony leaning on the counter, drinking a cup of coffee. Tony sitting on the couch, tapping away at a tablet. Tony waiting for him when the elevator opens.

He’s been so on edge from looking over his shoulder the whole day that he spills water on himself when Natasha asks if he’s okay.

“Yes,” Steve says, struggling to keep his voice calm as he wipes the front of his shirt down with a paper towel. “I’m fine.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow in response, disbelief plain on her face.

“Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Steve says lamely.

Steve spends the rest of the afternoon holed up in his room, trying and failing to read a book. It’s just that, in the corner of his eye, he can see Tony, blurry still, but there: sitting across him, reading a piece of paper.

He’s figured it out now, somewhat. These strange visions of Tony are only ever present if he’s not really looking, so he fights down the instinct to turn his head when Tony slams the paper down on the table and buries his face in his hands. Steve swallows hard, fights down the wild need to reach over and hold him close, because he knows full well that it’s nothing. It’s nothing.

Instead, Steve turns away, digs around his desk for a clean sheet of paper, and begins to write.

Tony’s alone in his room but even then, he’s not going to admit that his hands are shaking. He fumbles a little as he tries to find the catch in the envelope, eventually settling with ripping it open.

He bites his lip and briefly considers just throwing the letter away; what’s left to be said, after everything? Surely he can’t hope to fix things now, this is what he wanted, after all. Still, this morning, Tony had nearly jumped out of his skin when he thought he saw Steve sitting at the breakfast table, eating cereal like he always did.

Tony tightens his jaw and unfolds the letter within. He only realizes he was holding his breath when all the air rushes out of him when he finishes reading.

He reads it again, and he’s alone, he’s alone, he’s alone, and he slams the letter down onto the desk, buries his face in his hands, and wills himself not to scream.

Tony—

I’m glad you’re back at the compound. I don’t like the idea of you rattling around the mansion by yourself. We all need family, and I know they’re taking care of you. I’ve been thinking about you, and I hope you’re doing well.

I’m sorry, Tony. I’m sorry that I lied to you, and I’m sorry that I hurt you. I convinced myself that by not telling you, I was sparing you of that pain, but I see now that I was really sparing myself from a difficult conversation—one of many, that I should’ve been brave enough to have with you.

So here I am. I’m trying to be brave.

I want to let you know that I’ve been having dreams about you, visions, even, and something in my gut is telling me that things shouldn’t be this way. I think maybe there was a reason we were always arguing, always butting heads. Maybe there was a reason that out of everyone in the room, I’d stop and listen to you. The irony isn’t lost on me, especially after everything that led us to this point.

I’ll be in Canada three days from now, in the cabin we stayed in while Nat and Clint did recon on that Hydra base. I know I don’t have any right asking anything of you, but I hope to see you there.

Steve

Tony keeps his head in his hands and does his best not to claw at his own face, instead focuses on taking deep breaths. Surely, Steve knew he’d go, of course he would. Even after everything, against his better judgment (not that there was much of that to go around), he’d still drop everything for Steve.

He refuses to think about what that says about him.

Tony’s rolling his eyes at himself as he throws some clothes into a suitcase. He continues to roll his eyes at himself as he walks toward the chopper. Tony’s rolled his eyes at himself so many times he barely notices Steve sitting in the living room, writing.

Tony stops, does a double take, and as expected, there’s nothing there. He thinks he should be a bit more alarmed over these sudden delusions, but it’s not high on the list of things he should be worried about — because on the top of that list is Rhodey, sitting on the couch, his brows knotted together as he looks at Tony, waiting for him to explain himself.

“I’m just going to a thing,” Tony says, waving his hand around imperiously. He knows it won’t work, but he tries it anyway, just in case this is the first time it does.

Rhodey continues to frown at him.

“I’ll be back in like. A week, or something,” Tony says. “FRIDAY’ll update you, won’t you, Fri?”

“I will,” FRIDAY intones graciously.

“See.”

“You really don’t want backup for this, Tones?” Rhodey asks, and of course he knows what’s happening.

“Can’t see what else he could do,” Tony laughs mirthlessly, and Rhodey winces.

“I’m coming with you,” Rhodey says, moving to stand.

“No,” Tony says, resting a hand on Rhodey’s shoulder and pushing him back onto the couch. “You’re not, platypus. It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

Rhodey takes a deep breath. “Daily updates,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice that Tony isn’t willing to test.

“Yessir,” Tony says, throwing Rhodey a lazy salute as he saunters out the door. “I’ll be good! I love you!”

Tony runs a hectare-wide scan around the cabin before he sets down the chopper, mollified by the lack of any human activity. He’s glad he made it there first, just because it gives him as much of an upper hand that’s possible in a situation he’s already lost.

The cabin’s dusty with misuse, and Tony knows this is why Steve chose this place: no else one knows this cabin, and no one ever will.

Try as they might, they’re both sentimental at heart, and it’s things like this that give them away. This was where the dam had broken, when they’d finally seen each other for who they were, with the help of a broken heater and cabin fever. They spent a week here, alone together, at first snapping at each other like they always did, until Tony cooked soup and Steve tried and failed to build a fire.

Tony remembers how he and Steve scooted close together in one of the beds, Tony shivering in the cold. He remembers how he cursed the old radiator, how he seriously considered scavenging the armor for parts if it meant the safety of being away from Steve. Even then, his want scared him. Turns out he was right to fear it, because here he is, except now he’s brought the tools and parts to actually fix the damn thing.

He’d laugh at the metaphor, but it isn’t apt; he knows that there are some things that are simply irreparable. To assume otherwise is stupid. So why was he here? Even he can’t answer that question, and he doesn’t want to, anyway.

Tony’s elbow deep in the innards of the radiator when he hears the doorknob jiggle.

“Tony?”

Tony extricates himself from the heater and sits on his haunches. He briefly considers not saying anything and just leaving Steve outside.

“Tony, that is you, right?” It’s so quiet that Tony can hear Steve’s annoyed sigh. It gives him a small glimmer of pleasure amidst the panic of figuring out what he’ll say to Steve once he does decide to open the door.

Tony sits for a bit longer, not really knowing why he’s not opening the door, but not knowing why he should anyway.

In the corner of his eye, he sees that Steve has taken to pacing outside of the cabin, massaging his temples with one hand.

Tony realizes this is the best moment to open the door—there’s enough space between them that if needed, he can slam it shut. Not that Steve couldn’t break down the door if he wanted to, but he hasn’t yet, so Tony hopes it doesn’t come to that.

He should’ve known better to trust his periphery, after a whole day of seeing Steve in it. He lets out a small, surprised sound when he opens the door and Steve falls flat on the ground from where he was leaning against the wood.

They stare at each other for a second, surprised by each other’s presence and surprised at how suddenly, the world is bursting with color. Everything feels new, and full, and complete.

Steve reaches up and pulls Tony down into a kiss that Tony doesn’t even think to refuse.

They kiss like two drowned men fighting for air, pulling closer and closer until they’re flush against each other, Tony on top of Steve, lying down on the floor.

They break away and stare at each other in shock. Tony lifts himself up off Steve and stands.

“Okay, wow,” he says.

Steve touches his lips in wonder, and then catches himself. He stands up and dusts himself off.

“Tony,” he says, by way of belated greeting.

Tony clears his throat. “Steve.”

“Can I come in?” Steve asks, and Tony wants to laugh because just a few seconds ago they were kissing, they were swapping spit like teenagers and now Steve’s asking if he can come inside? There’s a crass joke there that Tony aches to make, but it feels easier to just pretend it didn’t happen.

Tony takes a step back and holds the door open. Steve nods at him as he enters the cabin, and now they’re standing in the foyer in total silence.

Tony realizes how desperately he does not want to discuss this, any of this. “Do you want something to eat?” he asks.

“I can whip something up,” Steve says, and walks towards the kitchen.

Tony sighs, grateful that at least for now, they’re on the same page about putting this off. He heads back towards the radiator and picks up where he left off.

Steve stares at Tony’s door and takes a deep breath. It’s his fifth, now, and he’d taken quite a few just willing up the courage to go upstairs. Tony had said something earlier about taking a shower, and he’s been inside the bathroom for half an hour, at this point. Steve irrationally thinks that Tony knows he’s there, outside, waiting to talk to him.

Steve raises his hand to knock on the door when it swings open.

They stare at each other for a second—they’ve been doing that a lot, over the course of the day, when they’d just catch each other’s eyes, and then quickly look away. Steve tries to avert his gaze only to notice the towel wrapped around Tony’s waist.

“We should talk,” Steve grinds out.

“Maybe not,” Tony says, then closes the door.

Steve frowns. “Tony.”

“No.”

Steve thunks his head against the wooden door. “Please, Tony,” he says. “At least let me know if it wasn’t just me—if you saw the same things—”

Tony throws the door open. He’s still in a towel. “I didn’t just see them, Steve. I lived them.”

Steve takes an involuntary step back as Tony takes a step forward.

“I don’t want to think about this anymore,,” Tony says, walking towards the bedroom. “I don’t know why I came here. It’s done.”

“But it’s not,” Steve says, grabbing Tony’s wrist with the hope of stopping him. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Tony turns to Steve before shaking off his grip. “Steve, I have the right to arrest you. So maybe it is.”

For the third time that day, Tony shuts the door on Steve’s face.

Steve stops in his tracks when he enters the cabin. It smells like bacon. He cautiously pads inside and smiles to himself when he sees Tony, standing by the stove.

“You’re still here,” he breathes out, relieved.

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Tony says dryly.

“And you’re cooking,” Steve laughs.

“It’s a Christmas miracle.”

Steve hoists himself up on the counter and watches Tony cook fondly.

“So how did you think this conversation would go?” Tony asks without looking up at Steve.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Tony snorts.

“Have you been seeing—” Steve chews on his lip as he thinks of the best way to word it “—have you been seeing me, even when I’m not there?”

Tony nods defeatedly. “I hate this,” he says.

Steve nods in agreement. “You think there’s an explanation to all this?” he asks.

“I don’t know, Steve,” Tony says testily. “I’m as lost as you are.”

“Sorry,” Steve murmurs. He follows Tony towards the dining table and pours Tony a cup of coffee before he pours one for himself. “I was hoping you’d know.”

“Well I don’t,” Tony says, before taking a bite of his breakfast.

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Let’s start over,” he says. “First of all, I’m sorry that I lied about Bucky and your parents,” he says. He’s surprised his voice doesn’t crack when he says it, but his heart is hammering against his chest and his vision is a little cloudy. “I know I said it in the letter, but I wanted to say it in person, too. I’m sorry. I wish I’d done it differently, but I didn't, and I hurt you. I hope that someday you can forgive me.”

Tony exhales loudly. “Really?” he says, pushing his chair back as he stands abruptly. “Over breakfast ?”

“There doesn’t seem to be a right time to do it!” Steve snaps.

“Maybe because you were going to fucking kill me!” Tony shouts. “Do you realize how fucking crazy it is that I’m here right now?”

“I do!”

“Good!”

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome!”

They stare at each other, breathing hard.

“This is insane,” Tony says quietly as he turns on his heel and leaves.

Tony isn’t surprised that Steve finds him standing by the lake, staring at the murky green water. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? How they find each other, despite everything.

Steve stands beside him quietly, hands clasped behind his back.

Tony groans in annoyance. “So where do we start?” he asks, finally. He feels bound by this place, and bound to Steve. Maybe this is what it’ll take to finally be able to leave.

Steve shrugs. “You wanna head inside for this?” he asks.

“No,” Tony responds quickly. “I’d much rather have all this space to run away from you,” he adds with a hollow laugh.

Steve nods and seems to steel himself before saying, “I’m sorry we didn’t agree on the accords.”

Tony feels his eyes bug out. “Wow,” he exclaims. “No beating around the bush or anything.”

Steve shrugs again. “I’d like to get a word in before you run away from me again,” he says, smiling a little as if to let Tony know he’s teasing.

Tony laughs, feeling faint. “Just like that, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well. I’m sorry too, that you don’t agree with me. I wish you did.”

“I know.”

They’re quiet for a moment. A flock of birds fly overhead. This place is too beautiful, Tony thinks idly.

“Have you thought about them, since then?” Tony asks.

“Yes.”

“Have you changed your mind?”

“Have you?”

“That’s fair.”

“But—I’ll think about them some more. If that’s okay.”

“It is.”

The conversation feels stilted and clipped, and of course it is. Tony finds himself wishing for an easy out, wishing that one of them would find the right string of words to just make everything okay again.

Beside him, Steve shifts his weight from one foot to the other, takes a deep breath, and then assumes parade rest.

Tony wants to laugh because it’s so obvious that Steve’s about to bring up something difficult, and wants to cry because damn him for still knowing Steve that well.

“I’d like us to talk about the visions,” Steve says, staring at the lake.

Tony sighs. “I think we were figuring them out, towards the end,” he says, glancing at Steve to measure his reaction.

Steve nods, all military efficiency, as if this were a tactical operation and not a conversation. Tony figures that it’s natural for them to fall into what’s easiest, because everything right now is so fucking difficult. Certainly explains why he’s been tugging his hand back from rubbing at his chest, worried about being as telling with his movements as Steve.

“They followed a certain pattern,” Steve says, and he looks at Tony. “And I think it meant to lead us to this.”

Tony frowns. “Is that why you wrote the letter?” he asks. “Did you feel like the universe was telling you something?”

The tips of Steve’s lips turn down in a frown and Tony hates that he regrets not keeping the sarcasm from his tone.

“Like I said, Tony. It made me realize that there were conversations I should’ve had with you that I was too afraid to start. But it feels like it’s better late than never.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “And now you’re going to tell me you love me, is that it?”

Steve startles, then regains his composure almost immediately.

“Tony, in all those dreams, in all those lives, we let ourselves love each other. Maybe it’s a disservice to each other that we’re not letting ourselves do that now,” he says.

“That’s a nice thought, Steve,” Tony turns away and looks around at the trees, the patches of sunlight filtering down and turning the grass gold. “But I wish you’d thought of that before you did everything you did.”

They’re silent for a while, listening to the sound of life burgeoning around them. It brings a strange dissonance.

Tony looks up when he sees Steve turn to him.

“I know,” Steve says softly. “I wish I’d said so, sooner. But it’s the truth. I love you, Tony. I’ve loved you for a long time but I was never brave enough to say it.”

Tony shakes his head, looking away from Steve’s piercing gaze. “But not enough, right?”

Tony takes a deep breath before he continues: “Even after the universe telling us that we should just fuck already. Even if I see visions of you every waking moment that we’re not physically together. Even if in all those dreams we shared we made it work…” Tony pauses to massage his temples in an attempt to stave off a headache.

“Whatever you feel—it’s not enough. Not really. That’s why we’re here. That’s why you’re just going to think about the accords but not actually sign them.”

Steve steps into Tony’s line of sight, as if insisting on his presence. “That’s not what love is about, Tony.”

Tony shakes his head to clear it of any sentimentality. “I don’t see what else there is to talk about.”

The sun’s high in the sky now, and it’s almost noon. Tony wishes he’d brought a tumbler with some coffee. Maybe even an Irish coffee. He wishes he’d eaten more of his breakfast, and drank some water before heading out. He wishes a lot of things, really, but not all of them deserve to be named.

“Can we take a recess on this?” he asks, running a hand through his hair, exhaustion suddenly weighing on him as heavy as the pollinated air.

Steve sighs and says, “Okay.”

They prepare lunch in silence, and sit beside each other on the sofa as they let the indistinct noise of the radio wash over them.

Steve washes the dishes and Tony makes them another pot of coffee.

Tony stares at the coffee percolating and wants to scream at how easy it is between them, how painfully domestic and wonderful, how he could’ve had this, how maybe, maybe, maybe, he still could.

“Tony,” Steve says softly, calling him out of his thoughts.

“Please, Steve, just leave it,” Tony says, not looking up from the pot.

“I know it’s going to take a lot to gain your trust back,” Steve says. “I know it’s going to take a lot to get you to even look at me for more than ten seconds. But—”

Tony glances up at Steve, surprised by the abrupt pause. Their eyes meet briefly, and then Tony looks back down.

“But I’d like to try, if you’d let me.”

Tony seriously considers pouring the boiling coffee on himself just to end this conversation, and what does that say about him? What does it fucking say?

Tony laughs mirthlessly. “I seriously just considered pouring this shit on me to get away from this conversation,” he says, still laughing a little, and maybe he’s about to cry but nobody has to know that.

“Please don’t,” Steve says gently, and takes a few cautious steps toward Tony, as if to ensure that he doesn’t.

Tony whirls around and looks at Steve, overwhelmed by the emotion bursting forth from inside him at the sudden tenderness. “What’s the point?” he shouts. “What’s the fucking point?” His hands fly up to his hair on their own accord, and he’s about to start pulling when Steve takes his hands in his and he grips them tight.

“I think the point is that we’re meant to be together, Tony.”

Tony snatches his hands away from Steve’s. “Don’t fucking spout that feel good bullshit on me, Rogers. Do you understand the statistical probabilities of us just hurting each other, over and over again? Do you recognize the extreme likelihood that I’ll fuck it up?” Tony’s breathing is labored and tears are stinging his eyes. He looks away, hoping that Steve can’t tell. “Let’s just save ourselves the trouble and walk away while we can,” he says quietly.

“You know,” Steve says, and he takes a step back as he gives Tony room to breathe. “In all those dreams, I think we did hurt each other, and that’s part of the risk of caring for someone, isn’t it? That we probably will hurt each other again, and I’m not saying it’s okay, or that I’m expecting it, it’s just, that’s the way it is. But that fear of hurt, of being hurt and of hurting, it’s not a good enough reason for me to ever stop caring for you.” Steve swallows. “For me to ever stop loving you.”

Tony’s cheeks are wet and he will not admit that he’s crying, but he is, he is absolutely crying and he hates it with every fiber of his being. He knows, he knows better than to believe this, knows better than to bet on it.

But then again, Tony’s always been about taking stupid risks. And this might be the one risk that’s worth taking, and doesn’t that make it the stupidest one of all?

Tony sags against the wall and buries his face in his hands.

He hears Steve walk toward him, feels his presence crouched down in front of him.

Tony focuses on his breathing, surprised by how soothing it feels just to have Steve breathe along with him.

“Can I hold you?” Steve asks.

Tony nods, and breathes in as Steve bundles him up in his arms. Their cheeks are pressed against one another’s and Steve murmurs apologies as Tony continues to walk himself out of a panic attack.

They stay huddled together like that for what feels like hours until eventually, Tony pulls away and gazes at Steve.

Steve bites his lip, then says, “I love you, Tony.”

Tony nods, and they untangle themselves and stand. Tony heads up to the bedroom and pauses mid-step to look back at Steve, who’s standing at the foot of the stairs, a small, hopeful smile on his lips.

Tony turns away before Steve sees the same smile mirrored on his lips.

Tony wakes up the next morning to the sound of a car engine starting.

He’s not thinking when he throws open the door and runs down the stairs, and he yelps as he nearly crashes into Steve.

“I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye,” Steve says, and looks a bit embarrassed. “It’s just a diesel engine and I was worried about the chill.”

“You would,” Tony says, laughing despite himself.

Steve’s smile shifts from embarrassed to pleased at the sound of Tony’s laugh, and Tony’s struck by how beautiful it is, to do that to someone.

He hates that he wishes he could do it all the time.

“Anyway,” Steve says after a moment. “I wanted to give you this.” He pulls out a prehistoric phone from his pocket.

“For me to donate to a museum?”

Steve laughs a little. “No, to call me,” he says, and Tony’s half-annoyed and half-enamored at how earnest Steve sounds.

Tony takes the phone gingerly, and tucks it into his pocket.

“I know we haven’t really figured things out,” Steve says, and his hands move jerkily from his side as if he was going to touch Tony but thought better of it. “But I wanted to let you know that I’m not giving up on you, Tony. I think I’ve made myself clear about how I feel, and I want to give you the space to think about everything I’ve said.”

Tony nods, doesn’t trust himself to speak.

Steve nods back at him, then, this time, he does reach out to touch Tony, resting his hand on Tony’s wrist.

Tony takes a small step forward, eyes locked on Steve’s, and he raises his hand to cup Steve’s jaw.

Steve smiles at him, a small, secret thing, just like the emotion slowly unfurling between them. Tony smiles back, closes his eyes, and finally, in this universe, kisses Steve.

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #steve rogers #tony stark #soulmate au #civil war fix-it #civil war fic #stevetony fanfic #things i write #anthropocene #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I FINALLY FINISHED THIS IT WAS DIFFICULT TO WRITE AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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ophiedokes · 5 years ago

Note

Middle Mellark brother head canons?

Secret confession is I don’t care about middle mellark in canon at all because there’s truly nothing to go on, but I am fuckin obsessed with him in JLH so I’m gonna answer about him lmfao. I almost wrote an entire spinoff fic about Rye and Klaus back in like 2016 and then obviously didn’t. So here’s. What I had in mind for that.

He looks like this

He was randomly assigned a roommate in college, Klaus Armand, who looks like this

of course “college roommates” looks a lot different in the Capitol than what we would be used to, so what this really meant was they had what anyone else would consider to be a pretty spacious two bedroom apartment that they split on the college campus

So they had plenty of space away from each other, but Rye spent like every waking moment in the kitchen/living room so that he could catch Klaus on his way in or out and be like “Hey dude!” and Klaus would be like “Hey!” and that was mostly it at first

Rye pined after Klaus for what felt like forever but was like, a semester and a half.

Klaus totally knew that Rye had a thing for him but he had just gotten into the Capitol college on scholarship and he didn’t want to waste time focusing on anything other than his schoolwork, but Rye had him perfectly matched in terms of sarcastic humor, which Klaus didn’t feel like his classmates really understood.

Klaus also took to walking from the bathroom to the kitchen in just his towel when he knew Rye was hanging around (which was. Often.) just because of how Rattled he always was when he would do that.

Klaus brought home a dude he was in class with, and Rye assumed that they were dating and was like, “Okay, at least I know he’s gay,” and was a little devastated at the idea of having to like, hang around while Klaus was obviously Hanging Out with Some Other Guy and when the dude left, Rye was super obviously jealous

Which Klaus found incredibly endearing

And when Rye rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, whatever, we never said you couldn’t bring people home” Klaus was like,

“And what, you don’t bring people home out of respect for me?”

and Rye was so angry but also like. Totally caught.

He hadn’t been dating anyone since he moved in with Klaus. So Rye sputtered and was like, “So maybe I do. Whatever.”

And Klaus said, “Maybe you don’t.”

and then pushed him against the wall and kissed him.

Klaus is taller than Rye and way more solid/broad. And grew up doing manual labor where Rye is wiry and skinny and lanky.

And Rye’s type before had always been, like, somewhat visually similar people. Usually pretty androgynous. Peeta says in the funeral chapter that Rye has dated “men and women and people who identified somewhere in between.”

but god, he’s never dated anyone like Klaus before.

The first time they have sex, Rye buries his face in the mattress and says,

“I love you.”

and then he says,

“Fuck. Sorry. I don’t mean that.”

Klaus teases him about it forever.

During their wedding, right after Klaus’s heartfelt and beautiful wedding vows, he slides the ring onto Rye’s finger and says,

“Fuck. Sorry. I don’t mean that.”

And Rye just kind of swats at him with his left hand, ring barely even on. It’s all so quiet that even later when people watch the video of the ceremony, they don’t see what happened.

They’re together for about three and a half years before they start the process of adopting Cordelia

Klaus has always known he wanted children.

He was the oldest of seven and helped his mother with all the raising, because his father had to work so much.

Rye was harder to convince. On account of the whole Shitty Childhood of it all.

But then they went home to visit Klaus’s family and Rye watched the way his husband was with all his nieces and nephews, and he just. Laced their fingers together on the train home and said, “Okay. Yeah.”

Cordelia’s biological mother was a scared, poor teenage girl named Beatrice

She put the baby up for adoption before she was even born, and some wealthy Capitolite couple said they wanted her right away. They paid all of her medical expenses during the pregnancy.

And then never came to pick up the baby.

Beatrice couldn’t raise a child on her own. She had never agreed to that, either. The pregnancy was challenging enough, and her parents were insistent that she finish high school.

The Capitolite couple also never signed the forms releasing Cordelia to be adopted by anyone else.

She was in the Community Home/Orphanage until she was about three.

Klaus knew Beatrice. Only incidentally. She would be the friend of one of his nieces. On their next visit to Four, to visit the Community Home, he heard the story from Beatrice’s friend.

Because Rye wanted a baby from Four. A baby who would look like his husband.

And it’s so much harder to find a home for an older child than for a newborn.

And the Mellarks had so much money.

Enough to pay off the Capitolite couple who hadn’t even really remembered the commitment they made to this beautiful baby girl

Who really did look like Klaus

and who caught both the Armand-Mellark’s hearts in both her tiny hands.

Cordelia trusted Klaus immediately.

He looked like home, and he spoke in her first language, and he had so much more experience with children.

As opposed to Rye. who was. Stiff and awkward and did not remember much about what Peeta was like at that age.

Peeta, who had such a different childhood.

who never knew what it felt like to be hungry

who was unwanted, but not the same way Cordelia was

Rye was stiff around Cordelia. Afraid of fucking up. Afraid of being like his parents. Either. Both.

And so afraid, because of how often she would just take off.

One time he called the peacekeepers in a panic and had half the neighborhood outside looking for her.

She was asleep under his bed.

It wasn’t ever that he didn’t love her. He always loved her so much that it terrified him. But the Mellarks don’t know how to express that, generally.

So he mostly just fussed over whether or not she was safe.

Which drove Klaus up a fucking wall. He always told him to be the fun parent.

Cordelia calls Klaus Père months before she ever calls Rye Pa

and, god

Rye has been mostly kidding for months about his kid not liking him.

But the relief he feels in that moment

when he’s picking her up from kindergarten and she turns to whoever her new friend is and says, “I gotta go. That’s my Pa.”

he just

bursts into tears.

And brings her out for ice cream on the way home even though Klaus already has dinner almost finished.

And she plasters herself against Klaus’s side and offers him a bite of her ice cream and says, “we got ice cream,” and Klaus is all

“God you had to be the fun parent the night we’re gonna have to fight to get her to eat dinner, huh?”

and Rye is just like.

“The fun Pa.”

and then he’s crying again.

And Cordelia absolutely does not understand why. But she’s excited about her ice cream.

#JLH #Rye/Klaus #Rye x Klaus

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cristinablackthornkingson · 6 years ago

Text

Shadowhunters Short 43 Story #

Just want to quickly say, the start of this story is inspired by a post by @justkillthetitan!

It is a bitterly cold January day in 2016 when Kit Herondale steps out of the portal and into the LA Institute, with his youngest sister Charlotte in his arms. Charlotte is 10 months old now and loves spending time with her big brother, just as Mina does. Kit has agreed to watch Charlotte for the day while his parents go up to London for a day trip. Kit offered to watch Mina too but she wanted to go to Magnus and Alec’s and play with Rafael and Max. This morning Kit decided to take Charlotte to the LA Institute so he could spend time with Ty and she could play with Mark, Kieran and Cristina’s daughter Amelia, as well as Helen and Aline’s daughter Rosie, who is just a few months younger than Charlotte.

When Kit steps out of the portal and into the foyer of The Institute, he takes a minute to catch his breath and make sure that Charlotte is alright, before heading off to the drawing room where Ty usually is. When he steps into the drawing room, he sees Mark sitting on the sofa, holding baby Rosie over his head and laughing as she giggles and squeals with delight.

“Hey Mark, where’s Millie?” Kit asks, shutting the door behind him and adjusting Charlotte in his arms.

“Napping upstairs, what are you doing here?” Mark asks, lowering Rosie into his lap.

“I came to see Ty and Dru, are they here?” Kit asks, looking around for his boyfriend and best friend.

“No I’m afraid not, they all got called out on a mission, I volunteered to stay and watch the kids, Tavvy is meant to be helping me but I’m not sure where he went.” Mark replies in an amused tone, looking around for his little brother.

“Oh, do you know if they’ll be back soon?” Kit asks.

“They should be, it wasn’t anything serious, just a couple of lesser demons, really only a few of them had to go but Ty insisted on going because he’s a Centurion, Dru goes wherever Ty goes, Emma and Julian were the ones initially called out and then Cristina wanted to go with them to be extra back up and Aline and Helen wanted to make sure Ty and Dru didn’t do anything stupid.” Mark explains. Kit grins, that certainly sounds like The Blackthorns.

“Is it alright if I stay and wait for Ty and Dru?” Kit asks, hoping Mark wouldn’t mind the company.

“Of course, where are Tessa and Jem, and little Mina”? Mark asks as Kit takes a seat next to him on the sofa.

“Mum and dad went up to London for the day and Mina’s with Magnus and Alec, she wanted to play with Rafe and Max, so it’s just me and Charlotte today, I thought it would be nice for her to play with Amelia and Rosie and I could see Ty and Dru.” Kit says, smiling down at his baby sister in his lap, who is now watching him with her big grey eyes, full of curiosity.

“Has Charlotte said her first words yet, or started walking?” Mark asks, secretly wanting to brag about how Rosie said her first words yesterday and seems to be well on her way to walking.

“Not yet but she’s crawling like hell, she’s the fastest little thing I’ve ever seen.” Kit says, kissing Charlotte’s cheek, causing her to laugh in delight.

“My Amelia is walking no problem now and little miss Rosie here probably won’t be too far behind her, she’s probably going to get fed up of crawling soon.” Mark says, smiling proudly at his little niece, who he adores as much as he adores his own daughter. Helen and Aline are wonderful mothers and it makes him so happy to see Helen so happy after all she went through.

“Is that so?” Kit quietly says, an idea springing to mind. “Hey do you think it would be kind of terrible and exploitative to have them have a crawling race?” Kit cautiously asks. When Mina had been learning to crawl he always set up obstacles for her to get through, Tessa once joked that she wasn’t a show pony but she knew that Kit was just trying to entertain his sister and get her to do the best she can.

“Yeah kind of.” Mark quietly replies.

“Oh okay.” Kit says in a defeated tone. There is a brief pause before he grins and says “Let’s do it anyway!” Mark grins at him and nods.

“Alright, but you can’t tell Helen and Aline, Aline will murder me.” Mark says in a joking tone.

“I won’t tell but I can’t promise they won’t.” Kit lightly says, nodding to the other end of the room where the ghosts of Livvy and Will have appeared. Will winks at him and holds a finger to his lips, as if telling him to be quiet.

“Who?” Mark asks in a confused tone, looking to where Kit is indicating but seeing nothing.

“Livvy and Uncle Will, Livvy is like Rosie’s ghostly nanny and Uncle Will is always checking in on me and the girls.” Kit explains. Since getting to know Will and hearing more stories about him from Jem and Tessa, Kit has taken to calling him ‘Uncle Will’ which Will loves and so do Tessa and Jem.

“Livvy’s here?” Mark softly asks, wishing he could see his sister.

“Yeah she is, I talk to her all the time Mark, she’s okay, she’s happy, have you ever seen Amelia laughing and talking to what seems to be thin air?” Kit asks in a gentle tone. Mark nods and says

“Yeah but Cristina, Kier and I always thought she was just talking and laughing to herself, the twins did that a lot when they were babies.”

“Well Amelia is seeing her Aunty Livvy, Livvy loves her nieces so much and is always looking out for them.” Kit gently explains.

“I’m glad she’s happy.” Mark quietly says.

“Anyway enough talk about ghosts, let’s start this race!” Kit exclaims, placing Charlotte on the floor at his feet. “Whoever reaches the other side of the room first wins, deal?” Kit asks, keeping a hold on Charlotte so she doesn’t go racing off before the race actually starts.

“Deal.” Mark says, setting Rosie down beside Charlotte. A few seconds later both boys let go of the babies who start rapidly crawling toward the other side of the room, where Livvy and Will are each coaxing their niece.

“Come on Lottie, come to Uncle Will, come here my sweet girl!” Will coos to his niece, crouching down and holding his arms out for her.

“Rosie come on, come to Aunty Livvy sweetheart, come on!” Livvy coos to Rosie, beckoning her toward her.

“Hey Kit, why is Rosie's’ rattle floating all of a sudden?” Mark asks in a confused tone, as he notices the toy start to levitate in mid air. Kit looks to where Mark is pointing and gasps.

“Hey Livvy that’s not fair! That’s cheating!” Kit exclaims.

“Told you they’d notice.” Will says to Livvy in an amused tone. Livvy grins and shrugs.

“It was worth a try!”

Just as little Charlotte has almost reached her Uncle Will, something else catches her attention and instead of crawling straight ahead, she turns and starts crawling left.

“No!” Kit exclaims. Charlotte had been so close, what could have distracted her?

Suddenly a small woman with flowing light brown hair and serious brown eyes appears, dressed in a long flowing yellow gown. Charlotte grins up at her and reaches for her. The woman smiles softly at Kit’s little sister and picks her up, settling her in her arms with a kiss to her cheek.

“William Herondale, Livia Blackthorn, are you really racing your baby nieces against each other?” The woman asks in a firm voice with a hint of amusement.

“No! It wasn’t our idea Charlotte, it was Kit’s!” Will exclaims, pointing to his young nephew.

“Betrayed by my own Uncle! You tell-tale Uncle Will!” Kit exclaims.

“What is going on?” Mark ask in a tone of confusion.

“Can you see her?” Kit asks, turning to look at Mark, who has gone pale with shock.

“Yeah I can, who is she?” Mark asks. The woman smiles softly at Mark and Kit and says

“I am Charlotte Fairchild, this little ones namesake. I practically raised your father, Kit and your Uncle Will.”

“Charlotte Fairchild? The first female Consul?” Mark asks in a tone of awe. Charlotte smiles at him and nods.

“That’s right, heard about me in your history lessons have you?” She says. Mark nods, at loss for words. He and Helen and always admired Charlotte Fairchild when they were growing up, they thought she was so amazing and strong and both wanted to be just like her.

“So did you just come here to tell off Uncle Will and Livvy?” Kit asks in an amused tone.

“Mostly, but I wanted to see my beautiful little niece too.” Charlotte says, smiling brightly at the baby in her arms.

“Do I have to call you Aunty Lottie?” Kit asks. He wouldn’t mind having an Aunt, even if she is a ghost.

“You don’t have to, but you can if you like. Now Christopher come take your sister, I have to go.” Charlotte gently says.

“Will you be back? Will you come see us at home?” Kit asks, taking his little sister into his own arms and running a hand over her messy dark hair.

“I will try, I promise.” Charlotte softly says, and with that she disappears into nothing.

“You have a weird family.” Mark says to Kit, picking Rosie up and kissing her little cheek. Kit sighs lightly and nods.

“Tell me about it.”

________________________________________________________________ *LATER THAT EVENING, DEVON*

It is almost 6 o’clock in the evening, the sky is pitch dark and it has begun to rain outside. Tessa, Jem, Kit, Mina and Charlotte are sitting in the living room with the fire lit and the t.v. on in the background. Kit and Jem are sitting next to each other on the smaller couch, heads bent together as they examine a picture of Lucie, James, Cordelia and Matthew. Tesas’s heart flutters at the sight of her two boys, and subconsciously her hand comes to rest on her stomach.

“Kit?” Tessa quietly says, making a split second decision.

“Yeah mum?” Kit asks, looking up from the picture and smiling at her.

“Do you like being the only boy in the family?” Tessa softly asks. Kit shrugs and says

“I don’t mind it, why?” Tessa laughs lightly to herself and says

“Well it’s just... you won’t be the only boy soon.” Kit furrows his brow and gives her a quizzical look, while Jem grins, knowing exactly what is going on.

“Huh?” Kit asks in a tone of confusion.

“You’re going to have a brother soon baby, I’m pregnant.” Tessa says in a joyful tone. She and Jem had known about the baby for a few weeks now but had decided to keep it to themselves until 12 weeks, in case anything happened. They had learned from Brother Enoch that they are expecting a boy in July, just 3 months after Mina’s 4th birthday.

“Oh my god, really?” Kit asks in a tone of joy and disbelief.

“Yes, I’m about three months along so the baby will be here in July, we couldn’t believe it when Brother Enoch told us it’s a boy.” Tessa lightly says, her hand still resting on her stomach, which had popped just a few days ago, she showed earlier and earlier with each pregnancy, with Jamie she didn’t show until almost 5 months, it was around the same with Lucie, but then with Mina and Charlotte she had started showing at 3 months and this time she had started showing almost straight away.

“I really thought we were only going to have girls, Tessa’s last three babies have all been girls.” Jem lightly says. He is thrilled that he and Tessa are expecting again, he would have been delighted to have another daughter and he is delighted they’re having a son, he didn’t care either way, as long as the baby is healthy and happy.

“Oh that’s amazing! Are you going to do a pregnancy reveal on YouTube?” Kit asks, remembering back to when he had been roped into their pregnancy announcement with Charlotte.

“No we’re going to do it on Instagram, I don’t think Charlotte would sit still long enough for us to shoot a video with her, but we can get her to sit along enough to have her picture taken, and yes you have to be involved in this one too.” Tessa says. She is planning to take a picture of Kit and Jem, Kit holding a scan picture and Jem holding the positive pregnancy test and then uploading it to Instagram along with a picture of the girls wearing t-shirts that read ‘Worlds best big sister’ alongside a picture of her bump, and then uploading it to Instagram.

“I don’t mind, when are you going to take the pictures?” Kit asks. He had been extremely embarrassed to be a part of the last pregnancy reveal, but he doesn’t mind one bit this time

“Tomorrow if that suits you.” Tessa says.

“Yeah sounds good to me! Are you to going to tell the girls today?”

“Yes though I’m not sure Charlotte will understand what’s going on, she’s only a few months older than Jamie was when I got pregnant with Lucie and he wasn’t exactly sure what was going on.” Tessa explains. She and Jem hadn’t planned for there to be such a small age gap between Charlotte and her brother, just as she and Will hadn’t planned for their to be just a year between Lucie and Jamie, Lucie and this little boy were both a surprise, and though Tessa knew having three kids under 5 would be difficult, it would be more than worth it.

“What won’t Lottie understand?” Mina asks in a quizzical tone, setting her toy down and climbing up beside Jem and Kit.

“Well... she might not understand that you’re going to have a baby brother soon.” Jem softly tells his eldest daughter, brushing her hair back from her face as her brown eyes widen in amazement.

“Really? We are?” Mina asks in a tone of awe.

“Yeah when you were with your Uncle Magnus and Alec today, mama and I went to the hospital to check on your brother in mama’s tummy, he’s going to be here just a few months after your birthday.” Jem explains.

“He my present?” Mina asks hopefully. Jem laughs lightly and pulls her in for a hug, she certainly has a good sense of humor.

“Yes I suppose he is love, I bought you and Charlotte t-shirts that say ‘Best big sister in the world’ and tomorrow we’re going to take pictures of you in the shirt so everyone can know about the baby.” Tessa softly explains.

“Does Kitty get a shirt?” Mina curiously asks.

“No love, just you and Lottie.” Tessa says.

“Cordy can you help us tell Lottie that you’re going to be big sisters?” Kit gently asks. Before Mina can agree, Charlotte crawls over and reaches up to Tessa who immediately scoops her up and settles her in her lap.

“Lottie.” Tessa softly says. “You’re going to be a big sister soon, mama’s going to have a baby.” Charlotte looks at her mother curiously and then tentatively places her hand on Tessa’s belly.

“Baby?” She curiously asks.

“That’s right, your brother is in there.” Tessa softly says, covering Charlotte’s hand with her own, remembering back to when she was pregnant with Lucie and she would wear a pair of Will’s old pajamas as they were much comfier than a nightgown, in the early hours of the morning when she was heavily pregnant, Jamie would come sit on her lap, she would push her top up and they would both wait to feel the baby kicking, sometimes Jamie liked to poke her stomach to make his sister kick or move, he didn’t grow out of the habit when Lucie was born, Tessa had often caught him poking her when she was sleeping in her bassinet, it took all her strength not to laugh so she could explain to James why he couldn’t poke his sister.

“Ove baby.” Charlotte says in a loving tone, lowering her head and resting it on Tessa’s stomach.

_______________________________________________________________

*THE NEXT DAY, THE LA INSTITUTE*

“Hey Ty look at this.” Dru says, turning her attention from her phone to her brother. She and Ty are currently the only ones home, the’re both in the living room waiting for everyone to get back. Dru is lying on the sofa, her legs thrown over the back of it, scrolling through social media on her phone, while Ty sits on the floor, leaning against the couch, reading.

“What is it?” Ty asks, turning around to face his sister.

“Look what Tessa just posted on Instagram.” Dru says, handing him the phone. Ty looks at the picture of Jem and Kit sitting on the sofa in their home in Devon, Kit holding a blurry black and white picture of something and Jem holding a blue and white stick that has a little clear window in the middle with a plus sign on it. Next to it, is a picture of Kit’s sisters Mina and Charlotte, standing by the front door wearing matching t-shirts with black writing that read ‘Best big sisters in the world!’ and next to that is a picture of Tessa standing sideways against a white wall in a black crop-top and black leggings, cradling her stomach which is big and swollen. The caption reads ‘Soon my two boys will be my three boys and my girls will be getting a little brother, baby William Carstairs, coming July 2016.’.

“Did you know Tessa’s pregnant?” Dru asks. Ty shakes his head, his black curls falling into his eyes.

“No she never said anything about it last time I went to visit, non of them did. They must have just found out.” Ty calmly says, handing the phone back to his sister.

“I’m going to call Kit, he knows I hate secrets!” Dru exclaims.

“Maybe Tessa and Jem asked him not to tell anyone though, mom and dad didn’t tell anyone of us about you until mom was about 3 months pregnant, Helen says it’s because the chance of miscarriage is lower in the second trimester.” Ty explains. He’s not the biggest fan of secrets either, and he would normally be hurt if Kit kept something from him, but this he understands, Tessa and Jem wouldn’t want to have to tell everyone if they lost the baby, it’s totally understandable.

“Hmm maybe.” Dru says, as she waits for Kit to answer his phone.

“Hello?” Kit’s voice comes down the line a few seconds later.

“Christopher! Why didn't’ you tell me your mom’s pregnant? You know I hate secrets!” Dru exclaims loudly.

“I didn’t keep it a secret, mum and dad only told me yesterday, I promise I had no idea up until then.” Kit calmly replies, use to Dru’s dramatics by now. It is one of the many reasons he loves her.

“Alright I believe you, when are you coming to visit us again?” Dru asks in a more calm voice.

“Why don’t you come visit me?” Kit asks in an amused tone.

“We’re babysitting.” Dru lies. She hates using portals, it would be better if Kit could come here.

“So am I, mum’s really tired and sick because of the baby and dad’s looking after her so I’m looking after the girls.” Kit explains.

“Well bring them with you, they can play with Millie and Rosie!” Dru says, even though Cristina, Mark, Kieran and Amelia are in Faerie at the minute and Helen, Aline and Rosie are in Idris staying with Aline’s parents for a few days.

“I’m not going through a portal with two toddlers, are you mad?! I miss you guys too but even if you came here we couldn’t do much when I have my sisters.” Kit gently explains.

“Dru stop harassing my boyfriend will you?” Ty lightly says, smiling at his sister who stick her tongue out at him and then smiles at him.

“Promise you’ll come visit again soon?” Dru asks. She misses her best friend desperately and really wants to see him again soon.

“Promise. Look I have to go but I promise I’ll come see you soon, love you.” Kit hurriedly says, before hanging up and rushing off to see what Lottie is crying over now.

The rest of Tessa’s pregnancy goes by in a blur, her sickness clears up at around 5 months and she doesn’t experience any of the aches and pains she had the other four times. Little Will is a lot more active than his sisters and older brother, his kicks often keep Tessa awake at night, sometimes it feels like he’s doing acrobats in there, and nothing will calm him down. When Mina or Charlotte kicked too hard, Jem’s voice was able to calm them down, but every time little Will hears his dad’s voice he seems to freak out and start kicking even more. There are times when Tessa forbids Jem from talking so that the baby won’t kick too much.

Right now Tessa is 9 months pregnant and absolutely exhausted after agreeing to watch Max and Rafe for a few hours. She had plenty of help from Jem and Kit but looking after 4 energetic children was tough work, especially when pregnant. Magnus and Alec had arrived to pick the boys up about ten minutes ago, and are just getting ready to leave.

“Hey Tessa are you okay?” She hears Alec ask. She opens her eyes to see him sitting beside her on the sofa, concern written all over his face. He is such a sweet and gentle young boy, just like Gideon had been.

“Oh yes I’m fine, just absolutely shattered, growing a baby is hard work.” She says in a tired tone, rubbing her swollen stomach.

“I’m sure it is, I’m really sorry about dumping the boys on you last minute, when Ragnor bailed we had no one else to ask, everyone was busy.” Alec explains, guilt seeping into his tone.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous Alec, they were no trouble, I’m just always tired at this point.” Tessa explains. However just then she is hit with a sharp pain in her lower abdomen and can’t help but gasp in pain and clutch at her stomach.

“Tessa! What’s wrong?” Alec asks in a tone of urgency.

“Tess?” Comes Jem’s worried voice from behind her. He quickly hurries to her side and grasps her hand in his. “Tess, is it time?” He softly asks. Tessa nods, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Yes... you need to get the midwife quickly.... he’s not waiting around.” Tessa grits out through the pain.

Approximately 10 minutes later when Jem has helped Tessa up to their room, the midwife arrives, barely on time. By the time she checks Tessa the baby’s head is already showing. After a very brief but painful labor, Tessa leans back into Jem as she listens to her little boy crying.

“Oh Tess you did it, you’re so brave, I’m so proud of you.” Jem quietly says, rubbing her back and squeezing her hand. Things had gone from 0 to 100 in a matter of minutes, yet Tessa kept her calm and did what she had to do, and now their son is here.

“Is he okay Jem?” Tessa asks, trying to regain her breath.

“Yeah he is, he’s perfect.” Jem softly tells her. Just then, the midwife places the baby on Tessa’s chest before stepping back to allow she and Jem to bond with the baby.

Tessa carefully peals back the blankets from her son’s face and her heart swells with love and joy as tears of joy prick her eyes.

“Oh Jem look how perfect he is.” Tessa says in a teary tone, as little Will grasps her finger in his small hand. He is his father’s twin, with a few wisps of thick black hair, his pallor, eye shape and bone structure.

“William Fa Ke Carstairs, now how did I get so lucky as to have the two most perfect boys in the world, as my sons?” Jem lightly says, stroking his baby son’s cheek.

“Don’t let Kit hear you say that or he’ll die of embarrassment.” Tessa jokingly says.

“He secretly loves it when I tease him, doesn’t he Will?” Jem coos to the baby. He is so utterly in love with his baby boy, with all his children.

About half an hour later, Kit, Mina and Charlotte come up to meet their baby brother. They all absolutely adore him and are so sweet and gentle with him.

“So do you mind giving up the title of only boy, for him?” Tessa jokingly asks Kit, who looks up from his brother’s face and smiles widely at her.

“Not at all, after all I still have the title of best looking in the family!” Tessa laughs and says

“Oh do you now? Because I think that title belongs to your father.” Jem smiles softly at his wife and presses a kiss to her head.

“No my love, that’s you.” He softly says.

“Ew you’re so in love it’s gross.” Kit teases, wrinkling his nose up at the sight of his parents kissing.

“And you and Ty aren’t ‘so in love?’” Jem asks.

“We are but we’re not gross about it like you guys.” Kit teasingly says.

“Oh so that’s a bruise on your neck is it?” Tessa says, raising an eyebrow at Kit, who flushes furiously and pulls his jumper up to try and cover his neck.

“Well at least we don’t have to worry about you making us grandparents anytime soon.” Jem teases, causing Kit to blush even more.

“Oh my god dad no!” Kit says in a tone of embarrassment, covering his face with his hands.

“Don’t be silly Jem, he knows how to use protection.” Tessa says, grinning as Kit turns even more red. The poor kid is so easy to embarrass and tease.

“I’m gonna run away from home.” Kit says in a muffled voice, his hands still covering his face.

“You wouldn’t break our hearts like that.” Jem says. Kit lifts his face from his hands and looks at them with a look of shock on his face.

“You’d be heartbroken if I left home?” He asks in a high pitched tone of surprise.

“Of course we would, you’re our baby, our son, we know you’ll probably move out and go live with Ty at some point, but if you left now we’d be heartbroken, our family wouldn’t be complete without you.” Tessa softly says.

“I love you guys.” Kit quietly says, looking form his sisters who are fussing over their baby brother in his bassinet, to his mother and father who are looking at him with nothing but love and pride.

“We love you too, and we are so proud of you.” Jem says, hugging his eldest son tightly. Kit hugs him back and buries his face in his shoulder, trying to hide his tears of joy.

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