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theladyofdeath · 4 years

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Alone in the Ashes {16}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: It may be short but it’s still a hot mess. I should start naming my chapters like Friends episodes. This one is a tie between “The one before the weekend away” and “The one where Mor ships Elriel.”

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“The marks humans leave are too often scars.” ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

Cassian had called to tell his coworkers that he couldn’t come in, but neglected to tell them it was because of a massive hangover. It didn’t help, either, when he decided to take Bryaxis for a walk around noon and found Tomas leaving Nesta’s apartment.

“Later,” he grinned, leaving Cassian staring at Nesta’s door.

He should have just walked away, should have let it go.

But he couldn’t.

He slammed his fist against her door, over and over again, until she opened it up. She wore an oversized hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts. Her golden-brown hair was in a high pony-tail, her feet bare.

When she saw Cassian, she hesitated, but the look of surprise quickly faded and was replaced with something hard and dismissed. “I was just leaving.”

“I’m coming in,” Cassian grunted, and as she was protesting, he stormed past her. “Have fun last night?”

“You don’t want to know the answer to that any more than I want to answer it,” Nesta said. She left her door open and didn’t stray from the threshold.

Cassian turned to look at her and shrugged. “Well?”

“Well, what?” she asked, exhausted.

“I deserve an explanation,” he said, as if it were obvious.

Nesta sighed, rubbing her temples. “Look, Cassian, we hung out, we had fun, and now my boyfriend is back. Okay?”

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head. “I know you, Nesta, and you can’t hide from the fact that you just cringed when you said the word boyfriend. The guy’s a jackass, Nes.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Says you of all people.”

Cassian stilled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You just wanted me for sex!” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re just like every other guy I’ve ever been with. Try to impress me, fuck me, call it a night. It was only a matter of time before you got bored. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor. The sex was great while it lasted, but you’re free now.”

She stepped aside.

The way out was clear.

Cassian didn’t move. “Do you seriously think that’s what I think of you? That you’re a fucking sex toy?”

Nesta wouldn’t look at him as she said, “Don’t make a scene, Cassian. You look ridiculous.”

Cassian’s jaw went rigid. Bryaxis looked up at Cassian, noticing his change in posture. “Nesta…”

She stared at the floor. “Please leave.”

Cassian stayed where he was. He had to say it, had to confess. What she did after was up to her. “Nesta, I love y-”

“Stop!” she cried, and when she looked up, her eyes held such pain and misery that Cassian thought he’d been punched in the gut. “Don’t. Shut the fuck up. Okay? Stop. Just...Just. Fucking. Go. Please.”

Cassian’s lips snapped shut as he nodded, slowly. Bryaxis whined at his feet. “Fine. Alright. Whatever.”

He walked toward the door and when he had met Nesta where she stood, he took a step closer to her, took her face into his hands, and brought her mouth to his. He kissed her slowly, savoring every second that passed, every second he got to taste her lips.

Nesta didn’t fight him.

But she didn’t touch him, either. Her hands stayed by her sides.

When he pulled back, Nesta’s eyes were shut.

Cassian dropped his hands, whistled for Bryaxis to follow, then he was out the door, walking away.

He didn’t look back.

~~~~~

Nesta closed her front door, quietly, and leaned back against it, slumping down until she was sitting on the cold, hardwood floor.

She knew she was crying, knew there were tears streaming down her face, but she was grateful she held it in until he left.

He was going to tell her that he loved her.

And oh, what a mistake that would have been.

Nesta knew who she was.

She was a bitch. A no-good, personality-less, empty bitch. She had done horrible things throughout her life. She knew where her place was, knew what to expect out of this life.

As she wept in the entryway of her apartment, Nesta knew she had done the right thing.

Her heart was broken, shattered, but she had done the right thing.

She would have given anything to be loved by Cassian, but he deserved better than her. Women like Nesta were meant for men like Tomas.

Not men like Cassian.

Cassian was caring, thoughtful, kind. His heart was pure. A true gentleman...until that dark, seductive glare formed in his beautiful hazel eyes. And when he did make love, he made it well.

Cassian was a good man.

The best.

And Nesta Archeron didn’t deserve a good man.

Because even though she loved him, too, she would never be able to admit it. She loved him too much to make him spend his days with her. If she let it continue, the days would pass, then the weeks, the months, the years. Eventually, he’d propose. And, being in love with him, she would say yes. And as time went on, she would find a way to mess it up. He would grow to resent her.

He would become unhappy, because who the fuck could be happy with a woman like her?

No.

Nesta wouldn’t do that, not to him.

He deserved better. He deserved it all.

Better to break his heart now, before his love could be declared, then to let it go on and disappoint him, later.

Even though breaking his heart meant breaking her own.

But, she had done the right thing.

Even if she regretted making him stop. She should have let him finish, should have let him say it, just once.

Nesta, I love you.

Nesta wiped her face with the back of her sleeves before picking herself up off the floor, her run long forgotten as she slumped down the hall, to the bathroom.

She opened the top drawer.

Pulled out Tomas’ pain pills.

Using the glass toothbrush holder, Nesta ground the pills into a fine powder, once again.

Yes.

Cassian deserved better.

~~~~~

The bell rang as Azriel stepped into the fancy children’s boutique. His jeans were splattered with paint, although his black tee was clean. He hadn’t been wearing it while he painted, hopeful that Elain would get off early and catch him.

She didn’t.

True to his word, he went to her work, ready to pick her up for lunch. When he walked through the door, she caught his eye and smiled while she was talking to an elderly woman. He let her do her job and started to wander around. He had never seen so much pink, frilly shit in his life. He picked up a dress, one that he thought Mila might like, and looked at the price tag.

He quickly put it back.

Suddenly, he was terrified to touch anything.

Just as he thought to wait outside, Elain called his name.

He spun around, smiling when he caught her smiling up at him. She must have run home after he left, because her makeup was flawless and her hair hung in loose waves. She wore a little black dress with tights and ankle boots.

That morning, when he left, her face was bare, her hair a mess, and she was still half-nude from their almost-love making session in the middle of the night.

Her cheeks turned pink, as if she knew the thoughts that were running through his mind, making his heart beat wildly.

He kissed her on the cheek. “You look nice.”

“Thank you,” she said, quietly. “Lunch?”

“Anywhere you want,” he said. “That...can fit into the one hour slot that is your lunch break.”

She laughed and nodded. “Perfect.”

After grabbing her bag, clocking out, and telling her boss she’d be back, she was walking down the sidewalk, hand in hand, with Azriel.

“What are you hungry for?” he asked.

She thought about it for a moment before suggesting, “Tacos? There’s a food truck just up here my boss goes to all the time. She says it’s amazing.”

“Everybody loves tacos,” Azriel said, fingers tightening around her hand. “I should bring some home to Mor. She took Mila to school this morning which means she had to put a bra on before noon. She always gets cranky when she has to put a bra on before noon.”

Elain laughed, voice bright. “Ah, every woman gets cranky when they have to put on a bra. It’s truly tragic. The worst part of womanhood. Well...definitely in the top ten.”

Azriel chuckled. “I’m not sad to say I wouldn’t know.”

Elain rolled her eyes and nudged him in the side. “Men.”

Azriel grinned as they came up on a row of food trucks near the heart of the city. Azriel asked Elain to find a seat while he ordered. And once he did, and was carrying boxes full of tacos, he found Elain sitting beautifully by a fountain of the goddesses. Water was pouring from their mouths, in true fountain-fashion.

He set a box in front of her. “Chicken and rice.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he murmured, opening his own box. He got one for Mor, too. He’d bring it to her once he walked Elain back to work.

Elain told him about her day as she ate, and he told her what he’d done that morning to finish up at her dad’s.

“Oh! Speaking of that, I have exciting news, I completely forgot,” she said, setting down her fork and clapping her hands.

Azriel raised a brow.

“That townhouse I applied for? I got it,” she beamed. “I can move in this weekend. I was...hoping you could help?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling. “That’s great, I’m so happy for you. I’ll get Cassian to help, too.”

“Thank you,” she said, eyes soft. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

They ate the rest of their lunch in easy, light conversation before Azriel walked her back to work and kissed her goodbye before hopping into his truck and driving home.

Mor was doing yoga when he walked in.

“Good, I just started,” she said. “Put on your yoga pants, Az. Join me.”

Azriel snorted. “No, thanks. I did bring you lunch though. Tacos. Really fucking good, too.”

“Aw,” she smiled, moving into her next pose. “Aren’t you the sweetest?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “I am. How did Mila do this morning?”

“Awesome,” she said. “She really seems to like it there. She introduced me to her teacher, her friends, the class hamster, and every one of the dolls and stuffed animals in the play area.”

Azriel laughed. “Sounds right. You’re lucky, though. I only got to meet Deano the dinosaur. All the other stuffed animals were too important for me.”

Mor grinned, falling onto her mat. “So. Elain-”

Azriel groaned. “Stop asking me about my sex life, please.”

“We all know this is much more than just sex,” Mor crooned.

Azriel plopped down on the couch and popped open a can of Coke. “Fine. Stay out of my….”

“Love life?” Mor implied, eyebrows wiggling. When Azriel didn’t reply, she rolled her eyes. “Az, you’ve never even said that word to a woman, have you?”

“Haven’t found a woman I’ve loved. No need to say it if it’s not true.”

“Before Elain?” Mor asked.

Azriel shot her a glare.

Mor’s eyes softened as she said, “You two are really good together.”

“You’ve mentioned,” Azriel muttered.

“Look, on Saturday night, I’m taking Mila to the movies. And you, Azriel, are finally going to make love to that sweet, amazing woman.”

Azriel choked on his drink.

Mor just patted his knee until he was done. “Great. It’s a date night, then.”

She left him on the couch, still halfway choking, to eat her tacos.

~~~~~

“He didn’t go to work today?”

“No,” Amren said, voice hard. “And he’s gone jogging three times today. I’ve tried to go talk to Nesta twice today, but she keeps telling me to fuck off.”

“Hmm,” Rhysand said, into his phone. “I would ask Feyre what happened, but she doesn’t talk to her sister.”

“Something went down,” Amren said. “Something bad, Rhys. I haven’t seen Cassian this pissed in a while. He doesn’t handle this shit well. When I got back this morning from going out with my old work friends, at around two, he was passed out drunk in his bed, sleeping upside down with his socks on. He was sleeping with his fucking socks on, Rhys. He hates socks on when he sleeps.”

Rhysand sighed. “I’ll try calling him again but I doubt he’ll answer.”

“Well, try,” Amren muttered. “He’s a mess.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Thanks,” Amren said. “Tell Feyre I say hi.”

“Will do.”

He hung up just as the front door opened and Feyre came in. She smiled when she saw him sitting at the table, covered in food and candles.

“I wasn’t expecting dinner,” she said, slipping off her shoes.

“Don’t get too excited,” Rhysand laughed. “It’s from the diner across the street.”

Feyre grinned, sitting in the chair across from him. “Either way, it looks delicious. I’m starving.”

“Dig in,” Rhysand urged, gesturing to her plate of pasta.

He watched her while she took a big, obnoxious bite and laughed.

“Why are you watching me eat?” she asked, covering her mouth.

“I love you,” he said, softly. “So much.”

Feyre raised a brow. “I love you, too.”

Rhysand cleared his throat as he picked up his fork. “I thought we could go away this weekend. What do you think?”

Feyre started chewing slower. “Really? Where?”

“My mom’s old cabin, up in the mountains,” he said. “We could leave Friday after you get off and come back Sunday night. It’s only an hour drive.”

Feyre’s smile widened. “Yeah, okay. That sounds nice.”

“Good,” he said, a breath leaving his body. His whole plan revolved around her saying yes to the cabin.

Feyre took another bite. “You’re acting weird.”

“What?” he asked. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” she said, eyes narrowing. “What are you hiding from me?”

I’m gonna ask you to marry me. No big deal.

“Nothing,” he said, stuffing his mouth with pasta.

“Damn it, Rhys,” she began, setting down her fork. “Rhys, you’re hiding something from me.”

“I’m not,” he said, swallowing his noodles.

“I know you,” she said, crossing her arms. “Tell me now.”

“It’s nothing,” he promised.

“Tell me or I’m not going this weekend.”

Rhysand stilled, sighed, and set down his fork. “Fine. I…...I went to see Tamlin today.”

He wasn’t sure why he thought that was better than telling her he wanted to marry her, but it’s what came out.

“You did what?” she asked, softly. “Why the hell did you do that?”

Rhysand rubbed his temples. “Look. We can’t live like this, Feyre. I love you. I want to be with you. And I want Tamlin to back the fuck off...so, that’s what I told him.”

Feyre said nothing.

“Hey..” Rhysand breathed, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I handled myself. I was….nice.” Feyre rolled her eyes. “I told him that you deserved better. Okay? That’s all.”

Feyre sighed, wrapping her fingers around his. “I guess I can’t be mad at that. Thank you.”

He nodded. “Of course. Now, eat. This pasta’s delicious.”

Feyre smiled, softly. A minute passed before she asked, “Do you think that’s it, then? That Tamlin is done throwing his hissy fit?”

“Yeah,” Rhysand said, smiling. “I do.”

Hopefully she didn’t see it for the lie he thought it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

@danika-defendyr @rachaels14 @faequeenaelin @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn

@hashtolanashoba @poisonous00 @chemicha @samotita

@mynewdreamwasyou @humming-asong

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass @stars-falling

@ifangirlninja @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books @alwayss-reading

@amren-courtofdreams @b00kworm

@wifeofchrishemsworth @booksstorm

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts

@humanexile @over300books

@booksbooksbooksworld @starrynightsbooks

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03

@emilyrose111294

@negativenesta

@argentumstella

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae

@feyrethedarklady

@starryandbooks

@gingerglides

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit

@6255igntm

@littlehoneyybee

@the-regal-warrior

@awkward-avocado-s

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn

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@regular-nessian-trash @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila @awkward-avocado-s

@superspiritfestival @the-dark-swan @girlgotattitude448 @eversincebeirut

@midnightrose-reader @lord-douglas-the-third @thestarguidingyouhome

@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta @nickjgoodsell

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #feysand #elriel #nessian #modern AU #tacmc AITA

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wilhelmjfink · 4 years

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Daryl Dixon Drabble #6 - pt 2

Sorry I can’t “read more” on my phone and it’s long! Will these two make up? Daryl, an emotional tightass? Prob not. We’ll see.

—

You’d never minded confrontation before. You couldn’t afford to fear it, really, with how frequently you’d opened your mouth and manage to say all the wrong things — case and point — and almost always found yourself too stubborn to apologize and instead would escalate the situation until you and whomever you’d been arguing with were toe to toe in a shouting match, only to be broken up by a third party usually before it got physical. Usually.

But then, you’d only ever been the one to throw the first punch. This whole scenario was new — being on the receiving end of someone’s anger and escalating them until they snapped first. You’d always known to simply hit back, right? What did that mean for you then and there, still laying on the cold grass perched up on your elbows, watching as Daryl disappeared into the night?

You were shaking — you usually did when things got heated. Didn’t particularly matter who it was with, either, but this time felt different. It felt wrong.

Pulling yourself to your feet you brushed the dirt off of your jeans, wiping your sweaty palms against the fabric on your thighs, and gently prodded at the newly tender spot around your tailbone that was sure to bruise. Not horribly, but enough to remind you about this night for at least the coming week.

Daryl had disappeared completely. All you could hear was the crackling of the fire and some spring peepers in the distance; formerly a peaceful and reassuring sound. Not now, though — not as long as you stood there stupidly staring into the distance, fighting the anxiety that was filling your chest. Where had he gone? The moon was high in the sky, a glowing silver crescent that gave you little natural light, but you knew Daryl didn’t really even need it. He would navigate the terrain with skill and precision as if he’d lived his whole entire life on this god damn farm.

Your machete was strapped to your thigh in its rightful spot, as it always was, and it would be better to keep quiet anyway. Certainly your shouting had alerted your presence to any walker on the property, and even with the wine still in your blood and the adrenaline that was still threatening to kill your buzz, you were on high alert as you jogged to the tree line with a newly found sense of determination. Hopefully the makeshift fencing along the outskirts of the property served its purpose in keeping any stragglers out.

In the darkness you’d have to rely on your ears and go with your gut feelings, and then simply hope that would be enough. You’d found yourself in similar situations before — even recently, searching for the little girl sun up to sun down, but at least you’d had Daryl to follow then. The first stretch of woods wasn’t as deep as it was narrow, so hopefully you would be able to sneak through it and come out on the field without issue. Outside of that we’re the traps and electrical fence that lined the perimeter of the farm, and Daryl wasn’t stupid enough to venture further than that.

The foliage was high this time of year, thick with green leaves and fallen sticks that crunched beneath your feet. As far as you could tell with each step that lead you further and further into the woods, you were unsettlingly alone in the thick darkness, which was somehow both a comfort and a concern that threatened to nag you until you either found Daryl or hung around long enough to see the sun begin to rise. You had no idea how long either option would take, so you pressed on with a hope that maybe your eyes would adjust better and you’d maybe even be able to impress Daryl with your nocturnal tracking skills... if you could find him.

Even in the near-pitch-black of night you could feel your head swimming slightly, the lingering effects of alcohol disorienting you, threatening to dull your senses even more. As the adrenaline wore off, the more your buzz returned. If you could see, your world would certainly be teetering slightly beneath your feet, rocking you like a rowboat.

It was eerily silent, the fire now a faded ball of flickering light in the far distance and the peepers and crickets having silenced their chirping upon your presence. Of course, Daryl was so skilled that he strode through the brush with a hunters tread so silent that not even the insects beneath his boots had noticed him. He would have that advantage on you, surely, but even if he heard you coming, you knew that he was far too adept to mistake you for a walker and shoot you.

Although, you thought to yourself, that didn’t necessarily mean that he wouldn’t try to hurt you, did it?

The idea of Daryl laying his hands on you in that way had never once crossed your mind — admittedly, it had under vastly different circumstances — but to give as far as shove you was something you’d never even considered. He’d only ever touched you with a harsh grip when he threw you behind himself protectively in the face of danger, or when he cleaned and dressed a wound you’d sustained with lingering fear and adrenaline in his system. It was only ever with good intentions; his ferocity contradicting the way his touch was surpringly gentle and warm. It wasn’t like that this time. And it was that realization that had you stopping in your tracks and trying to withstand the sheer force that the sudden guilt hit you with.

You had crossed a line. Fuck that — you had gotten a running start and leapt over that line like it was the long jump test in high school gym class. The worst part? You’d known that was a low blow. In your head, you’d briefly acknowledged that your words were going to hurt him in some way and you’d spat them out anyway. Just like you always did, and undoubtedly would continue to do as long as walked the earth, you’d said just the right wrong thing and driven the other person to crack. And, yeah — you’d both been drinking and both had loose tongues to begin with, but it was irrefutable that you’d gone too far this time if his initial response was to physically shove you away from him.

Exhaling a a long breath and trying to steady yourself you needed to gather your bearings before pressing on. The quick snapping of a twig somewhere nearby had you planting your boot back down firmly onto the ground, and your hand instinctively going to the handle of your machete. You listened intently, holding your breath, eyes striving to see in the darkness around you for any sign of movement, but everything even felt still. Dark, silent, and still.

You swallowed hard. “Daryl?” There was absolutely no way he could’ve heard you squeak his name out — you hardly heard it yourself. You cleared your throat and opened your mouth to try again just as you were thrown off your feet and down to the ground on your hands and knees, a heavy mass pinning you down from behind.

Now, with your adrenaline once again soaring and your senses heightened in panic, you could hear the low growling of the walker on your back. You thrashed beneath it and briefly wondered if you were thrown into water with how heavy your limbs felt and how muffled it’s groaning sounded despite being so close to your ears. While you summoned all your strength to hoist yourself back upright, straightening your arms in an attempt to shake him off like a bucking bronco would a cowboy, it occurred to you that you’d dropped your machete in the fall.

At least now you’d managed to get onto your knees instead of sprawled face down helplessly in the dirt, but the walker was relentless, it’s bony fingers already intertwined into your ponytail and yanking painfully as it tried to right itself. It’s jaw snapped hungrily, what remained of its rotted teeth clicking against eachother as it tried once again to throw its body weight at you.

You’d manage to spin around just as it tumbled forward into you, knocking you from your knees on to your back with the walker now hugging you, a clear view of its grey skin and yellow eyes. Straddling you, leaning into your forearm that trembled weakly while supporting its weight above you, sheer panic and adrenaline keeping it pressed against its decayed chest and its mouth away from your neck. Tears blurred your vision. Your mind reeled desperately, screaming at you to find your knife, to get your shit together, to overcome this walker that latched onto any piece of you it could grasp despite you throwing elbows at it and shoving your shoulders into it and kicking your legs out to absolutely no prevail and you’re going to die here, you’re going to fucking die here, you’re going to —

It collapsed on you, dead weight, and everything was suddenly still and silent once again.

All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears as it mocked your racing pulse, struggling to breathe easy with your chest crushed beneath some combination of the corpse and panic. It didn’t move, it didn’t make a sound — but you lay still in fear of stirring it awake or somehow bringing it back to life while your brain sluggishly tried to catch up with the events that had just happened.

However long it was that you laid there on the ground, paralyzed in fear, you would never be able to tell — minutes, hours, seconds you were sure — it both somehow drug by agonizingly slow yet when you blinked next the weight had rolled off of you and you shot upright with a gasping breath, taking in oxygen you hadn’t even been aware had been withheld from you.

Your mouth was dry and you panted like a dog and your brain was shouting at you to run, but another pair of disembodied hands from within the darkness reached out and grasped onto your shoulders, drawing a terrified scream from your own lips that echoed through the night, against your better judgment to keep quiet. It had you held in place before you could even get to your feet.

“Hey, hey! Hey!”

You froze.

We’re you that drunk? Or, did you maybe die? And this was some sort of hell where walkers could speak while they ate you alive?

“S’just me. Calm down.”

Of course it was Daryl. Of course, he’d managed to come rescue you like a knight in shining armor after you managed to get yourself in a stupid situation that could’ve been easily avoided if you’d just stopped to think every once in awhile. And though your cheeks flooded with embarrassment and shame, you couldn’t deny the relief that filled your veins like a drug, because technically, you had found him. Which was all you wanted in the first place anyway, right?

“Shit,” you exhaled breathlessly, allowing yourself to relax again while you struggled to straighten your thoughts out. “Daryl, I—“

“What in the hell’s the matter with ya?” He whispered harshly, voice still sharp enough to make you flinch with each syllable. “Runnin’ around in the fuckin’ woods in the middle of the night. You gotta fuckin’ death wish or somethin’?”

You blinked. “I... I needed to find you—“

“No,” he cut you off furiously and you swore you could feel the heat of his anger radiating off of his body; somehow still enticing despite his demeanor. “Ya don’t ever fuckin’ come after me, ya hear me?”

“But I—“

“But nothin’! Ya don’t ever put yourself in danger, ‘specially not for me. What if I hadn’t been nearby? What if —“

“Daryl!” Between the two of you, you supposed you’d already made enough noise that you shouting wouldn’t make much of a difference anymore. “Let me talk!”

He stiffened, but shut his mouth. And even through the darkness of night you could still sense how worked up he was, how rapidly he was breathing, how warmth still radiated from his sweat-coated skin that was so unnaturally close to your own body that, between that and the fact that you’d never really even resolved your internal conflict and rehearsed some choreographed apology like you normally would have, you found that words had failed you completely. And you were silent.

Averting your gaze you sighed, hands absentmindedly playing with the grass beneath your fingertips until Daryl stood and, grabbing you by those hands, hoisted you to your feet. With a surprisingly gentle shove between your shoulders, he got you walking toward the camp, defeated.

Although you remained on high alert, adrenaline just started to ebb away slowly, you couldn’t help but watch Daryl from your peripherals throughout the short trek back. You knew that he would be aware of any walkers or potential threats that you obviously couldn’t see or hear yourself in the environment that you were in; not to mention you were already at a disadvantage. You tried so hard to read him, to feel what he was feeling and gauge his behavior and actions but he was, as always, shut away. An exciting cliffhanger that still managed to engulf your entire world within a chapter of a book you’d already read a hundred times. And you weren’t sure if you would ever figure him out — but damn if you weren’t going to try.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead drabble #daryl dixon drabble #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years

Note

Can I request a Christmas scenario about they getting caught under the mistletoe with shy female S/O for Aizawa and Present Mic (separately)? 😍🥰 Because I really love to see they have extremely adorable moments together!! 🥰🥰🥰

aizawa shouta x reader; yamada hizashi x reader

warnings: angst (1), fluff (1), alcohol consumption

a/n: I'm horrible, I didn't read the word s/o…..so…haha…um…… I was in an angsty mood while writing one of these……… enjoy? this is a request, not a drabble!!! more drabbles will be up later tonight :)

Aizawa shouta

You took a deep breath.

Today is the day. You thought.

Today is the day. You repeated.

Today is the–

“What are you doing outside? You’re going to get cold!” A voice interrupted your thoughts, and you shrieked. You whipped your face around and looked at a figure walking your way. You sighed.

It was only Nemuri. “You, uh, you scared me…” You whisper. Your cheeks feeling enflamed as you stood outside the doors to the house you were by. “I was–”

“Thinking of ways to profess your love to little baby, Eraser?” Nemuri teases despite the own blush on her face, she was a sucker for your one-sided romance after all. “You know, for someone as observant as he is, it’s a tragedy he hasn’t noticed you’re in love with him!”

“’Muri-chan!” You shriek as you whip around as if expecting Aizawa to be lurking around for some reason. Given that you knew your crush since high school, you were sure he was busy keeping a drunk Hizashi out of trouble.

“But it is Christmas, who knows! Maybe Ecto left a mistletoe up!” Nemuri teased you as she grabbed your arm, and took you to the door.

You groan as she knocks on the door. The teachers of U.A. were throwing a Christmas party tonight. You had also decided ages ago you would tell Shouta you liked him before the end of the year was up. After stalling for twelve months, you had decided today was the day. Christmas was a couples event, after all.

But you were nauseous as the door flew open, “MIDNIGHTTTT, Y/H/NNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!”

Oh boy, Hizashi was already drunk.

You sat in the corner of the room, a drink in your hand as you chatted with Nemuri about the man she had dommed the other day. Oh, how you wished you could be like your best friend and sweat confidence. You were in your late twenties and still had issues not stuttering around people!

How you were a teacher was beyond you.

Your eyes kept searching around for Aizawa, you knew that he was here. You had said hello to him earlier. With the activity of both your best friends wrecking chaos in opposite ends of the house. You split ways prematurely.

He did say you looked nice, and it left you blushing and stuttering for a solid ten minutes though. You just wanted the night to end so that you could scream it to him on the way out and then disappear for a while. Thank the universe he was still with first years and no longer with third years anymore. If he rejected you, you could at the very least avoid him.

But the night was only getting later, and gifts for Secret Santa had been distributed. Most of your colleagues were, in fact, leaving now. But you knew you had to stay.

“I’ll distract Hizashi, you go get you… your man!” Nemuri slurred drunkenly, the skimpy red dress she wore was not at all in a decent place, but she wasn’t embarrassed. Nor did she want anyone fixing it for her. So most people avoided their stare from her body.

You didn’t even have time to reject her statement as she dragged you across the room. Aizawa and Hizashi were standing where she took you. “MIC COME WITH ME!” Nemuri laughed as she took Hizashi by the hand who had been in the middle of ignoring what Aizawa had to say anyways.

Your eyes locked onto Aizawa who was looking at you. You found yourself straightening out your dress. Your drunken friends disappeared with very loud whispers.

“T-They’re a bit too much, huh?” You ask looking at your feet as Aizawa sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I regret telling Mic that I would be his driver tonight.” Aizawa agrees as you nod your head.

Your thoughts were racing a million kilometers a second. The horror you felt because you couldn’t keep a conversation. You knew you had to say something soon, or else you never would.

“Do you want to go outside with me for a bit?” Aizawa asks, and you freeze. “It’s a bit stuffy in here, and I’m going to pass out soon.”

“Yeah, um, I just need to grab my, uh, my jacket.”

“Take mine.” Aizawa offers as he shrugs off the black wool coat he had been wearing all night.

“No wonder why you’re hot.” You laugh slightly, as the heavy coat is placed on your shoulders. The heat of the jacket and the scent of Aizawa’s cologne hit your body like a truck as you watch him walk out the door. His eyes on you expectantly.

“Oh, man…” You mutter to yourself as you walk after him, mentally preparing to confess any second now.

You watch as Aizawa leans against the porch, his arms folded and you walk over slowly. The two of you stand in silence as Aizawa lets out a slow exhale. The hot air of his breathes smoking against the cold air.

“How have your students been?” Aizawa asks you, interrupting the silence.

“Oh, pretty good.” You say with a smile before it falters. “I wish we could do something about Mirio though, it breaks my heart.”

Aizawa nods his head in agreement as he looks up, his body stilling. But you don’t notice this as your mouth opens ready to confess your feelings.

“Do you follow the mistletoe tradition?” He asks, and your voice dies in your throat.

“W-What?”

“Ecto hid the mistletoe here, and well, I’m asking if you follow the tradition.”

You honestly didn’t, but Aizawa didn’t need to know that as you nodded your head. Your body was quickly becoming hotter as he straightened out. And your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his lips press gently against yours. Your heartbeat roaring in your ears as he did so.

The kiss was short, his lips pressing against yours for less than two seconds. But the warmth that spread through your body made it seem like you had taken a shot.

He pulled away, and you felt breathless as you opened your eyes.

The shrieks coming inside made you realize that many people were watching on. You flush as you see them all cheering, now invested in their happiness for you and Aizawa. You turned your blushing gaze to Aizawa who looked… sad?

“Aizawa, I…” You trailed off, it was now or never. “I have to confess something, I–”

“Please don’t finish that sentence, y/l/n,” Aizawa whispers, and your throat tightens at those words.

“W-What?”

“I know you have feelings for me.”

And you can feel your heart slowly being consumed by the frost of the outside air.

“I can’t…” Aizawa trails off, “I can’t accept them, I’m sorry.”

Hot, bitter tears well up in your eyes as you stare at him, unable to come up with words. “S-So, you… you ask to kiss me… under the mistletoe, knowing full well that I have feelings… and you reject me, still?” You splutter, your mind unable to make sense of this situation as tears roll down your face. You can feel them freezing against your simmering cheeks as you raise your gaze to Aizawa. Aizawa who, for the first time ever, seems at a loss of words.

“I’m sorry, y/l/n.”

You shake your head, a choking sound escaping your lips as you shove the jacket off your body. Tossing it to the ground as you curse him through gritted, humiliated teeth. You don’t even hear him call out your name. His capturing weapon missing your wrist as you storm into the house. You slam the door with all the strength of the Pro-Hero in you.

Nemuri and Hizashi are at your side immediately as you walk in. They were imitating kissing sounds like a bunch of middle schoolers.

“You both were wrong,” You pant, feeling as if the world was caving in on you. “He doesn’t like me back. I’m going to leave.”

You were out the front door the second Aizawa entered the back door. Although not everyone was still there, everyone stared at him with disappointed eyes.

“You fucked up big time, Aizawa…”

Yamada hizashi

You groaned as Hizashi smacked another kiss onto your lip that night.

Your dork of a husband had gone out of his way to buy a Christmas hat with a piece of mistletoe on it. He was now deliberately using it to kiss you whenever he wanted despite the company you had over.

Setting up the table?

“Oh my, watch out y/n, I’m falling over on top of you?! IS THAT MISTLETOE?!”

Smooch!

Eating?

“Hey, y/n, can you pass me a bread roll, no come closer… IS THAT MISTLETOE?!”

Smooch!

Passing out presents?

“Don’t mind me, y/n, just grabbing some present. Ya know, I think there’s a mistletoe just above you right now!”

SMOOCH!

It was cute, don’t get it wrong! Yet your face had turned twenty shades of red and you were not happy to be this red in front of company.

So you were doing everything you could to avoid being yet another kiss steal from Hizashi. Because if he kissed you anymore, you were going to faint. Mixing yourself a drink, you walked back over to where Hizashi and his coworkers sat. Everyone was talking about what they aimed to do with the month they had off in March. Once school was out, of course.

You noticed that the hat was finally off Hizashi’s head, but you still sat across from him in the hope he wouldn’t put it back on. He wouldn't try to make out with you in front of his friends. But the kisses alone were embarrassing!

The night continued smoothly as everyone stayed in the comfort of your home. Everyone chatting away while playing board games you and Hizashi had in the house. Of course, when it got particularly rowdy, those U.A. alumni were some of the most competitive people ever. Hizashi would break out his quirk. Making Aizawa use his quirk. Making Nemuri rip her clothes. Making Cementoss build a wall in your living room to stop the horrible loud yells of your husband.

Every time it happened you couldn’t help but laugh, everyone was so funny in your opinion.

But as the night got later, everyone was getting a bit drunker…

“Who’s the least flustered out of everyone here, we know the most is y/n!” Nemuri slurred as everyone tried to make a mental note of who the least flustered person was.

You were cuddled up into Hizashi’s side, blushing because they definitely weren’t wrong.

“I am!” Hizashi announced a proud smirk on his face. “I only pretend to be flustered so people think I’m just like them!”

It must’ve been the alcohol in your system because you let out a laugh as you shook your head in disagreement. Unfortunately, it seemed that everyone actually agreed with your eccentric husband’s opinion.

“I can fluster you without a problem!” You laugh, oh yeah, it was definitely the alcohol speaking.

“Prove it!” Nemuri squealed, her eyes materializing hearts as she stared expectantly at you two. Chants went around the room, and you stood up. Placing the mistletoe hat back onto your husband’s head who was now looking at you with traces of a blush on his cheeks.

You grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in for a kiss.

You couldn’t even hear the whoops of laughter and cheering from your drunk friends as your lips fervently pressed against Hizashi’s. Your tongue slipping into his mouth. The taste of bitter alcohol was evident in his mouth as your tongue swiped at his. You swallowed the shaky gasp that escaped his lips as your tongue traced the roof of his mouth before pulling away panting.

Hizashi was blushing redder then you had all night.

“HE DOES GET FLUSTERED!!!!!!”

967 notes · View notes

hs-devote · 4 years

Text

7. H O U R G L A S S

Moodboard // Content // Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

Previous chapter :

“I'm close, H! I'm close.”

“Cum with me, baby. Cum with me.”

Y/N cried out when she releases, arching her back made her breast went up in the air. Harry moaned when he spurted his load inside her, filling up her warm cunt. Yet they were riding out their high together, Harry's length still hard and stiff inside her. He rested his forehead against her, giving her small peck on the swollen lips. Harry collapsed next to her, Y/N snuggled to him – hugging his body. They were silent for a moment, letting their lungs gasping for oxygen.

7. HOURGLASS

Her eyes fluttered open, looking at the empty side next to her. She sat up right away, averted her gaze around to find Harry. Y/N wrapped the comforter around her naked body before lowering her feet to the floor. She smiled seeing at small note latched on the nightstand.

I'm on the kitchen if you wake up and find this note. You can wear my shirt if you want to. I hung it in the closet. H x

She put down the paper. When she was about to go to his closet, she was shocked to see how messy his room was. The sheet was sprawled open, her panties were thrown away from the bed whilst her bra was nowhere to be found. The cushions was laying far in the corner. Were they that wild last night?

No, last night was nothing wild. They didn’t damage the bed nor the linen. She was pretty sure Harry could go wild anytime more than last night if he wanted. Her stomach growled from hunger, the sound made her laugh. She had to get out and meet Harry in the kitchen once she finished dress up.

Her legs were a bit sore when she walked, yet she brushed it off. This wasn't her first time wandering around his massive walk-in closet, she remembered the first time she was in there, her jaw hung open due to the large and luxurious his closet. That day, Harry asked her to get his tie. She got confused since there were so many drawers and wardrobes he had. Well, she would laugh if she remembered that.

Y/N instantly spotted his plain white shirt which was too big for her. Nonetheless, she still wore it. She liked it more than her own shirt since she didn't keep her baggy shirts here.

She did keep spare her clothes in Harry’s wardrobe. Of course, it was Harry idea. Y/N often spent her free time at Harry’s house, and most of them ended with her stayed a night or two. He thought that it would be better if his girlfriend kept some spare clothes.

Screw the bra. There were a few of them in the top drawer but I want freedom this morning.

Y/N didn’t want to snoop around, but seeing Harry's clothes hung neatly was such a sight for herself. Her nose smelt Harry's familiar perfume around the closet – made her want to stay a little bit longer.

Her boyfriend was such a neat freak. Harry arranged his clothes according to the brands, the purpose, and colour. He had two wardrobes dedicated to his favourite designer. Yves Saint Laurent and Gucci. He really loved those two brands, and had a good relationship with their designers. It wasn’t a surprise there was plenty of custom outfit from them that Y/N had never seen before.

Then, her eyes caught a shabby leather journal laid on top of his tie drawer, written an H 1994 in front of it with a picture a child embedded. That must be Harry.

Her curiosity about Harry's childhood pictures made her grabbed the journal. Y/N giggled over his photograph; little Harry was so cute with his brown hair. In the picture he wore a blue shirt underneath the cream coloured overalls, his smile was so big showing his bunny teeth. Sitting at the velvet chair, she opened the journal – hoping to find his childhood pictures. But all she found was writings. At first, she wanted to return it back, but the dates were written made her curious. All of them.

January 11th 2003 I didn't know where is my fault. They keep to hate me

January 15th 2003 Friends are horrible

This wasn’t a photo book. This was his childhood diary. She shouldn’t have opened Harry’s diary, surely it was a secret.

There was no way photo album is in a journal, you stupid girl! Her inner goddess scowled.

Her mind told her to return the journal to its previous place, but her inquisitiveness was too high. She gathered her determination before continuing to read.

February 1st 2003 My birthday and no one knows, except mum

February 9th 2003 Everyone hates me

March 12th 2013 Why he hates me and mum so much?

March 29th 2013 He hurt mum

April 3rd 2013 He hurt me

May 1st 2013 I don't like him

August 18th 2013 Football is nice

August 25th 2013 They love my football

September 1st 2013 Dale was awful. I was crying. Everyone was laughing. Mum was sad.

September 12th 2003 Who was the abusive one? Dale? Father?

September 13th 2003 He kicked me

September 14th 2003 He punched my tummy. It's hurts

September 20th 2003 Dale hit me everywhere. But why I couldn't feel it?

October 1st 2003 That feels nice

October 9th 2003 I can't feel my face

October 25th 2003 Poor little pigeon

November 6th 2003 He's stronger than ever

December 1st 2003 What happened?

Y/N closed the journal harshly, too many conclusions was spinning in her brain. The more she thinking about it, the more theories that emerge. Y/N couldn't just draw a conclusion, her brain urged her to ask Harry about that, but her heart holding it back. She didn’t want herself to fall deeper into his confide, she had to stop before curiosity killed her. With various questions raging inside her head, Y/N returned the journal to its original place and immediately went out to meet her boyfriend.

She could see Harry was cooking from the way he held a pan. His upper body bare due to lack of clothes, his fern tattoos visible due to sweatpants hanging low in his hips. Her eyes went down to his happy trail, reminded her of how good he pounded into her last night. Just imagined it made her shudder.

Y/N smiled of how focused he was when he made breakfast, forehead wrinkled while his tip tongue was sticking out. She was busy adoring him with her body leaned to the door frame. Felt like someone was watching him, Harry averted his gaze. He found his girlfriend watched him with a smile on her face, standing cutely in his shirt that way too baggy for her –exposing her delicate legs. Harry was sure she only wore underwear beneath since the shirt fell on her thighs and she was wearing no pants. Harry saw her semi hard nipples through the fabric. He shook his head instantly, if he glanced at it longer than intended, he might have Y/N as his breakfast.

“Good morning, love. I'm making pancake, should be ready in ten minutes. Do you want anything else?” He asked while flipping the pan.

“Pancake is good.” She hummed, walking towards him. “Be careful, we don't want the pancake to fall, do we?”

“Don't underestimate my ability, baby. Go take a seat, and sit there beautifully.”

Y/N shrugged, pulling a seat near her. A moment after, Harry turned off the stove and put the pancake on her plate. She gave him a quick thanks then laughing when she realised her pancake had a shape of a bear's head. She took a quick glance of Harry's plate, finding one with a shape of frog's head.

“What do you want to put on top of it? I have… berries, honey, maple syrup, powdered sugar, err... jam?” Harry asked with his head dug into his massive fridge.

“Berries will be fine.”

Harry pulled out his head with a bowl of berries and a maple syrup in each hand. His foot closed the fridge door. Y/N thanked him for the berries. She looked at Harry who was pouring maple syrup to his pancake and slice the banana on top of it.

“I didn't know you have this cute pancake mould.” She giggled, “This is too cute to eat! I can't even bear to cut it.”

“I found them when I was opening the top drawer. I forgot that I had it because I never used it.” He shrugged, cutting the pancakes. But, her shrieking made him jump and dropping the knife.

“What's wrong?” He asked while taking the knife, put it on the end and took a new one.

“You destroyed the frog's face!” Y/N gasped then laughing softly. Harry stunned in his seat, then looking at his frog pancake which has been split in two.

“Don't shock me like that, baby. Just eat them. I can make more if you want to keep it as a collection.” He laughed, scooping a piece into his mouth.

“This is delicious but I can't stop thinking about a bear head inside my mouth.” Y/N spoke while chewing her pancakes. Harry just shook his head over the silliness of his girlfriend.

They ate in silence, only the sound of the television and soft noises of cutlery clashing with plates were audible. Their attention was directed on the TV that was broadcasting the graphic of company shares in U.K. Y/N was stunned when she saw Machtig's stock chart that went quite far, almost balance with Erskine at the moment. Both of them are in the top five. She looked at Harry who seems unbothered.

“Polygram did that.” Is all he said, nothing more, like answering the look from Y/N. “It's common in the business world.” He added. Then her mind rolling to a few days back, when Harry told her something about Dale bullied him. And, his writings on that journal about him that made her sad.

“Harry, darling.”

Harry smirked at the way Y/N called him with pet names. He knew very well that his lover wanted to ask something that possible worrying her, because that was starting to become her habit.

“Go on, love.”

“I remember the day when you told me that Dale Jespersen was bullying you when you were a child. Is that... is that true?” She asked softly, “I understand if you don't want to talk about it.”

Harry just stared at her, his face was flat with no emotion. She didn’t know if this is a good or bad sign. She cursed her foolishness deep inside her heart when Harry said nothing.

“Dale Jespersen was my school friend when we went to same primary school in Birmingham – before I moved to Manchester. I used to be the nerd one in my class.” He said, “I never really come play with them. Since one thing I knew that time was... I have to get good grades so my mum would be happy. Apparently, some kids think otherwise. He and his friends always said I was arrogant. Until one day, I thought it was never hurt to try... play with them. I began to open up, sparing my time to play football after school ended – before coming home, even though it just a quick play.”

Y/N silently heard Harry's explanation, want nothing than be a good listener. Harry paused for a while before continuing. His head, which had been looking down, slowly looked her up. His eyes became dull, seemed like he just told her something sad.

“It's okay if you don't want to go forward, darling. I don't have to know the whole story if you feel uncomfortable.” She said with concern. Her hand stretching out to rub his hand. But he just shook his head, ready to continue.

“I became an idol in the field because I could show them my skills in football. He didn't like his attention was taken by me. He made up a story that I beat my mum because according to him, he saw my mother was crying in our yard when he passed by. I confront him, and long story short, he made me his punching bag.”

Y/N gasped, her palm covering her mouth in disbelief. “You didn't do that, did you?”

Harry chuckled, “Who do you believe? Me or him?”

“Of course, i believe you, Harry. I just... didn't expect something like that.” She murmured, “But you're okay now, no grudges yeah?”

Harry leaned back, looking at her with a subtle smirk on his lips. Laughing silently at how clueless this girl in front of him. If only she knew.

Y/N didn't realise that the person who had been talking about Dale's cruelty, have different eyes to someone who made her breakfast this morning. Little did she know, every single word that came out from his mouth, the eyes getting darker than usual.

. . . .

Harry only could curl up, hugging his knees every time his back received a whipped from someone who should protect him. His mother was out, so clearly he couldn't ask anyone for help. He really wanted to cry, but he couldn't. If he cried, the whipped would get stronger.

“You fucking little bullshit!”

Deep inside his heart, he prayed his mother come home soon.

God listened to his prayer when he heard the front door being open. He immediately ran to his bedroom upstairs when the whipped stopped. Harry was breathing rapidly, he must quick search a safe spot in his room. Although he wasn't sure that would protect him well. He locked the door, moving his whatever in his room that he thought was heavy enough to hold the door.

He looked at himself in the mirror, slowly lifted up his shirt. He whimpered when he saw the scar on his back, still fresh and red. He blinked his eyes to let the tears rolling down his cheek. Harry wanted to tell his mother, but he didn't have any bravery.

How could a father do that to a nine year old child?

Harry didn't understand.

Sunday morning was supposedly being fun because you could have quality time with your family. Apparently not for Harry. He woke up when he heard her mother screaming, his feet quickly take him downstair to only find his father was grabbing his mother hair until her head tilted. She looked in pain, his knuckles grip tightly to her roots. Harry was frozen in the stairs, eyes widened to a sight in front of him.

Whatever would happen, he must help his mother.

Then, he ran and yelled. Kicking his father in the legs, made the older man stumbled a bit. Harry hurried to his mother, asking if she was okay, and hug her. But, the father didn't like it. He grabbed Harry's collar and dragging him to the floor. His breath choked up when he felt the father's hand circling around his neck, putting pressure in it.

Her mother was screaming in tears, watching her husband strangled her son. She tried to let go of him, but he shoved her back and slapped her head.

She must be able to protect her child, and herself. Ignoring the burning sensation on her face, she pulled her husband and took him out of the house.

“You fucking whore! Your little bastard must be taught a lesson!”

She crinkled her face when the scent of alcohol and cigarettes wafted from his mouth. “Get out! Don't come to me and my son again!”

The father looked at her and the small boy next to her in disgust. He spitted to the asphalt and went away. Harry was silent, but not with his mother. He could hear her sad cry. The only thing he could do now is; hug her. As he did now. Didn't care if they look pathetic in their front yard.

Two weeks was nice without his father. He didn't come home, and Harry prayed he wouldn't be. Until the nightmare paid them a visit as his father show up in their door, looking for his mother. The pathetic man was asking for some money to his wife. But of course she wouldn't give him. She was struggling enough to work and get a nice pay job, how the hell she gave him money from her hard work for free?

Everything went fast. Harry defended his mother, but end up his father beating him up in their yard. His mother was laying unconscious in the living room due to punched she got. Harry accepted every hit, every jab, every punch. He wanted to fight. But he didn't want his mother to be next his target if he did that. He could only surrender.

What could a small child like him do? He didn't know.

Every kick, every smack, every pain. He absorbed well. Until he only could feel anger, hate, hurt. No, he wouldn't let this pathetic old man beat him again. Not him. Not his mother. He smiled through the pain. No, he couldn't feel the pain. He didn't feel any pain. He felt numb. It was like a tickle to him. He rose, holding his father's hands.

How came?

He endured effortlessly. The last thing he remembers was, he gave the man in front of him – who was confused, a flat smile before pinning his father's hand to the opposite direction. A small crack made him screaming in pain, but made Harry smile in satisfied.

Harry felt strange, his father still tried to make his mother and his life miserable. Yes, he was abusive. But a few days back, he only threw things when he mad, didn't do anything physically. He should have be relieved a little, but his little head had some questions.

Harry didn't know why his mother did not leave him already. If they were hurt, why they should stay?

Once abusive, would still abusive.

His father was acting up again. Harry was in his room, doing his homework when his father broke down his door and rummaged the room – like was looking for something.

“Where is it?” Voice hoarse, hands opening every single drawer in the room.

“What are you looking for?” Harry asked.

“You should be keeping some money from Anne, right? Where?”

“I won't tell you. I need them to buy some books.”

Hearing what his son just said, it did something in him. He didn't like the answer. Then, he stomped to Harry, pulling his shirt. Harry was scared, his body trembled so badly.

“I need them more than you! Fuck that stupid books, I want the money!”

Harry shook his head, his mother was working her ass off to be able to provide what he needs. An education, for a better future. There was no way he would give up the money for his father's unnecessary wants. He cried in pain when his father hit his head, throwing him to the corner, and kick his legs. Over and over again.

In the blink of an eye, his father was shocked when he felt pain in his head. He looked at Harry in disbelief, his palm felt wet – and realise it was blood dripping from his back head. Harry in front of him was panting hard, his face was showing no emotion, with the hand gripping a brick. How come he had a brick in his bedroom?

Both of them heard a gasp from the door, finding Anne standing right there. Harry could see his father ran to her, and yelling about what he did to him.

“He hit my head with a brick! Your fucking son keep bricks in his room to attack me!”

Anne averted his gaze towards Harry, looking for evidence. “Is that true, Harry?” Her voice quivered. Harry shook his head, his expression was flat, no guilt at all. “No, I'm not holding anything in my hands. See?”

He stretched out his bare hand, no bricks were seen. His father yelled again, accused him of being a liar because he was sure that Harry hit him with bricks. Anne sighed and led her husband out. Leaving Harry alone. She didn't know who to believe. But clearly, Harry never lied to her.

Little did they know, Harry was laughing right after them both gone. His eyes glanced at the corner of his bed, where the brick was laid.

After that accident, his parents never talk about it. Either Anne did believe him, or his father really thought he was hallucinating. Harry really didn't care.

Christmas was only a few days. When other families worked together to decorate their house, it wasn't for Harry. His father's drunken face was somewhere they didn't know, only Harry and his mother were ecstatic about the eve. His favourite moment was when its snows in the morning and at night. If people sometimes complain about the thickness of the snow, Harry liked it instead. He liked that white – soft thing.

He ran outside when realising the snow was showering that morning, his thick clothes protected him from the cold weather outside. He sat on the snow in his yard, looking at the empty streets. Then, he saw a white pigeon sheltering under a tree from the snow. It was alone, without a friend. Harry barely recognised it if only he wasn't under a tree, its colour was almost like snow.

Without him knowing, his feet brought him close to it. He squatted in front of the pigeon, and strangely the bird was not afraid. It let itself be lifted by Harry, feeling the warmth from the hands of the human who was holding it.

“Why are you alone? Where's your family?” Harry hummed, stroking its feathers. “You must feel sad because you're alone.. in this cold morning.”

Harry kept stroking its feathers, patted the small head. “You're with no family, are you?”

Then, his hand stopped – but still holding the pigeon, as aware of something. He lifted the pigeon so its parallel with his eyes. “You better be with your other friends and family up there, not here. In here.. is cruel. Too cruel for small things like you.”

Harry didn't remember anything until his flustered face looking at the pigeon in horror. It was laying stiff with blood almost covering its small body. The blood staining the white feathers. He gasped when he found a bloody knife not far from his feet. Both of his hands also were covered by the pigeon's blood.

What did he do?

His heart was racing, hands trembling, tears were falling down to his face. He was so scared.

Harry could hear his mother screaming from his behind. He glanced back, saw his mother standing there with a shocked face, scared.. he couldn't even describe it. Then he saw the lifeless pigeon again in his hand. He did kill it.

. . . .

“See! Your fucking son is a murderer!”

Harry whimpered in the corner, his father was back and now having an argument with his mother. They didn't even have proper Christmas celebration since his father step his foot in the Christmas morning. He heard Anne confronted Harry about killing the poor pigeon. That was the worst morning for Harry, how could his mother bring it up in the Christmas morning!? They should gather around to open the presents instead of accusing him of something like... that.

“I was asking Harry, not you.”

“Now you believe me. Once, he hit me with brick. Second, he killed an animal. What's next? Burning this fucking house on fire?! This psychopath's little shit must be taken away before he harms others!”

Harry just shook his head, palms covering his ears. He didn't want to hear it.

No.

“How could you call your son a psychopath's?! He's just a child. He did know nothing!”

He couldn't take it anymore. He didn't want his Christmas turned into a nightmare. He got up, running to his room, slamming the door and locked it. He cried and cried. He didn't know why he killed the pigeon. The last thing he remembered was.. patting its head.

Christmas walked so the new year eve could come closer. He didn't have anything to celebrate. After the Christmas incident, his mother was keeping a distance from him and talked to him as needed. It broke his heart. Every night before he went sleep, he always wondering.. why his mother didn't believe him. Why he did that. Why God always makes him sad.

It was the morning after the new year, last night he spent the count down with sitting on the roof. Waiting for fireworks to appear in the night sky even he didn't like the sound of it. It was better than the sound of silence.

He bet his father was out last night, probably went to a local bar and downing for alcoholic drinks there. He didn't care. Yet, then he heard screaming from the kitchen, he saw her mother try to shove away from his father.

“Give me that money, Anne! I need them!”

“No! I don't have any. Go away!”

“You fucking liar!” He saw his father hit his mother with cutting board to her head. Harry scared, really scared. Didn't what to do. But, the time he saw blood dripping to her face, he felt anger burned into him. He ran to them, taking the vegetable knife from the counter and stab his father's arm.

His father was screaming in agony, while his mother stared at him with utter shock – still gripping her bloody head. Harry was standing there with a knife in his hand, watching his father grimacing in pain. His mother could see the flat emotion in Harry's face. No scared look. No anger look. Nothing.

Harry was locked up in his room after that. He didn't know what his parents would do with their bloody wounds. He did care about his mother, but no with his father. He just sleeps, waiting for whatever would happen tomorrow.

It felt like he had only slept for a few hours when he woke up forcefully, he was dragged from his bed by someone.

Who else was if it wasn't his father?

Harry tried to run away, but he felt weak because he cried all night in his sleep.

Where was his mother?

He was forced into the car, both of his hands were tied together. His body was held by the safety belt in the back seat. His eyes were covered with cloth, so he didn't know where he was going.

He felt the car stopped after one hour drive, he thought. He heard the door opened, following by harsh tug of the cloth covering his eyes. His father untied his hand and pulled his out from the car.

Harry was looking around. There were lots of little kids here, but where it is?

He really wanted to run away, but he didn't dare because he didn't want his mother to get hit again because of him. His priority now was his mother safety.

“His name is Harry. I found him was crying in front of his parents grave. So I think it's best to take him here, so someone can take care of him.”

His head lifted up, looking at his father in disbelief. What did he mean?

“Of course. Did you relate to him?”

“No, I was asking him if he has a family. But he's alone himself.”

The lady who was speaking with his father, crouching down to his level. She seemed nice, smiling at him. But his smile faltered when he heard those words that crashing down his life.

“Hi, I'm Elis. We will take good care of you. Don't worry, Harry. You will get a new family in this orphanage.”

. . . .

“What are you planning for Christmas?”

Last night, Abbie called Y/N if she could get breakfast together this morning since both of them wasn't so busy at the moment. Of course Y/N glad to hear that, it had been a while since she met her friend. Now here they were, having meals in the little breakfast cafe near the Battersea Square. Harry drove her here since she was staying at his house for the weekend.

“I'll go home as well as Harry. We'll spend the time with our own family before heading to Sorrento for New Year together.” Y/N answered before taking a sip of her hot chocolate. It was an early day in December, and London weather was getting colder every day. So, she needed something to warm her body.

“Italy? How nice! But I prefer to go there in Summer, you know? Warm sun, warm air..” Abbie squealed.

“Harry was the one who had the idea. It was more than enough for me. I can't complain anything to him.” She shrugged, “How about you?”

Abbie just laughed, “My mum wanted to come here, so I guess I'll spend Christmas and New Year in here.”

The rest of the time they just walked about the time together when they were at school, playing back memories that memorable for them. The clock was ticking at past eleven when they decided to go. Besides, Y/N really didn't want to lave Harry for too long. Abbie offered her a ride since she would be passing Lots Road, so she would dropping Y/N off there.

When Y/N arrived at Harry's penthouse, Suzanne was in the kitchen. She bid a quick hello to her before heading to Harry's bedroom. She let out a small shriek when her eyes found Harry sprawled out in his bed just in his briefs, laid out like a starfish.

“What are you doing?” Y/N giggled, crawling to his side. Harry tilted his head towards her, “I was running while you were meeting Abbie, now I'm exhausted.”

“Why you don't take a shower?” She asked, her finger brushing off his baby hair on his forehead. She gasped when Harry flipped her body so she was on top him, hands gripping her bum.

“I was waiting for you. Maybe we can take a shower together?” He wiggled his eyebrow. Y/N snuggled to him, smothering his neck with some kisses. “I already taking the shower. Now, take your ass to the shower. And wash the sticky sweats off your body.”

“Didn't you realise you get the sticky sweat from the way you plopped down on me, darling?”

Harry let out a humoured laugh when his girlfriend whined after she had just realised. He shoved her body away gently, and walking to his bathroom. “I will be happy to waiting for you under the shower.”

And after that, he vanished into the bathroom. Y/N then sat up, looking at her both arms that now wet from Harry's sweat. In fact, she didn't want to complain because his sweat smells good. And yeah, she should take another shower because how sticky her body from his sweat.

When she walked into the bathroom, Harry's naked figure clearly visible. Although the hot steam covered the glass wall, she could see Harry's standing under the shower with his back facing her. Y/N closed the door slowly, not making any noise. She stripped down her clothes until she's naked, and join him in the shower. The way her sneaking arms hugged his torso made Harry didn't flinch at all. Like he's already expecting it.

Y/N peppering kisses on his neck, shoulder, all around his back with her fingers rubbing his stomach. She gave him kitten licks to his earlobe before sucked it, made Harry whimpered. His hands pumping his length slowly. Y/N brushed her wet hair from her face, so it wouldn't block her eyes. She bit her boyfriend's shoulder to expect leaving marks on there. She loved to claim what she had.

Her hand went down to his V-line, before grabbing his length and help him to pump it while her other hand slid up and down his nipple in teasing way.

That's it. That's the last strike. Harry couldn't let her.

Y/N squealed when Harry flipped them both, pushing her body against the wall and grab her legs so they wrapped around him. She quickly put her hands around his neck. Luckily, her back was against the glass and Harry holding her bum, keeping her legs around his waist. If not, she could slip on the slippery tile. Both of them panting quickly, she could feel her hard nipple pressed onto his toned chest. Meanwhile, his length resting it limb between her thighs.

“Thought you would come, darling.” He whispered, booping her nose with his. “What was that behaviour?”

“I just want to help my boyfriend.” She shrugged, fingers curling his back hair. Since the shower was no longer right above their head, Y/N could see Harry clearly. His soaked wet face made her fantasy went wild. She gulped as Harry pressed down his length to her centre, rubbing his tip up and down.

“Do you feel that? This is what you've done, baby.” He mumbled in her ear, “Hard and ready, only for you.”

“Only for me?” Y/N asked for recognition, her fingertips digging to his shoulder. She looked down to find Harry's length was ready. Hard, erect on its glory. Harry nodded, licking her earlobe. “Only for my baby.”

She brought his head to her, so she could crashing her lips on his. It didn't take long for their tongues to wrestle with each other. The only sound they heard was their lips ravishing each other, even the sound of the shower only sounded faint to their ears. Their body was hot, burning in flame. The hot steam made everything getting more intense.

He ran his finger over her centre, only found her sticky wetness. Harry smirked, his ego was getting high.

“You're so wet, bet it taste sweet too.” He mumbled in her lips.

Harry detached his lips from her, so he could suck her nipple while the other one being rubbed and pinched by his finger. His grip was strong enough to keep her only in one his arm. Y/N felt her centre aching, shaking... need someone to take care of it. Her moan was Harry favourite sound in the world, nothing else. She whimpered, arching her back when Harry blew air to her hard and stiffened nipples – making her grip on his hair tightened.

Without her knowing, Harry pushed his index finger inside her centre. Rolling out slowly, yet slammed hard into her. His index fingers curled up inside of her, with his middle finger joined afterwards.

“Oh, Harry. Oh!”

Harry groaned, moving his fingers in and out faster. He smashed his lips again to her, to muffled her loud moan. He could feel his length getting harder than before. His girl was trembling under his touch. He kissed her cheek before pulled his fingers out. But, her pleasure still going strong.

“Harry..”

“Not finish, baby.”

She cried when Harry teased her, rubbing her entrance with his tip. Her legs shook terribly. She wanted him so bad.

“Harry, please... please I can't– ”

“Please what, baby?” He hummed on her neck, leaving marks on his favourite spots.

Every whimper, every moans...

Harry left his marks on her neck, throat, shoulder, chest, breast...

“Beg for me, and I'll give you what you want.”

“I need you, please. I need you inside of me, right now, baby.”

“Uh-huh, you forget something.” He shook his head, smirking.

“I need you to fuck me, ravish me, do whatever your heart desire.” She whined.

“Oh, fuck!”

Y/N choked when Harry slid in his length in only one move. Sometimes it surprised her; the way her body quickly adjusted to his size inside of her, he was huge and thick, it was never enough for her to feel him. Harry paused for a moment before moving his precious length.

“Tell me if you want to stop.” He hissed, placing his forehead on her with hands gripping her bum.

“Move, H.”

Her words always being his command. It was what always Harry said to her.

He slowly rolled in and out, palms still gripping her bum. They both moaned wildly. Y/N clutched Harry's shoulder while he dropped his head to hers. She cried every time Harry was pulling out then slammed into her, pushed his length deeper as he could.

Y/N felt she was getting close, her full cunt trembled from the way Harry rolled his length. She squinted her eyes, breath panting wildly.

“I'm close, H. Oh my god.. Oh!”

“You wanna cum? Cum for me, baby. Cum on me, please.”

Harry still rocking wildly into her, meanwhile, the girl in front of him was shuddering. From the way Y/N arched her back, he knew she was about to come. In just a few seconds, he felt she came on him. He could feel her wetness smeared on his length.

“Harry...”

He groaned, hearing her soft yet exhausted voice whispering into his ear. His brows furrowed, mouth parting. He shut his eyes closed, feeling himself getting close. Y/N cried out of the how fast he rocked her, the way he slammed back and forth made her wanted to pass out anytime. Before Harry got the chance, he slid out of her on time – seeing his thick cum squirted from his tip all over her and him. Slowly, he lowered Y/N legs, quickly support her body because he knew how weak her legs were.

“Thank you, baby.” He smiled, kissing her cheek. “That was amazing.”

“It was.. better than the one we had in the bathtub.” She sighed, “My back was sore due to clashing down the bathtub tile.”

“So, looks like bathtub sex is the last on the list?” Harry just laughing, “C'mon, let's clean our body.”

“I can't even stand properly, H.” Y/N pouted, hand still on his shoulder. Harry looked down her trembling legs, “All right, just hold onto me.”

. .

Please excuse some errors.

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boopypastaissalty · 4 years

Text

We Are Not Broken

The Session

Dr. Flemmings cleared his throat. “Now that all of you are here, let’s begin. The first thing I want you all to do is tell everyone what happened to you. It’s okay that you are here and you all have had similar experiences. This is a LGBTQ+ safe zone, so don’t be afraid. Who wants to start?”

Everyone looked at each other, none wanting to go first. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Logan took a deep breath, “I was kidnapped and tortured because of my gender and sexuality, along with Roman and Remus,” the twins both flinched at the statement, remembering all too well what had happened and what they had all been through together, “I have scars all over my body from the various weapons and beatings. It was hell, we were all malnourished and suffering, and I remember having to watch our kidnappers beat the everloving, pardon my language, f*ck out of Roman and Remus, I don’t remember the times I was beaten all too well, but it was all because some people thought not being cishet was a crime, found the twins and then found me.”

Dr. Flemmings nodded, “Use whatever language you need to, Logan”

“Does Spanish count?” Roman piped up, both twins were multilingual, both parents being native spanish speakers, their father from Spain and their mother from Mexico, in high school Roman took French and Remus took German and begrudgingly, at their parents request, taught each other and had become proficient in both languages. Sometimes the twins talked to each other in a strange mix of English, Spanish, French, and German, something they called Enspanchan.

“Preferably a language we all can understand, Roman”

Roman slumped a little, “Ay, lo siento” he said under his breath.

“Logan, do you have anything else to say?” Dr. Flemmings asked.

Logan shook his head and fidgeted with his hands, he had never been good at processing strong emotions, he usually distracted himself by researching and educating himself on random topics, incorporating them into his Sign Language lectures at the school he worked at.

“Uh well, I guess it’s my turn,” Patton said, interrupting Logan’s train of thought, “I was taking a walk, and some guy noticed the strap to my binder and commented on it. I didn’t think much of it, I ignored him and kept walking, but then he grabbed me and started calling me… horrible things and he dragged me into the nearby woods and…” Patton took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, “He took off all my clothes and destroyed my binder. He told me I’d be beautiful if I didn’t try so hard to be a man. He called me an ‘exotic beauty’ and kept asking me what kind of asian I am. And then he started touching me and…” Patton started full fledged crying, not wanting to say it. He got quieter and almost whispered, “He r*ped me… And now I’m pregnant.”

Everyone was silent for a few long seconds, Virgil finally broke the silence “That’s… horrible. What are you going to do with the baby? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Patton took another deep breath and said “I’m probably going to put them up for adoption. Someone out there probably really wants a baby and can’t have one themselves. I’m not saying everyone should do that, though, I mean everyone’s different.”

Dr. Flemmings took note of how much Patton was crying, “You feel broken, don’t you?”

“I feel broken, violated, I wish time would just stop for at least a little while. I wish I could turn back the clock to last month and tell myself to not go on a walk that day, but I know I can’t. I feel like I’m not trans enough, like maybe I’m not actually a man.”

Virgil looked at Patton, “Bullsh*t. You’re trans enough. You are just as manly as you need to be. You’re f*cking valid.” He clapped for emphasis. This was unusual behavior for him, as he didn’t like to have attention drawn to himself, but he hated it when other trans people didn’t feel valid, mainly because he knew how it felt.

“Well, kiddo, I don’t know about all that, just look at me”

“You. Are. A. Man. And. That’s. What. Matters.”

“Fine, you win”

During this exchange, Janus had been writing out their story and held up their hand in a sort of “Stop dooting your horns, you middle school band class” gesture. Everyone looked at them, they just seemed to have that presence, the type that made people shut up and pay attention without really trying. Janus passed around the notepad, which said: After a concert, a lady came up to me, nothing new there, and was haggling me about being nonbinary and how I’m just a “broken man” and then all of a sudden, I don’t really remember this well, I felt something swipe across my throat and there was a strange warm liquid coming from my neck and then it started to hurt. The next thing I knew, there was yelling and I was on the ground with my friend Ethan, he’s the drummer, Hel, pressing down on my neck. Lola, our bassit, Truth, was calling 911. I think I passed out, and when I woke up in the hospital, I was very confused. I was on so many painkillers that I was basically high out of my mind and the most important thing to me at that moment, for some reason, was chocolate chip cookies. I specifically remember being distraught that no one would bring me cookies because I couldn’t communicate that I wanted some. Anyways, that’s not important. This person probably ended my career, the one thing I actually wanted to do with my life, and I don’t know what to do about it. I might never be able to talk, let alone perform, ever again. Also some dumb*ss took a video of it and put it on YouTube and so the whole world knew before I had even arrived at the hospital.

Once everyone had read what was on the notepad, they all stared at Janus. They looked down at their legs. After a moment, Patton got up and walked over to Janus and touched their shoulder. “What else do you like to do?” he asked.

Janus shrugged.

Virgil suddenly blurted out, remembering the chaos after that concert a few weeks ago, “Wait someone put that on YouTube? How has that not been taken down?”

Janus shrugged, not knowing why either, and pulled out their phone. They found the video and played it, looking away. Patton and Virgil looked away from the video, while Logan and the twins watched, all three feeling bad that they couldn’t seem to pull away from the chaos happening on screen, like some sort of morbid scene in a TV show.

When the video finished, Logan, Roman, and Remus were in stunned silence while Janus fumbled to keep the next video from playing, the “What’s in your pants?” meme, which was when one time Janus and the rest of Duality were on a talk show, all in costume, and the host asked Janus the dreaded question, “What’s in your pants?” and Janus had immediately responded by pulling things out of their pockets and listing them, the items getting more obscure as they went “Phone, wallet, keys, worm-on-a-string, tiny rainbow plastic babies, a dead mouse, Quetzalcoatl? [Quetzalcoatl is Janus’s pet hognose snake], and a barbie head.” the clip had spread like wildfire and had become a large part of what Janus’s stage persona, Deceit, had been known for. Everyone in the band had their own costume, usually involving half of the face being different from the other, Janus’s Deceit costume had a Jack the Ripper vibe and they had makeup to look like scales on the left side of their face. Ethan’s Hel was an all black suit and the left half of his body was made to look like dead, rotting flesh. Lola’s Truth had a black and white lace dress and her makeup was meant to make her look inhuman and had several extra eyes on the right side of her face. The final member, Tori’s Valhalla looked like a norse warrior, the right side of their face looked scarred and they wore an eyepatch over their right eye, like Odin.

“That kind of reminds me of what happened to me,” Virgil said with a shudder once the video was over. “I was hanging out with my friend, May, after your,” Virgil pointed at Janus, “concert and ended up crashing at her place. I tend to sleep pretty heavily, so I was surprised when I woke up on the autopsy table for the mortuary science program at the college I used to go to. I had barely woken up before I felt something that felt like a punch in my abdomen. I saw May, she had a knife and looked angry, she stabbed me four more times, repeatedly calling me a dirty tr*nny. I don’t think she realized I was awake. Thing is, she was the one who supported me the most during my transition and always had my back when I had first come out. That’s what hurt the most. She had apparently secretly hated me all these years and just now was releasing all that. I didn’t dare move until she had left and I started to crawl towards the desk phone at the professor's desk. I was almost there when I passed out. I woke up again to the professor shaking me, he’d always liked me and was concerned about me. He told me he had called 911 and shortly after I was hauled into an ambulance and carted away to the hospital, swimming in and out of consciousness. I think May was planning on killing me and having me be found dead on the autopsy table as a morbid surprise for the mortuary science teacher and his first period class of that day.” He was trying to control his breathing and he felt his heart rate speeding up. Virgil hoped that no one would notice and call him out on it.

Janus started writing and then showed Virgil: Was May at the concert too?

“Yeah why?” Breath, dammit, breath. Virgil chided himself

Janus scrunched their eyebrows and started writing again: What does she look like?

“Do you think-” Virgil cut himself off, took in a deep breath, and found a picture of May on his phone. She had a black bob with straight bangs and wore dark makeup.

Janus looked at the picture, That’s her, they wrote. One thing I didn’t mention before was that she had gotten away.

Suddenly Remus started talking “I’d stim and they’d hurt me.” Roman looked at his brother, remembering how Remus would make weird sounds, start shaking his leg, or drumming his fingers on whatever surface he could get to, and after a while their kidnappers had realized that Remus’s fidgeting and sounds were him stimming, one of his ways to try and calm himself down, started beating him more when he did. “And it started happening more and more because I was more stressed and then I had to force myself to not and I had so much pent up, that everything was a million times louder, even the smallest touches were too much, and my head felt so light and it was like I was feeling everything and nothing all at once, like I was both on fire and numb and I don’t know how to describe it.” Even now, Remus was trying to keep himself from stimming, he had his hands firmly grasped together and his legs were crossed unnaturally tight and he was visibly getting upset.

This was the first time Roman had even heard Remus talk about it. He hadn’t realized how much Remus had suffered and how different it was from how Logan and Roman had suffered. No wonder he was so despondent. He was overloaded in every way. Roman noticed how tight Remus was wound up and pulled something out of his pocket, a long, green silicone fidget toy that had small bumps on it for texture. “Hey,” Roman addressed his brother and handed him the fidget toy, “breath.” Remus took it and fidgeted, reminding himself that it was safe to stim now. “You never said how bad it was for you.” Roman said quietly.

Remus nodded, “I didn’t know how to say it.” He had nothing else to say.

Roman looked around after a long moment of silence. “I felt powerless. I’m almost always able to help, but I couldn't do anything. It was so awful only being able to watch, almost worse than getting beat regularly.” Roman fell silent again, not knowing what else to say.

“You feel like you have to be the hero, don’t you? You feel obligated to do it?” Dr. Flemmings asked. Roman thought for a moment and then nodded. “Since we’re coming to a close, I want to tell you all that you all did a good job today. Here’s what I want you all to do: Patton, read Galileo by Pual Tran, I think you’d benefit from it. Janus, I want you to write, I don’t care what you write, whether it be a song, a poem, a backtrack, whatever, as long as you express yourself with it. Virgil, I want you to use methods to regulate your breathing like the 4, 7, 8 technique and I want you to try carrying around a stress ball, same goes for you, Remus. Logan, I want you to express yourself more and come up with a way for you to get your feelings out in a safe manner. Roman, I want you to think about why you feel obligated to be the hero. And lastly I think you all can benefit from each other, as you have all had similar experiences. Thank you all for attending.”

Everyone started saying their goodbyes and started leaving. Janus met up with an older guy in the lobby who nudged them and said “Happy birthday, kid.” The older guy looked a little sad, like he was remembering something tragic. Everyone heard him wish Janus a happy birthday and started wishing them a happy birthday as well.

Patton looked at the guy and said “Is this your dad, Janus?”

Janus shook their head no and at the same time the guy said “I’m their brother. John, by the way.”

“You guys are siblings? Wow! I never would have guessed!”

Janus looked slightly embarrassed, everyone always confused John for their dad, which wasn’t too far off as John and his wife had raised them. “Yeah the twenty-one year age gap doesn’t help,” John said, lowering his gaze somewhat, just wanting Patton to change the subject.

Janus broke off from John for a moment, wrote something down and handed it to Patton. It said: He’s a little sensitive about family history. Mom died while having me and we don’t know who my dad is, so he had to raise me. That’s why he looks a little sad today.

Patton’s mouth formed a silent “O” as he slipped the paper into his pocket and waved goodbye “Have a nice day!”

John looked at his sibling, “What did that say?”

I said you were having a bad day.

“Oh, okay” he believed the white lie.

Logan was on the phone “I know dad, you’ve told me the story every year for as long as I can remember. I’m about to get in the car, so I’ll call you back”

John looked at Logan and whispered to Janus “What are their pronouns?”

He/him Janus wrote

“He looks and sounds a lot like the doctor who delivered you.”

Janus shrugged and started walking towards their car, a black Jeep, and got in, deciding to go to the cafe that John worked at, knowing that John had to go to work, and besides, they were hungry.

Masterpost

#sanders sides au #we are not broken #the tea is being spilled #hehe

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reddogf13 · 3 years

Text

Smoke & Mirrors ch 1

Pennywise x Beverly

summery: a confused Beverly suddenly realizing she's in a house with no memory of her past 5 years. dating a strange man named Robert grey and a voice warning her in her mind to not trust him. informing her a frightful list of rules to keep her memory from the man. don't let him know you're scared, don't look him in the eyes. easier said then done while she dates and lives with him.

status: In progress

rated: M - fowl language and gore

previous chap: None

next chap: Smoke & Mirrors ch 2

_____________________________________

~ch:1 Through the fog~

It was a bright golden early morning over the town of Derry. Starting just like any other, yet something was … different. Beverly was inside her kitchen chopping up some bacon to add to a omelet she just started on for breakfast. Her smooth chopping movements slowing to a stop. Pausing to stare down at her simple task.

“... what am I doing?” finding herself suddenly lost. Everything was suddenly new and unknown to her despite this being her kitchen, her … house. “ what? … my house? Where? ...” stopping to look around. Alarmed that her memory was both giving a sense of things being the way they are, while also terribly wrong. “whats going on?! Where am I?! How did I get here?!” her mind raced. Scanning over everything to grasp at some memory of what the hell was going on. Fear tightening her chest to make the world spin on lack of air.

Leaning against the kitchen counter to catch herself from fainting. Now she was trying to remember anything from years back. What date she bought the house? Cant remember. What her job is? Cant remember. What she did a few months ago? Cant remember. What was yesterday? Cant remember. What she did before cutting that bacon? Cant remember. Was she suffering Alzheimer's? What was the cause of this massive blackout?

A males voice breaking through her panic to grab her attention. “Beverly?” he calmly spoke her name. She didn't look at him, her body outright refusing. Some sense of memory coming to the front out of her memory blackout.

Don't look at him

it was a warning from some part of her. Who was he? Why was he here in the house with her? Did she know him? Were they close at all? Her mind slowly answering for her. “his name is Robert grey and you're not as close despite what you may see or hear.” so much more details that only made her more confused. She shouldn't look at him, but if he was a threat she had to face him at some point. Turning around a little too fast to face him. Taking in what she saw of him quickly in a single look over.

A very tall man with pale skin, red hair, grey blue eyes dressed in clothes that looked a little old fashion. A dark duster coat over a dark brown vest with that over a white shirt. His pants a dark navy down to a pair of black boots. He was young and incredibly handsome that Beverly would blush if it weren't for her crisis right now. “are you alright?” he asked softly.

Beverly looked around nervously on how to answer. “uh, I … i-i don't feel well.” answering truthfully. She wanted to get out, away from him, and run far away.

“do you want to lay down?”

“ uh, i- I want to see a doctor.”

this caught his attention to be more concerned. “okay, I'll drive you. How do you feel?” after clicking off the stove he helped her along through the house that felt extremely familiar, however it was extremely different in some way. Stepping through a door into the garage into a car.

Sitting down helping her shaking legs get a moment to regather their strength. “should I jump from the car? Should I run as soon as the garage door opens?” fear having her slowly suffocate. startled when the garage door loudly opened for Robert to pull the car out.

Driving along she saw so many things different about the town. The feeling of the familiar VS recognized changes becoming over whelming. Knowing all these houses that were brand new, yet recognizing how this area was once dirt, trees, and broken sidewalks lining a horribly pot hole covered road. She at least knew she was still in Derry. Things seeming to appear more the same in the middle of town. Aside from stores closed or replaced at some point. Getting out of the car overly quick in the small doctors office parking lot. Rushing inside to the counter ahead of grey to gain some space.

Leaning on the front counter working to hold her body from physically shaking. “i need to see a doctor.” the secretary about to speak, but was interrupted. “right now.” Beverly urged the importance to not be shooed away due to lack of appointment made. Nervousness spiking as Robert caught up with her at the counter. Startled again by someone else calling her name.

“Bev! What are you doing here?” a girl her age happily came over to greet her. Slowing to a stop with concern at how Beverly was looking. “whoa, are you alright?”

“uhh, no. ...jess … I am not feeling to good and waiting for a doctor.” her mind bringing forth some information on the cheerful women. Getting a much more comfortable sense of actually knowing this person. A whole history coming forth that brought some calmness.

Jess was a cheerful girl she met during college classes required for her fashion degree. She always wore bright flowing dresses and was highly optimistic. They regularly hanged out at party's or doing camping trips during the breaks to get away from the main town. They were close friends for many years and had no bad feelings from their time together.

Jess turning concerned off what Beverly said. “oh, you okay? Whats wrong? Got some bad food poisoning or that nasty flu running around? I just got the flu shot 5 minutes ago.”

“uh, maybe.” she slightly waved off to wait for the doctor. Being sure to keep her gaze away from Robert standing near by.

Him stepping in to talk for her. “she got sick this morning while making breakfast and wanted to rush down here.” setting a hand on one of her shoulders. An action that looked comforting, but was anything but for her. Shrinking from the touch to practically run as soon as a doctor came for her. “uh, wait here. I need to talk with the doctor alone.” she spoke quickly to keep him from following any longer. Rushing into the doctors office to breath some air of relief at getting somewhat away.

The doctor noticing her behavior was slow to start his questions. “okay miss, marsh … how are you feeling?”

“i cant remember anything.” she got out right away. “ I've lost all my memory's for the past years. I don't know who I am with or how Derry looks, or whats going on in my life. It feels like I woke up from a coma this morning.” she spoke quicker and quicker into almost a crying breakdown. Needing the doctor to help calm her.

“okay, calm down or you may make your condition worse. Do you take any medication?”

“no, I don't think I do.”

“had any head injury's or been in an accident. Like a car collision or high fall?”

she wiped away some tears.“i don't remember if I did.”

the doctor wrote something on a clip bored. “okay, I'll check your records. If that's not the case we'll take some tests. A check up and blood work. Then possibly the bigger ones like a brain scan will be scheduled at the larger Derry hospital. Relax here while I get a nurse.” the doctor left her alone in the small office.

Beverly questioning herself if this was a health issue. “no, somethings wrong and it has to do with that Robert grey. Who is he and where did I meet him?!” focusing hard back on what little she just grasped in memory. She was in college for fashion design hanging out with Jess later meeting her other close friends Amy and Lisa, throughout the years. Lots of boring school that she really didn't mind forgetting. Their graduation from the college.

Her and jess getting a job in the same field for the same company. A grand job working outfits for a huge runway show coming up. The show turning out amazingly well then there was a huge after party. Then she ran into him. Introducing himself as Robert grey and despite charming everyone else, there was something Beverly didn't trust about him. Trying to avoid him like the plague while he stalked after her. Being extremely friendly like he was desperate for her friendship, but she wasn't having it. Expecting his reasons to be for sex back at his place.

Then he managed to catch her in a crowd. She wasn't cornered, surrounded by people and yet something happened in that moment. She looked back to face him with a cold glare right into his eyes and then the darkness just surrounded her. Everything after that is gone up until this very morning. It felt like this happened years ago, but exactly how long she wasn't sure. Peeking onto a computer screen in the room she could see the small date in the very corner.

2/27/ 2002. 5 years had passed since that after party. 5 years missing from her memory she felt instantly sick. “What happened and what did he do to me?! Has he been drugging me all these years?! That cant be, Jess or someone would have noticed me acting differently!” holding herself back from vomiting while standing next to a trash can just in case.

When the nurse came in she was asked more questions. Being given a regular check up with everything seeming only a little high due to stress. The doctor returned with her records being very empty of any accidents aside from some injury's after her and her childhood friends explored the water drainage system.

A small chuckle brought up from the memory. It certainly wasn't a case of them exploring. She was kidnapped by a demonic child eating clown. That is something she will never forget. Or the boys who saved her after she was taken. Saddened that after high school graduation they all separated to follow their dreams involving various colleges across the USA. Richie headed to LA for a talk show. Eddie followed to do behind the scene work with him. Ben went to new York for architecture, Bill went somewhere north west to get out in the country for peace and quiet to write. Stanley moved with his family and the same happened to mike after farm work wasn't needed much in Derry.

Derry had been growing and with that more houses had to be made. Mom and pop small stores couldn't compete with the larger chains moving in that replaced them. It was both good for Derry to get so much more opportunity coming in while sad to see childhood places disappear. The lush forests near by now replaced by rows and rows of houses. She sighed with a rub of her face as the doctors scheduled with her more tests. Mentality exhausted after being awake for maybe a few hours. Somewhat grateful that all her alone time was allowing her to build a foundation to her surroundings.

Building a shaky history to recall in the hazy years she lost. Memory's of hanging out with her friends. Building a career she now ran all on her own in fashion. Those memory's nice and clear until he entered her vision. It suddenly went all away until the next moment she took her eyes away from him. Some other memory's coming forth that weren't so pleasant. A male shouting violently at her followed by blows of pain. Was it all him? Attacking her to the point her memory's were warped?

After tests were done and blood drawn she was allowed to leave. The tests results would come in a week or so. Until then they recommend she stay home with someone with her at all times in case another major lapse of memory happened. Suggesting that maybe she had a silent stroke that had the possibility of getting better or worse in the coming days. She left the room back to meet with Jess.

Robert asking “are you alright?” going coldly ignored by her. Not even daring to look at him as she stared straight at Jess. “can I talk to you in private?” she asked Jess.

The girl nodded. “um, sure.” Glancing concerned at Robert off to the side before going with Beverly to the bathroom. “whats wrong? What did the doctors say.”

“we did some tests, but I am fine. Have I been acting strange at all?”

“no … are you sure they said you're okay? Didn't they do a blood test?”

Beverly brushing the tests aside. “they come later. What about after I met Robert? Was I acting weird during that party?”

“Robert? What, no?” Jess turning even more concerned at the mentioning of greys first name.

“who is he? Why do I live with him?! What happened during that party?!”

“who is he?! You two have been dating for years now. That's why you live together! What do you mean what happened at the party?! Are you okay?” Jess questioned.

“no I am not! And it has something to do with him! There's something wrong and I know hes the cause of it! I don't remember anything after that party after he stalked me like a weirdo!”

“Beverly I think you're really sick. I can take you to the main hospital. This is just a small doctors office and they really cant do things here if your seriously sick.”

“no, I am fine! I know I am fine except for him! He did something! He drugged me or something! I cant remember anything except that hes not safe! I need to get away from him and get a damn drug test!”

“listen to yourself! You think greys been drugging you for 5 years?! Hes never hurt you and we always go on our long camping trips. Don't you think at some point the drugs would have warn off during our two weeks camping? We need to take you to the hospital, right now. Wait here for a second while I talk with the doctors.” Jess gesturing for Beverly to stay as she left the bathroom.

Beverly anxiously peeked from cracking open the bathroom door. Seeing Jess talking with Robert rather then a doctor. Spiking her fear she looked for an escape. Seeing sunlight through the bathroom window she took it as her only way to escape. Rushing and squirming herself through the painfully small window. Landing harshly on the gravel pavement below that needed her to dust herself off. Hearing Jess calling her name from inside she refused to reply. Running off down the town streets to get far away. Not entirely sure where to go at this point aside from the hospital for a drug test.

Changing her course to go around the long way in the hopes of avoiding attention. She was walking through the forest away from roads to avoid people. No one could find her at this point, and yet, someone did.

she heard his voice behind her. “Beverly.” Fearing for her safety she faced him. Shocked he somehow found her and caught up so quickly without a sound made by his footsteps.

“get away from me!” she snapped aggressively.

“Jess told me what you said. I wont hurt you, Jess can take you to the hospital and leave you there if you'd like. Its not safe for you to wonder the woods. Please come back with me to the doctors office.” keeping his voice soft and body relaxed. He gave her lots of space between them to not scare her off.

“i am not going anywhere with you Robert!”

“Robert?” his attitude taking a sudden shift. Changing to something more serious and cold. “you haven't called me that in years. Whats wrong?”

“whats wrong?! You did something to me! Robert, Robert grey, who ever you are! I think you drugged me! Did something to me that night of the party! I don't want you getting anywhere near me! Fuck off!” shouting at him.

His body stiffened. “i didn't drug you. ...You're sick and having memory issues. Lets get you to the hospital and everything will be put back to normal.”

“NO!” she bolted into a run away from him. Not getting far before her hand was yanked back. Whipping around to face the man who somehow grabbed her unnaturally fast. Ready to punch his lights out when her mind clouded to the darkness for a 2nd time. Staring deeply into the blue eyes now changed into a glowing fiery yellow.

It was as if everything paused after that point. Forgotten until the next time her mind was release from what blocked it. Awaking to find herself at a table, in a diner, surrounded by friends. Half a eaten burger in her hands as her friends laughed and talked around her. Her confusion spiked, however kept herself looking calm on the outside. Slowly taking in what was going in to figure things out. Looking down she saw a cellphone near her plate. It had to be hers with how close it was settled by. Taking it up to check it with a small flip of its cover. Spotting the time and date.

3/25/ 2002. almost a month had passed. What happened since then? How could she question what was going on without being suspicious?

Jess noticed her checking her phone. “did work call you again?”

“oh, no. was checking messages to see if I was acting weird around that health scare last month.”

hearing Lisa speak up about it. “ you were completely normal aside from that freak out. Shows how scary a damn vitamin deficiency can be for you.”

Jess replying with a drink of her tea. “yeah, who knew a B12 deficiency can have you go wacko. I got so paranoid after that, now I am taking 12 different vitamins. Some I didn't even know existed!”

getting a laugh out of the table aside from Beverly who awkwardly chuckled. “you're telling me.” she bit back into the burger. Thinking of the supposed reason. “a vitamin deficiency?! They're passing my 5 year memory loss on that?!” getting more suspicious about her friends and the doctors. cutting her thoughts off before she could vomit out her meal.

Beverly excused herself from the table. “uh, gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back.” taking her phone with her into the bathroom. She had to figure out more about her supposed life. Checking the phones photos for anything. Going through them she saw all sorts of photos involving her and Robert.

On dates together at a table, drinking glasses of wine at office party's, they always looked so happy together. None of those moments she had any memory of. There were also many happy photos of her on camping trips, those she did remember. Jess did bring up a good point of drugs wearing off during their camping trips. Anything that didn't involve looking at Robert was clear to look back on, but after a few weeks camping wouldn't she have caught on. Why was this suddenly hitting her after so long?

“i guess after a while I could have become immune to whatever.” She sighed and rubbed her head. “maybe I should go to the doctors.” putting her phone away. She left the bathroom to dismally approached her friends.

Noticing her sudden change in mood.“you okay?” Jess asked.

Beverly shook her head. “it happened again. I cant remember the past month.”

the girls at the table were immediately alarmed. Getting up to console her, pack up the food, and take her to the doctors. On the way there she over heard one of the girls calling Robert about what was going on. Beverly was nervous about this and the guaranteed check on her he would do. She was suppose to be dating him, but her only memory of him was creepy stalking around a party 5 years ago. Maybe having a talk with him would ease her worry. Doing her best to relax until then.

At the hospital she answered all the questions she could. Waiting alone with her fearful thoughts of what could be wrong with her. was this her life now? Forgetting more and more of her life? Her eyes teared up at the thought of her depressing future. Questioning at only 28 years old if she should get her will together and end of life care. Hopefully Robert was a loyal man and would stick by her side during all of this. However those violent visions arose to the front of her memory. The yelling, shouting, beatings and things thrown her way. A nurse coming into her room broke the dark chain of memory's.

Asking Beverly a question. “a man named Robert grey is here. Is it okay if he visits you?” the women asked gently. After receiving a head nod the nurse nodded back with a smile before leaving to tell the man.

Beverly took in a deep breath in readying to speak with him. To apologize for her aggressiveness before. To speak of what to do from here on if her mental illness worsened. A voice in the back of her head returning to the front.

Speaking to her in warning. “he'll do it again. Don't look at his eyes.” disappearing soon after. Something noticeable to her was that the voice wasn't her own. It was as if someone else was speaking to her.

Seeing the man out of the corner of her eye she looked to him. Opening her mouth, but ended up with nothing coming out. Freezing at the site of him by this overwhelming sense of danger being near. A deep seated glare of hatred naturally crossing her face the longer she looked at him.

he asked in a calm tone. “darling? Are you alright?” Not showing a sense of aggression toward her, but Beverly felt otherwise. Getting no response he stepped forward and reached a hand out toward her. Scaring her away from her seat.

“get away from me!” she aggressively snapped.

His expression turned sour to how she was reacting. “what is wrong with you?! Why are you acting like this?!” he questioned.

“there's something wrong with you!”

“what is?”

“i don't know! Something is telling me that you aren't to be trusted!”

his expression souring further into that chilling look. She barely managed to hear what he mumbled to himself. “hes ruining it.”

“what?!” she questioned what that meant. Seeing his eyes flash a bright yellow before the darkness swarmed in again.

The time slipping away from her to eventually drop her down. Coming to in new surroundings that she recognized as her bed. It was night and she was alone … for a moment. She could hear someone in the bedroom bathroom. The door shut leaving only the bed side lamp on to provide minimal lighting. She sat up and pulled the alarm clock close to check the date.

“still today, just a few hours lost.” getting up out of bed. She needed to run despite only being in light pajamas. She couldn't afford to pack while he was here and possibly readying to join her in bed. The thought making her violently ill as she rushed out of the room. Grabbing the car keys off a line up of hooks by the door. Rushing out into the pouring cold rain of the dark night. Looking around the barely highlighted surroundings from what little light pooled out of the houses windows. Shakily reaching out to yank the barely see able car door handle.

Sitting into the seat to shove the key into the slot. Turning it in the expectation the car would start to life, but their was nothing. Not a sound nor one little light coming to life inside the car. Turning and twisting the key desperately made no difference.

“fucking car!” she cursed. About ready to make a run for it down the road.

Alarmed when the car door was opened by grey. She made sure to have the front door in her sight at all times to make sure he wasn't coming out after her. Having appeared from no where he must have snuck around. No time to figure out how he snuck up she turned in grabbing the car door to swing it open. The click of the door locking itself had her heart pounding in her chest. Her shaky tries of unlocking the door being futile. She was trapped inside the car with him. Fearing to look back at him she froze her gaze on the glass reflection disturbed by rain drops. Using it as a way to watch without making direct eye contact.

Sitting still in preparation to fight back if he tried doing anything. Jumping when he shut his door to settle in the passenger seat. His golden eyes glowing in the reflection of the glass window.

“if he tries to touch me hes going to the hospital.” thinking to herself.

Startled by his voice. “Beverly.”

she cursed to herself for stupidly jolting from him saying her name. “... yes?” her meaning to answer calmly, but failing at that too.

“look at me.” he ordered.

“... why.”

“why wont you look at me?”

her nerves growing the longer this back and forth was going. Swallowing heavily when her stomach threatened to rise up.

“ We are usually so happy together. I gave you so much and you're still not happy. Why? why do you keep fighting? Id be easier if you stopped.” his tone taking a downward shift. “i wont let him take you from me.” his words chilling her blood.

What did he mean by all of that? Feeling him grab her shoulder she thrashed her fists around to beat him away. Pulled into facing him by him managing to grab a hold of her hand. Her turning to face him was a mistake she deeply regretted.

Those yellow eyes boring into her. This sense of recognition of them smothered by her memory's being repressed. His last words echoing through her fading mind. “everything will be fine. You're going to juniper hills asylum for some help.”

#it 2017 #pennywise #beverly marsh #pennywise x beverly marsh

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puckyou-forpuckssake · 5 years

Text

Dadcapades (2)—N. MacKinnon

Warning: mentions of pregnancy complications. Check out my other imagines and master list on my blog with #hockeyimagine. Read other parts to this series, questions, and statements under #dadcapades.

Y/N was excited for an evening without the children and Nate was excited to have an evening with his wife. It had been about a month since Gabe had offered, and frankly to Nate, that was too long not take him up on his offer. However, it took another day for Celeste to get over her fever. Then Y/N’s morning sickness became all day sickness. Sidney started a skills and drills hockey camp. Y/N enrolled Gabi in ballet and Celeste in a Mommy & Me class. Mikko still had his routine dog park visit followed by obedience training and had to go to the dog spa. Nate knew that this was his only true time to have a real date with his wife as preseason games started in a couple weeks and Sidney was starting Kindergarten tomorrow.

“This is going to be so nice,” Y/N sighed with a smile.

Nate smiled as he watch his wife do her hair and makeup. They planned to take full advantage of this night, and that meant going out to a fancy restaurant in Denver. Tonight’s choice was Rioja, a favorite for date night. “Definitely,” Nate agreed. “A night alone with my sexy MILF.” Nate kissed her neck.

Nate watched her roll her eyes in the mirror. “No wonder we have so many children if you’re thinking that way. Perhaps a vasectomy may be in order.”

Nate gagged. “Way to ruin the mood, sweetheart.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “How do I look, Nate? Honestly.”

Nate stepped to take a full look at his wife. Her H/C was down in its normal style and had on simplistic, natural makeup. She wore a casual tan dress with a black shawl and leopard print shoes. Simple and perfect. Nate grinned. “You look marvelous. Are you sure you’ve already had 3 children and are about to have a fourth?”

“Keep your pants on my dear,” she told him as she walked out of their room at the sound of Gabi and Sidney squealing that the Landeskogs had finally arrived.

Y/N hugged Mel and Gabe. “You have no idea how much we appreciate this,” she told him. “Bedtime is 8:00, especially since Sidney starts kindergarten tomorrow. All of them need to take a bath. Sidney and Gabi can take theirs together. Celly has her own little tub in our bathroom. There’s a variety of food in the kitchen for dinner. Nate, am I forgetting anything?”

“I don’t think so,” Nate answered. “Mel and Gabe got this. They’re going to do fine.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Gabe isn’t alone so nothing horrible can happen,” Mel reassured her.

Gabe snorted. “Wow. I love you too.”

Y/N sighed. “I know. I just worry. It’s instinct now. I have six kids to worry about.”

“Six?” Nate, Gabe, and Mel all questioned.

Y/N nodded. “My three actual children, the one inside me, my dog who acts like a giant baby, and my giant child of a husband.”

Mel giggled. “Well in that case I already have a kid.” She kissed Gabe on the cheek. “Now go have fun and enjoy the night.”

“But not too much,” Gabe winked at Nate.

“That’s disgusting, man. My kids are right here.”

—————————

Throughout their dinner Nate just stared at his wife’s beauty. She wasn’t a model. She wasn’t an actress. She wasn’t a blogger or an Instamom or an influencer. She was an average beauty. She was an elementary school 3rd grade teacher. She gave up her job for their children (That wasn’t true. She quit teaching at her normal school when Sidney was born and started teaching online for homeschool kids so she could be with their children when Nate was gone and to enjoy their youth).

“What are you staring at?” Y/N asked him. “I don’t think you’ve heard a single word I’ve been saying.”

“That’s because you’re so pretty.”

“You saying that I don’t normally look good?”

Nate chuckled. “Sweetheart, you know I never pay attention. My hearing is selective. It is in the husband and father handbook.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at him. “I was talking about the schedule we need to have now that Sidney is,” she winced. “About to start kindergarten.”

Nate’s eyebrows furrowed. “Not much needs to change. Are you okay?”

She nodded, but he could see the tension in her smile. “Y/N.”

“I’m fine, Nathan,” she snapped. He watched her hand go to her side. “My stomach just hurts a little. I’m probably just hungry.”

Nate nodded. He didn’t want to anger or stress her out. “Gabe and Mel are thinking of adopting.”

Y/N nodded and took a sip of her water. “Mel told me. She said you offered for them to watch our kids as a way to get experience without us around. She didn’t say it but I know she appreciates it. They’ve been trying for so long.”

“I hope our children aren’t driving them insane,” Nate said. “I mean I’m sure they are.”

“You love your children.”

“I know that. You know that. I never said I didn’t love them. They, and you, mean the absolute world to me. I don’t know what I would do without you. What they would do without you.”

Y/N blushed. Neither of them said anything further as the waiter brought them their dinner. It was quiet while they enjoyed their food. Nate and Y/N couldn’t enjoy food like this much anymore because it is not easy to feed picky children. Nate noticed throughout dinner the small winces Y/N let escape and her left hand clutching her side.

“Y/N,” he said at one point.

“I’m fine, Nathan,” she snapped like she had earlier.

“I was just going to ask how your food was.” He wasn't, but it was believable enough.

“It’s fine.”

Nate signaled for the check when Y/N got up to go to the bathroom. He was getting worried after she didn’t appear for a few minutes. It wasn’t until he heard a shriek that he found himself holding his unconscious wife. She was washing her hands and just collapsed according to a lady who was at the sink next to her.

The ambulance was there a minute later. “That’s my wife. She’s pregnant,” he kept mumbling as the paramedics ushered both him and her onto it.

“What’s your wife’s name, sir?” One of the paramedics asked him.

“Y/N. Y/N MacKinnon.”

“Your wife will be fine, Mr. MacKinnon. She’ll be in good hands,” the other paramedic said to him.

Nate nodded but just gripped Y/N’s hand tightly. This was the mother of his children, his wife, his best friend laying before him unconscious with the oxygen mask on. The mother of his children. His children. He needed to call Gabe.

“I need to call—“

“We’re almost at the emergency room. Once we get your wife in and everything stabilized, you can make your call.”

He nodded. The ambulance halted and the back doors open. “We’ve got a 29 year old 10 week pregnant female. Collapsed and loss consciousness in restaurant unknown cause.”

“She’s been gripping her side all night long but she told me she was fine,” Nate added. “She’s had trouble in the past with pregnancy. This is her fourth.”

“Damn man,” the driver whistled. “That’s a lot of kids. How old is your oldest?”

“He turned 5 in March. Our second one is 3, and the we have a 9 month old.”

“It’ll be okay, sir. Your wife is going to be okay.”

Nate sure hoped so. He couldn’t imagine life without her.

——————

“I expected you and Y/N to be back by now,” Gabe said when he answered the phone.

“Y/N is in the hospital,” Nate told him.

The line was quiet. “Are you serious? I mean I know you have to be because you would never joke about Y/N. What happened?”

“I don’t know. She’d been in the bathroom and she collapsed. She’d also been gripping her side most of the night too. The doctor said it’s some weird form of very early preeclampsia. She had that problem with Celly and had placenta previa with Gabi. She also had gestational diabetes with all 3 and she has it again.”

“God, Nate. Is there anything Mel and I can do for you?”

“Just stay with the kids a little longer. I’m heading home once she’s up. I can’t make it to practice tomorrow. Can Mel watch Gabi and Celly tomorrow?”

He heard Gabe whisper to Mel. “She said she can. She’s just going to run home and get something’s for us. We’re staying the night.”

“You don’t have to do that, Gabe,” Nate sighed. “I can do this.”

“I know you can but it’ll be easier. Just for tonight. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit, Gabe.”

Nate hung up and saw his wife staring at him. “You’re awake,” he smiled.

“Nate, I’m sorry. I should have told you I wasn’t feeling well.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. You and the baby are okay. Dr. Bellmeyer said you have anemia, high blood pressure, and gestational diabetes. She fears it may be a weird early onset preeclampsia. She’s running tests to rule it out. She already ruled out placenta previa. She also strongly recommends no more children.”

“This could mean the baby can’t be born in Canada like the others.”

Nate shrugged. “Whatever happens happens.”

Someone knocked at the door and in walked Dr. Bellmeyer. “It’s so good to see you awake, Y/N. How are feeling?”

“Not too well considering I’m in a hospital,” she answered.

“Good news is that preeclampsia is not in the picture; however, there is still a great risk for its development later on. I want to keep you admitted though and monitor you for the next month. I know it sounds excessive but you’ve had too many troubles in the past. Nobody wants anything to happen to you or your baby.”

Y/N nodded and turned to Nate. “Go home and come back tomorrow after you take Sidney to school. I want lots of pictures and videos. Tell them I love them. Just please go take care of our children. You’re going to be doing that for the next six or seven months.”

“What do you mean, Y/N?”

“She’s saying, and in very good knowledge, that there is no way she can take care of your children successfully due to her condition. She is going to be on extensive bed rest,” Dr. Bellmeyer explained. “This is the best interest of her and your child’s health and well-being.”

Fear rolled over Nate. The season starts in a month, preseason in a week. “You can do it, Nate,” Y/N smiled. “You love and care for our children, as do many others who will be willing to help you. I will always be here to advise you. I love you, Nate. I love you so so much.”

Nate smiled and kissed his wife. “I love you too. I’ll be back tomorrow. Get some rest.”

————

Mel and Gabe were still up when Nate walked into his home. He flopped into a chair next to them and groaned. “She and the baby are going to be fine,” he told them. “The crappy part is she is going to be hospitalized for the next month and then on bed rest after that.”

“We’re here for you, Nate,” Mel told him. “I’m here whenever to watch them once the season starts or to help Y/N.”

“The guys will be there for you too,” Gabe added. “I know they will be.”

Nate let a tear slip out. “I know I’m a good dad, but I never realized until right now how much I am going to have to handle.”

“You can to do this, Nate,” Gabe reassures him. “There’s a lot of people here to help you through all the escapades.”

Nate nodded and thanked his friends before excusing himself to go to bed. He needed the sleep because Nate wasn’t sure when he was going to get it again.

#nathan mackinnon #nate mackinnon #nathan mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl #hockey #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #dadcapades

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minnuet-archive · 5 years

Text

I’m Sorry, Logan

(I'm not talking about Logan Sanders, but I do have a character named Logan that’s based loosely off of him. TW: Suicide)

I wake up to my alarm blaring in my ears. My eyelids refuse to lift and the world is a blurry mess. I stumbled into my uniform, the alarm still blaring. Eventually my patience ran out and I shut off the alarm. My backpack is lying in the corner and I shove it on. I grab a granola bar from the pantry and run to the school bus that’s already parked outside.

I jump into the bus. I walk down the aisle and all of the noise, ranging from random conversation to yelling and fighting, fill my ears and overwhelm my mind. I almost want to plug my ears, but someone’s bound to take offense. As I sit down in a seat next to the seemingly quietest kids, the horrible stench of 7 year old raisins with a generous side of sweaty gym socks permeates my nose. I hate the bus. I decide to try to space out.

When I arrive at the school, I went into the girl’s bathroom and wait until everyone had left the bathroom. I look really weird waiting for people to leave, and I kind of care. I kind of don’t though. Once everyone had gone, I slipped out of my catholic school uniform skirt and into pants.

My mother had refused to get me anything but the “girl’s” uniform which consisted of a tight, long skirt and a blouse. I hear the bell and run to class. I burst into the classroom and slide into my seat directly after my name is called.

“Late.” I groan and get out my homework. Why must it be me?

Vanessa and her friends snicker across the classroom. “Hey look, the plant’s here.”

My ears burned and I clenched my teeth. Those assholes. I’m not a plant. “My name’s El-” My eyes widen as I catch myself. “-Ellie.”

Vanessa gasps overdramatically and then says, “It can talk?!”

I don’t respond and give her what she wants, but it takes all of my strength not to. God, how am I so stupid? I don’t care if I’m using the Lord’s name in vain. I already let them know I was asexual! And if I let it slip? My name’s Elliott. I could just imagine the crap they’d do and say to me. What would I tell them? Oh yeah, by the way, I’m pangender. That would totally work.

I take deep breaths. I look at the teacher and zoning out is easy for me. The lunch bell rings after a while and I walk towards the courtyard, finding one of the trees in the corner that no one ever sat by. It’s kind of sad and droopy, just like me.

“Hey Elliott!” I flinch at the noise. He smiles and sits down next to me.

I relax and say, “Hey Logan. How was the class?”

“How was class? Class was bull crap,” I crack a smile and when I do, he adds “as always. I love how you did your hair today. It’s pretty.”

As I eat my brought-from-home lunch, I look at him and blush. He’s way too cute. I now turn even redder and look away as I shove my sandwich farther into my mouth. Too far. The lunch bell rings after a few minutes. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow Logan. Bye!”

He high fives me and starts walking towards his classroom. I walk towards mine. After Mr. Simon takes role call and I answer one question, I figure I’m safe and promptly space out for the rest of the day.

The bell rings and right as I’m about to walk out of the door, I heard Mr. Simon say, “Eleanor, may I speak to you?” A collective ‘oooh, you’re in trouble’ type sound comes from what’s remaining of the class as I walk up to his desk.

“Can I help you Mr. Simon?”

“Do you remember the dress code guidelines we went over at the beginning of the year?”

I start to panic. “Uh, yeah.”

“Then you remember that girls are to wear skirts and a blouse and that boys are to wear a button down and pants.”

I mutter that I might remember something like that. “Why can’t I wear pants? I’m not wearing anything completely out of school uniform.”

“Yes, but we have a strict dress code and you, as a girl,” I flinch at the word girl. Of course, I can’t correct him. “are to wear a skirt. If you come to school tomorrow wearing pants, I’ll have you change back into a skirt, confiscate the pants, and then call your parents.”

I nodded my head as if I understand, which I don’t, and then walk out of the classroom. I know he hates me, but I had no clue he would go to these lengths to get me in trouble. I really don’t want to wear a skirt and that was only the first time I wore pants. On the other hand, I don’t want them to get taken away because I had to save up for months to get them and I don’t want to have to deal with my parents.

As I walk home, I approach the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge and smile. It’s so beautiful. Late afternoon fog is quite unusual this time of year and most people don’t like it, but I’m secretly happy about it. Walking the bridge is a really nice way to clear your mind in the morning. The breeze makes my clothes flow in the wind. The smell of salt water in the air fills my nose as I approach one end of the bridge.

I start to cross the bridge and into the fog. It’s peaceful and the moist air feels cool and nice against my skin.

After around 45 minutes, I come out on the other side of the bridge. I continue to walk towards my house.

I can’t wait to lay down on the couch and not worry about homework. Not because I finished it, but because I’m a procrastinator.

I turn down my street and see my house. As I approach it, I realize that my house has been egged. I see a note on the door and run up and grab it. Leave our school, you faggot. You don’t belong here.

Vanessa, her boyfriend, and their asshole friends were right about the last part. I don’t belong here. I wish I could leave, but it isn’t exactly possible. I rip up the note and look up at the eggs that are covering my home.

Ugh, I don’t want to clean this up… but my parents will ask why it happened if I don’t. Plus, they’ll make me do it anyway. I sigh as I slowly walk inside to grab a mop and some other cleaning supplies.

I open the closet door and grab everything I think I might need. I’ve never cleaned up eggs, so I’m just guessing.

I walk back outside and start to wipe the door with a random rag that I found. Once I finish cleaning everything that I can reach from the ground, I place all my supplies on the roof overhang. I awkwardly climb onto the overhang. P

I got on my knees shakily and started to clean the roof. Damn, could these kids throw. It takes what seems like years, but was really a couple hours to finish cleaning the house.

I take a risk and jump from the overhang. I didn’t break any bones! Yay! I grab all the cleaning supplies and shove them in a closet as I walk to my room. I get changed into some paint stained jeans and a band t-shirt that my parents begrudgingly bought me for Christmas.

I walk back out and throw myself on the couch. I log into an app that’s similar to tumblr except not as widely known. It has less asshole-ish people. I open a chat with one of my best friends, AchillesWasTheOriginalGay™ also known as Bentley or Ben. Sometimes I call him Benjamin because he hates when people assume his name.

Me: What’s up, Benjamin?

He responds almost immediately.

Ben: You’re an ass. But not much. You?

Me: House got egged. Assholes at school.

Ben: Oof that sucks, dude.

Ben: Hey I gtg do homework. Talk later?

Me: Sure.

I turn off my phone and put it down. I hear my mom pull up so I sit up and take out my school binder. I place my homework from yesterday in front of me so I look like I’ve been doing homework since the second I got home.

Directly after I finished setting up my fake homework station, she walked in. “Hey, mom!” No, too cheery. Calm down.

She smiles happily, “Hi, Ellie!” I cringe at my old name, but she didn’t seem to notice my overly excited greeting. “How was your day?” My little sister, Adia follows her in and then runs to our room.

I consider telling her that it wasn’t great for a second but decide against it, because she’d just ask questions. “It was good. Yours?”

“It was fine. Busy as always.” I give her a knowing nod and then I see her smile slowly fade. I tilt my head in confusion. “What did I tell you about those jeans? You can only wear them when you’re painting. They’re disgusting and baggy. Wear some nice tights next time.”

I roll my eyes and she scoffs as she walks into the kitchen. She puts her bags down. Adia runs back out of our room with a stuffed animal in her hands and she sits down next to me.

“Hi Adia. Did you have fun at school today?”

”Yeah!! I played with Sammy.”

“That’s fun.” She smiles proudly as if having a friend was something to be proud of, which in my case, is true, but in her case, not so much. She has lots of friends.

I’m contemplating this when I hear my mom start to reheat leftovers from last night. She slaps all of the food on three plates and we trudge over to the table and sit down.

My mom turns on the T.V. and we watch a sitcom as we shovel food into our faces. Eventually, the episode ends. We're too lazy to change the channel, so we leave it.

My mom is seated facing the screen and I watch her chuckle. I turn to the T.V. and freeze. It's a pride parade. All of a sudden I hear Adia’s excited voice.

“Ooooh! Rainbows!” I look at her and smile a little bit. She doesn’t even know. Sometimes I wish I don’t know about LGBTQ+.

“Those rainbows are for gay people.” My mom says gay as if it’s the worst thing you can be.

Mom continues, “You don’t want to be gay. Being gay is bad. You’ll go to hell if you’re gay.”

Now she just looked confused. “Why is it bad?”

“Because a man is supposed to be with a woman. That’s how God created us.” Mom says.

I finish eating my food as fast as I can to escape this horrible conversation and then interrupt. “Can I be excused? I’m getting tired.”

Before my mom can respond, my father swings open the front door.

This time, it’s not just me who’s frozen. He’s holding a beer bottle. His tie is loose. The top button of his shirt is unbuttoned and it’s stained.

What makes it most obvious that it’s happened again is his eyes. They’re huge. And not in the caring way.

He smiles goofily and stares at Adia and I. “No hug? No ‘Hi daddy!’ or ‘Thanks for working your ASS off every day to provide for us’ ?”

My first instinct is to pull Adia closer to me and step one foot in front of her. My second instinct is to throw something at him so we can all run.

I hold back. Mom’s too close to dad. She would never be able to run away in time. He could hit her. Even break a bottle over her head and kill her. She’s not a good person, but she doesn’t deserve that.

“Go. To your rooms. Now.” I turn to my mom in utter surprise.

“But mom-“

“GO. NOW.”

I grab Adia and make sure she’s safe and locked in her room before running to mine. I press my ear against the door because I might be able to get an idea of what’s happening. I can’t hear anything.

I slump down and hang my head in my hands. Holy christ, what is wrong with my family?? Why doesn’t she just kick him out when he’s hungover? Why don’t WE leave?

I can't deal with this.

I'm sobbing now. I clench my teeth to trap the noise in my mouth.

Over the course of a few minutes, I draw myself up onto my knees and then stand up, walking over to sit down at my desk and start to scribble words that seem right on a paper. After a minute of writing, I reread it. It's not good enough. I crumple up the piece of paper and throw it in the trash.

I hug my knees tightly, trying not to make any form of sound. My breathing slows back to normal the longer to sit there and I grab another piece of paper. I start to write once again, this time neater.

I wake up the same way as yesterday. I put on my pants and blouse. I don’t care if Mr. Simon tries to force me to wear a skirt. I’m not taking any bullcrap on my last day of school. And life.

I walk onto the bus and don’t even pay any attention to the kids that are already on it. I hear a kid yell “Get off, dyke!” and I resist flipping him off… well, I try to resist flipping him off.

I take my time walking into the classroom and I sit next to Logan. A kid comes up to me.

“You’re sitting in my seat.”

“Yeah. I know. My seat’s over there. Feel free to take it.” He looks as if he’s about to say something more, but he turns to walk towards my actual seat.

Logan looks at me. I wonder if he knows something off. That taking some other kid’s seat isn’t something I’d normally do.

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. “Hey. How was your day?” He laughs and then adds, “Holy crap that was such a mom question.”

I snort and answer, “Oh my god, you’re right. But it was good. I’m tired as heck though.”

“No kidding.” I grin at him as Mr. Simon looks at us again. I don’t really pay attention in math. I just talk to Logan. It’s relaxing to not have to care. To not have to worry about the consequences to my actions.

When we walk to lunch, I start complaining to Logan about how much of the day we have left.

“Uhh, you know that we have an early day, right?”

“Oh! I do now.” He chuckles and smiles. I feel my cheeks get a little bit warm. He starts to talk about some fandom of his and I try my hardest to pay attention.

I don’t really know what triggers this, although I have an idea, but I realize something. I’ve never kissed someone. Ok, this needs to change. Dying a virgin is one thing, but never having kissed someone? That’s a whole other level of sad. I feel weird thinking this, but I know exactly who I want to be my first and last kiss.

He’s about to start another thought, but I interrupt him. I don’t care. “You’re amazing.”

He looks at me as if I said the strangest thing that could possible said. “I mean it. You’re always there for me and you talk to me about things we like. I feel I don’t thank you enough for that.”

He still looks weirded out but smiles warmly. “Right back at you,” he responds as he fidgets with his hands and looks down at his shoes. I gesture for him to continue and, without hesitation, he does.

Logan sighs and packs up his lunch as the bell rings.

“Hey, will you walk home with me? I know you normally hang out here for a while but I want to talk to you.” I know this is a risk.

Just like before, he doesn’t say anything, but now I’m sure that we both know something’s wrong. “Yeah, of course.”

We grab our stuff and we start walking. He starts walking faster and gets ahead. This is not acceptable.

I break into a full sprint and he starts to chase me. We’re laughing so hard we can barely breathe. When we reach the bridge, were both out of breath. We bend over and start panting like dogs on a hot day.

I break into a full sprint and he starts to chase me. We're laughing so hard we can barely breathe. When we reach the bridge, were both out of breath. We bend over and start panting like dogs on a hot day.

I stand up straight again and look at him. His face is glowing and his brown eyes are big and happy. He runs his hand through his slicked back (with both gel and sweat) hair and adjusts his glasses. He even tightens his tie. What a dork.

I know this is the moment. I move closer to him and pull his tie towards me with one arm and put the other around him as I kiss him.

The salty air blows through my hair and I feel on top of the world. After a couple of seconds, I step away. He looks confused. He wasn't ok with it. Oh god, what have I done? I'm about to keep running down the bridge when he hugs me.

This time, I'm the unprepared one. After a minute, he lets go and slides his hand into mine. We continue walking across the bridge. There's nothing we need to say and it feels amazing.

We don't have to explain ourselves. We can just walk quietly together. And it's not awkward.

My happiness fades away as I realize this is the first and last time I’ll be able to do this. I couldn’t change my mind if I wanted to. I already taped the note on to his backpack when he hugged me. This has to be the last time. Nothing good can last forever. Nothing can last forever.

We reach the other side. “Goodbye, Logan.”

He laughs. “You say it like this is the last time I’ll ever see you. This is just goodbye for now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I feel my heart shatter a little bit more than it already had but I cover it up with a soft smile. “Yeah. It’s just goodbye for now.” He leans in and kisses my cheek and then whirls around.

He starts to walk towards his house. I turn towards the water.

Tears spill silently down my face. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle my sobs. I want to run to Logan and scream his name, but I can’t. This has to be done alone.

I lift one foot onto the railing and then the other. This is it.

One last tear slips down my face as I whisper raspily, “I’m sorry, Logan.” I know it will be peaceful. A quiet ending. Not that I deserve one, but I guess it’s a favor to myself. I let go of the pole that I had been holding onto.

And then I’m falling.

Falling.

Gone.

#love #suicide awareness #tw suicude #suicide #loveislove #asexual #ace #pangender #genderqueer #nonbinary #queerandimmortal

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kaoruyogi · 6 years

Text

C’est Si Bon

I saw this post yesterday about a 1950′s AU Cullen, and this morning I woke up with the full story in my head. So here it is! It’s a little long, so I put part of it under a cut for the sake of people’s dashes.

For @lyrium-blossom , @kagetsukai , @mssaboteur , @ladydragon1316 , @veritasrose, @laraslandlockedblues , and anyone else who’s interested!

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x Belle Dolan (1950′s AU one shot)

Rating: T for Teen

Today would be the day. Cullen decided it as he rose from his old bed in his old room in his parents’ old house. Today would be the day he ventured out. He had been outside since coming back, but he also had not. He had yet to journey beyond the corner three houses down.

Fear kept him at home those six months. It was not a rational fear, he decided about two months into his self-imposed confinement. But it was fear, nonetheless.

He ran his fingers through his hair and puffed out a humorless laugh at himself. He was what they called a “POW.” Pee-Oh-Doubleyou. Prisoner of war. Captured and kept alive. Alive as his enemy saw fit to keep him. As it happened, they chose not to keep him very alive. They locked him away, fed him food they told him over and over was poisoned until he was so starved he ate it anyway because even death would be better than the void in his gut, tortured him, tortured his platoon, killed them one by one.

His puff of a dead laugh was not aimed at all that, but at the irony of his present condition. All he could think of when he was over there was his freedom. Now he had it, and all he was doing with it was locking himself up afresh. Self-inflicted isolation.

So, today would be the day. Cullen dressed simply, comfortably. White cotton tee shirt, tired blue jeans, black and white sneakers—the left one had a smudge on it he reminded himself to clean later—and his black leather jacket. The jacket would not have been his first choice for outerwear before he went over there, but now it helped. His brother gave it to him when he got back. Said it was for luck. Cullen hadn’t the faintest idea how a jacket could be lucky, but then he still kept at least one of his dog tags on his person at all times. So he took the jacket, and today he wore it.

He left his room. The first step. His mabari, Charles, followed him through the house. Cullen was the only person in that house who called the dog by his proper name. All his siblings insisted on calling him Charlie. Cullen found it quite irksome. He petted Charles on the head twice.

Cullen gave himself a onceover in the bathroom mirror before he left the house. His mother always told him he was such a handsome boy, and he might once have been. But a scar—a remnant of the dozens or hundreds or thousands of beatings he suffered—now marred his face. It rose from his upper lip to his cheekbone, pink and shiny and horrible. He did not like the man staring back at him. He put a hand over the glass before he walked away.

He brought Charles with him when he left. The poor mabari had not been on a proper walk in ages, and it was as good an excuse as any to have him at Cullen’s side. The large gray dog rarely left Cullen’s side, as it happened. It gave him great comfort to have Charles with him as he walked, like taking a piece of home with him into a vast and terrifying wilderness of concrete and brick and people.

Cullen walked past the corner. He walked down the street. He nodded his greeting to an elderly neighbor as she watered her begonias. He approached Main Street. He gripped Charles’s leash tight in his fist, doing his best to ignore the onslaught of noise around him. Screaming children. Metal roller skate wheels grinding on cement. The rumble of the occasional passing Cadillac.

To his surprise, he arrived on Main Street without incident. He watched Charles watch their surroundings, and it put him a touch more at ease knowing someone had his back. Together they passed Adan’s Pharmacy. Then they passed Sims Grocers, Cabot’s Malts N’More, two beauty salons, the cinema, and the library. They made it all the way to town hall without a word or glance from anyone.

Cullen thought he had done quite enough for today. He and Charles turned around to head home the same way they came, feeling rather accomplished they had come so far. Even Charles held his head a little higher.

As they approached the library, the front door opened. A young woman, about his age, exited the building. She wore a dress the color of a robin’s egg covered in tiny white dots, and it swayed wide around her pale calves as she walked. Her slightly curved nose was buried in an open book, and her red hair was gathered into a ponytail, forming a single fat curl that brushed her collar. He could not see her entire face, but he would know her anywhere.

Belle. She was the girl he grew up admiring. As children, they went to the nearby lake with their classmates to swim in the summers. He used to watch her red hair in the sun as it dried into wild but gentle curls and listen to her boisterous laugh. In high school, he walked her home on Thursdays. It was out of his way by several blocks, but he never said a word about that. He listened to her talk about all the magnificent things she wanted to do with her life, and he did his best to bring out her boisterous laugh for himself. She smiled at him once while she sang her solo in the school choir. She embraced him once after his parents died. She kissed him once in the dark after their last high school dance. He left the smudge of her too-bright lipstick on his mouth until the next morning.

Cullen’s heart tightened in his chest as she approached him. He had not seen her since before he shipped out to basic training. What if she grimaced when she saw him? What if she disliked the man he had become? What if he was so broken and wrong she did not recognize him at all?

But all those questions proved pointless. Belle’s attention was so rapt on the contents of her book, she walked right past him. He heard her humming while she went. “C’est Si Bon,” by Eartha Kitt. His sister, Mia, played the tune once when her boyfriend, Marcus, came over for dinner. Cullen was not one for anything Orlesian, but he liked the song well enough.

Against his better judgment, Cullen called after her. “Belle,” he said once at too low a volume. When she did not turn, he said it again, much louder.

Belle gasped hard, and her book tumbled from her hands onto the sidewalk. Guilt filled Cullen’s gut at the sight. She whirled around with a blend of shock and ire on her face. It melted away the moment she laid her hazel eyes on him. She smiled. His heart leapt into his throat.

“Cullen,” she said, and she rushed back toward him, leaving her book on the sidewalk. “I’m so happy to see you!”

“I-It’s good to see you too, Belle,” he said. He felt foolish under her gaze. It was a silly notion to call out to her like that. He had no idea what to say to her.

“It’s been a long time. You look well.” She meant it. He did not expect her to mean it.

Before he could reply, she cast her eyes down and let out a happy, “Charles!” Cullen had forgotten she was the only other person that called the mabari by his proper name. Belle knelt down to pet the dog. “It’s been much too long since I’ve seen your handsome face, Charles.” Charles grunted and licked her hand, and she only just managed to stop him licking her face as well.

“You look very well, too,” said Cullen as she stood.

“Thank you.” She paused for three seconds too long, her eyes wandering over his face. They were beautiful eyes. “I missed you, you know,” she finally said. “You never told me when you were shipping out. I would’ve come to see you off. Given you something for good luck or…something.”

“Ah, yes, I—” His free hand reached up to rub the back of his neck. An old habit. “I’m sorry. At the time, I didn’t think it was much to fuss over. I thought I…I thought I would be back sooner.”

Belle smiled again, exposing the wide pointed canines she had ever since her baby teeth fell out. “It’s alright. I probably would have cried all over you anyway. Turned into a damn sobbing mess and not let you get on the bus. So it was probably for the best.” She was the first non-adult he ever heard curse when they were young. She had not changed a bit.

“I missed you, too,” said Cullen before he could stop the words leaving his mouth. Surely, she would think him too forward now. She would leave, and he would never see her again but for the occasional casual coincidence.

But she laughed. She laughed her boisterous laugh, and something fluttered in his chest. “Well, good! I’m glad to know my missing wasn’t one-sided.” She laid an absent pat on Charles’s ribs. He panted happily at the loud thump it made. “Let me buy you a malt or a Coke or something,” she said after a moment. “Cabot still likes me, and he’ll let me take a couple of his glasses to the park or something so we can catch up. If you’re up for it, that is.”

“That won’t be necessary. I can pay fo—”

“Hooey. I’m buying. To make up for the good luck gift I never got to give you. I won’t hear another word about it except ‘yes,’ and ‘thank you, oh wonderful, kind, fabulous Belle.’” She lifted her chin with her superior little grin.

Cullen chuckled. He had not laughed much lately. “Alright,” he said. “Yes. Thank you, oh wonderful, kind, fabulous Belle.”

“Ha!” She clapped once. “Good! Oh.” She turned and ran two short steps to recover her library book, and she dusted it off on her two short steps back. She hooked her arm over his crooked elbow, smiled up at him, and said, “Shall we?”

“Of course,” he said, and the three of them began their walk together.

Today would be the day.

*****

#i couldn't help myself #no one asked me #but here you go #cullen #cullen rutherford #commander cullen #cullen x belle #belle dolan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fanfic #50's au

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unholyhelbiglinked · 6 years

Text

The Attic | Oneshot [1/4]

CHECK OUT THE FULL ONESHOT HERE

The flashlight was weighted against her grasp, a heavy mix of metal and plastic with a slowly flickering bulb that would buzz to anything but the naked ear. It cast an odd circular glow, one that was a golden sliver of daylight in the musty old attic.

Chloe hated the attic; a small space that could mostly be avoided, but in today's heat, it seemed blunt and unwavering- it’s scent like mold and sweat. Maybe she had been up there too long, the slowly climbing temperature doing nothing for her standards, or maybe she was just dehydrated. But her focus didn’t deviate from the flashlight in her grasp.

She let out a shaky sigh, condensation slowly pooling against her chest and curved collarbone. Chloe was a lanky girl- the first to sprout a few inches in her eighth-grade class, but the last to realize that height didn’t really change the fact that she had bright red hair that would always deem her the title of an evil demon. She had grown into her feet and her stature, earning looks from the very people that doubted her in high school.

Now the pediatrician was beyond sure of herself and her abilities as a Ph.D. None of that old stuff seemed to matter- not the yearbooks, the teasing, the horrid fluffy dresses she wore to prom… or at least it didn’t matter until she had crawled her way back into the dusty clutches of this place.

There was supposed to be an estate sale later- one that finally cleared out her mother’s old Victorian house for good. This place was supposed to stay in the family- to garner hope for future generations of Beales. The job offer in New York was calling the young doctors name, however, one the made it near impossible to keep this place in her name.

“Are you admiring the view up there?” Her girlfriend's voice echoed from the small hallway that gave the only access to the upper part of the house. There was nothing much to see, nothing other than some bare wooden walls and a bunch of pink siding that was unusually tempting to the young woman.

A simple smile moved across Chloe’s lips as she flipped the flashlight off, pressing a small rubber button that got rid of one of her only lights sources. It plunged her into a warm darkness. She blinked a few times, shoving the flashlight into the edge of her belt loop as she breathed in the musty air.

“I’m coming down now,” She announced, testing out the top rung of the wooden ladder, listing to the aged surface creak and groan as she hung onto a piece of paneling for dear life- nails splintering wood. She heard Beca shifting against the wooden floor below her, biting the inside of her lip as the smaller girl stared at her. She stepped down a few more rungs before meeting stormy blue eyes at level, her hand still grasping one of the edges. “Who’s admiring the view now?”

Beca threw her head back and groaned, scratching slightly at her dirtied cheek as she stared at the inky black opening that was left above them. “It’s your fault for wearing yoga pants, Chloe. Not mine.”

“God, you’re like a dog in heat.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.” She kicked sheepishly at the floor, the taller girl shook her head slightly as she listened to the springs creak and groan once she lifted the ladder into the very secret hiding place on the latch. She cringed as the rope that hung from the ceiling burned against her palms.

“I would like to call it unfair.” Beca continued, snaking her arms around Chloe’s waist as the girl let out a small yelp- both parties ignoring the balky flashlight that hung lazily against a belt loop. “I have been moving furniture all day.”

“So, you must be tired then,” Chloe pointed out to her, adjusting her arm around the woman’s shoulders. They were aching, her own exhaustion creeping in. “Baby, even if I were comfortable having sex in my childhood home, Aubrey is going to be here any minute with the papers.”

“She can watch.”

“Beca.”

“Fine.”

It wasn’t a normal conversation the two would share- but Beca had been on edge lately. Her own career plowing forward in the Big Apple as well, the small DJ traveling home every other weekend for the past six months in order to get some face to face time with Chloe. It had been scarce and getting on a plane just to clean up an old house wasn’t on her to-do-list, especially if Aubrey Posen was involved.

As if on cue the swift three toned knock on the mahogany door. It echoed against the nearly empty corridors, traveling up the staircase as Chloe didn’t waste any time pulling away from her girlfriend. Her very defeated girlfriend who let out a soft groan and willed her legs to follow Chloe down the carpeted steps.

Even Beca had to admit, the house was beautiful; it was large and whimsical, something that was made out of a children’s book or maybe even a vintage dollhouse. Even the front door had a red and orange stained glass window that outlined the blurred silhouette of Aubrey’s straight-laced persona. She stopped halfway down the staircase, leaning against the banister while Chloe pulled open the creaking hinges to get a good look at the lawyer.

The blonde beamed, her deep olive eyes flicking momentarily towards Beca before focusing on her friend instead. She didn’t mind the dirt covered girl as she wrapped her in a tight hug, Chloe never one to turn down an embrace, closing her eyes as she breathed in the lemon scent Aubrey always seemed to carry.

“uh,” Aubrey pulled away, wrinkling her nose “You stink.”

“You’re telling me.” Beca mumbled scratching her neck as she put on a fake smile “Hi, Aubrey.”

“You try getting a whole house ready for an estate sale and then we’ll talk Posen.” She chided jokingly, turning around to face Beca with an accusatory finger point. “You hush,”

“Hi, Beca.” Aubrey chuckled slightly, closing the door behind her with a soft thud. “Someone is grumpy today.”

“I am grumpy every day.” She drew out her syllables with every passing second, letting out a huff as she flopped down onto the step directly under her- it pressed against the middle of her back but she stifled a wince- instead playing with the hem of her shirt.

Chloe rolled her eyes and turned back to her friend, stare flashing close to the documents that the woman held in her hands. “Are those them?”

“Mm,” She hummed, waving the packet around slightly “The biggest part of this is your on-site. You can keep all of the money you get from this, but anything that’s left behind has to be donated to HFH. But we can always wait a few days and change up the contract-“

“No, that’s fine.” Beca said from her curled up ball on the steps, earning an accusatory look from Chloe, causing the restless girl to backtrack “I mean, it’s charity, right? Habitat for Humanity?”

Aubrey nodded pensively as she ran her fingers over the edge of the paperwork. Beca swears this type of legal work was a turn on for the young lawyer. Well, any type of legal work was a turn on for her. She would get off on the different type of highlighters she needed to use and the scent of freshly changed toner.

“She’s right, Chlo, eager, but right.” She shrugged “This would be your easiest route, it’s how most estate sales go in the first place. What doesn’t sell get’s donated, but with the type of stuff your mother kept around I’m sure you’ll have no trouble clearing it up.”

“It’s fine,” Chloe confirmed with a nod of the head. “I just don’t know how all this stuff works. The cleaning I can do… the legal-“

“Is why you have me,” Aubrey finished her sentence, boasting a smile that could blind the gods. “I just need you to sign a few things and you’ll be all ready to open the doors tomorrow.”

Chloe wrapped her fingers around the fabric of her shirt, white knuckling the bunch of threads as her hand rested on her chest- it was rising and falling with upmost rhythm. She was staring at the ceiling in what used to be her parent's room- the only four post bed that was still in this place. Others were around, but they were covered in white sheets, white sheets that had dust coating every inch of the place.

This place had been her home. For the longest time, it was where she would curl up after a rough nightmare, or a horrible date. She would cuddle into her mother’s side while she stroked her hair and whispered things in her ear to calm her heart rate.

Now it was cold and desolate. Nothing was in the room except for the queen-sized mattress and an old television that only got three stations. It was sitting on the floor now- turned off because there was no point in flicking it on. A floor length mirror was propped on the parallel edge of the bed, Chloe wanting to cover that too.

Chloe didn’t bother crawling under the blankets. It was too hot in the room, the flashlight heavy in her other hand as she balanced the cool metal weight in her grasp. She ran her fingers along the beaded edge, pressing her fingers into the indentations.

“What are you thinking about?” The muffled voice from the bathroom doorway caught Chloe’s attention. Beca was leaning heavily against it, a toothbrush shoved into her cheek as she struggled not to let the frothy mint spill over her lips.

“Who said I was thinking at all?” She pondered, lifting her eyebrows as she settled In the plush bedding and flicked her stare back up the ceiling.

“Well, you only get that look when you’re thinking,” Beca said, her voice echoing as she walked back into the bathroom, spitting the contents that filled her mouth into the sink with a small grunt. “Or when you’re climaxing, which I certainly hope you’re not doing without me.”

“Beca,” Chloe groaned as her small girlfriend walked back into the room. She nearly dodged a pillow being chucked at her head, instead, she clenched onto the fabric. She let out a small grunt as she flopped down onto the bed next to the taller girl.

“I’m sorry, I know.” She grumbled, running her fingers over the sheets. Her stare moved back up the Chloe’s as she propped herself up on her elbows. “You uh, you’ve had this kind of sick look on your face since this morning… I thought it was the heat, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

Chloe let out a thick sigh, not pulling her eyes from the ceiling.

“I’m usually the one to shut myself out, you know?” Beca said, adjusting her position to face the ceiling as well. She let her hand fall close to Chloe’s fingers playing absently with her girlfriends. “I’m used to talking about feelings and-“

“I grew up here.” Was all Chloe said, voice cutting through the room, “It’s not like I didn’t do everything to get out of this place once I had enough money to go off to college I did. And I didn’t look back- not on this house, this town, or my mother… but now that I’m here…”

She trailed off, drawing in a sharp breath. Beca didn’t need her to continue to come to the sudden realization that this was painful for Chloe. She was never good at reading social cues, so she pushed herself into her work and followed every order that Chloe barked out until her arms begged for mercy.

Beca warped her arm around Chloe’s waist, pulling her head onto the girl’s chest. The redhead let out a content sigh as she pulled her girl closer to her side, breathing in the scent of mint and ginger that Beca carried.

“Tell me about her,” Beca said, breath hot on Chloe’s skin.

“Hmm?”

“Your mom, tell me about her.” the smaller girl whispered. “If uh… if you want.”

Chloe didn’t say anything for a few long moments. She drew little patterns on the small of Beca’s back, her heartbeat and breath almost lulled the girl into a light sleep. She didn’t want to push Chloe, not now. When she felt a sharp intake of air, she knew she was ready to talk.

“We never really had much money, so she worked two jobs.” She spoke, voice a low murmur. “Most of the time she was a librarian, it didn’t pay much but she loved it. She loved the smell of the books, and the way people would just share a newfound form of peace whenever they walked through the doors. Other than that, she worked at a grocery store. Never really had a day off.

“She took care of me and Annie though, she did… and she kept this house too. For as long as I can remember she always wanted me to keep this place. It was part of the family history, I guess. My grandparents had it under their name before hers, and their parents before them. It’s always been the Beale’s place.”

“Chlo,” Beca started to protest. She didn’t want to push them into this argument again. Even before Beca flew in she had suggested Chloe keep this place. She was so fast to dismiss her, so fast to say that this was holding her back in Georgia. At the soft look she received, she dropped it, though.

“I don’t feel guilty about selling it,” She said, voice a low grumble “I feel uneasy. But I don’t feel guilty.”

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe beale #Bechloe #Aubrey Posen #bechloe fic rec

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forksofwisdom · 6 years

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Embers of the Sun - chapter 4

Story Summary: Bella Swan, the new student at Forks High, is ready to graduate. She was prepared for a boring year and just wanted to make a couple of friends. Why are there mutant Wolverines running around the woods of La Push? And why do all the handsome men she meets look at her with such unbridled horror? An imprinting AU where Bella moves to Forks two years later than in canon.

Pairings: Bella/Paul, eventual Angela/Leah

You can also read the story on ff.net!

(chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3)

Not beta read!

Chapter summary: First day of school, Angela turns out to be a gift from the gods and the Cullen siblings… not so much.

Chapter 4 - Meet the Cullens

The first discovery Bella made on Friday morning while walking from her front door to her truck was that the coat she’d brought from Arizona was not waterproof. It was pouring buckets, and she shivered as the raindrops pierced through the fabric of her coat and drenched the hoodie she was wearing underneath. Her second discovery was that dressing up for school had been a horrible decision; she’d worn her converse shoes that day and had landed in a puddle the moment she’d stepped out of her truck in the school parking lot.

With a growl, Bella slammed shut her door and jumped onto dry land. She fumbled with her keys as she tried to shake the water from her shoes and felt like crying when she dropped them into the puddle. People were starting to stare, so Bella pulled up her hood to hide her misery and fished her keys up. She was tempted to pull the ties of her hoodie to cover her face entirely as she approached the front office to get her schedule. The school was a collection of matching square buildings. They were all the made from the same maroon-colored bricks and surrounded by trees and shrubs. Bella’s mood did not lift; the heavy rain clouds made everything seem so dreary and cold. Her foul expression was enough to keep anyone from approaching her, but she made an effort to clear her face before greeting the receptionist.

The office has a small waiting room, equipped with folding chairs and a bulletin board, which displayed the words: Respect, Integrity, and Commitment. Underneath that was the school motto, ‘WE ARE ALL SPARTANS’, written in bright yellow letters.

“Isabella Swan, welcome,” said the squat woman sitting behind the desk before Bella had time to introduce herself. “Your father informed me you were coming.” Shelly Cope, her nameplate sat on the corner of her desk, had red hair and wore glasses that made her eyes seem small. Her impartial smile informed Bella that there wouldn’t be any small talk.

Good, Bella thought.

“Yes, I’m here for my schedule,” Bella said. The secretary pushed away from the table and rolled her chair over to the printer and pulled out some paper that she stapled together before showing it to Bella.

“Here you are. I’ve put a map in there as well.” She flipped it from underneath Bella’s schedule to show her the school’s layout. ”Your first class is 12th grade English, and it’s held in Building 3, room six. Mr. Berty, your teacher, will provide you with all the material you need for his class.” The dismissal was evident in her voice, and Bella thanked her before heading out into the rain again.

She shielded her papers from the worst of it and was grateful that Building 3 was the closest to the secretary office.

“Bella!”

Bella looked up at the sound of her name and saw it was Angela. They’d been about to enter the same building, and Bella nearly jogged into her when she paused to open the door. Angela held the door for her and their shoes squeaked against the linoleum floor, leaving wet footprints as they sought refuge from the rain.

“Hi, Angela,” Bella breathed.

“I didn’t think I would see you so soon,” Angela said pleasantly. She pulled down the hood of her raincoat and unzipped it to shake her hair out. Her glasses were starting to fog up from the rise in temperature. “What class do you have?”

“English,” Bella answered.

“With Mr. Berty? Me too.” Angela was familiar with the hallways, and Bella let her guide them to classroom six. There were a handful of students loitering outside the classroom, sluggish and heavy-lidded as they waited for the bell to ring. Angela waved to them, and the jerked their heads and mumbled an unenthusiastic greeting. Bella would fit in nicely here. She was already exhausted after having spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed from first-day-of-school jitters.

“What kind of teacher is he?” Bella asked her and sent the gathered students a stiff smile. Like Ms. Cope, they didn’t seem surprised to see her and shot her furtive sidelong glances.

The bell rang, signaling the start of class.

“I guess you’ll see for yourself,” Angela said apologetically as a tall man with graying hair opened the door from the inside. He must be Mr. Berty. He waved them inside with little fanfare, and Bella saw that he was wearing a tweed suit jacket with elbow patches and plaid pants. He looked like he could either be the type who believed that his own brilliance was wasted as a high school teacher or was simply eccentric. Bella hoped it was the latter.

They filed into a standard looking classroom. It was smaller than Bella was used to. Posters made by previous students covered the white walls, and the wooden tables were organized into three neat rows. They only allowed two students to sit side by side. Mr. Berty returned to his desk and Bella approached him while the students took their seats.

“Who might you be?” Mr. Berty asked, peering at her over his reading glasses.

“I’m the new student, Isabella Swan,” Bella said, and he nodded.

“Ah, yes. Here is the lesson plan for this term,” Mr. Berty said, and Bella was relieved that he wasn’t about to make her stand in front of the class and introduce herself like they were still in grade school. Instead, he did something much worse. “You might as well hand them out to the rest of the class. Take a seat once you’ve finished so we can get started.”

Bella took the stack of paper silently and made quick work of handing them out while Mr. Berty did the roll call. She avoided making eye contact with anyone, but her school bag hung off her elbow awkwardly, and it bumped against the tables every other step she took. She approached Angela last. She’d saved her a seat and Bella slid the sheet of paper over to her with a grateful smile.

“Now that we’re all here, there will be no mercy today even though it’s our first day. This is a double period class, and I see no point in wasting it by giving you a few more minutes of recess.” Mr. Berty clapped his hands together, making the half-asleep student jerk in their seats. He appeared to regain vigor from the sound of their groans. They’d all been hoping that he’d let them off easy today. “We’ll be focusing on Shakespeare’s work for the majority of the year but rest assured there will be plenty of opportunity for essay writing and presentations.” Mr. Berty smiled when his students slumped lower into their seats, their misery apparent.

The rest of his lecture continued in that fashion, and Bella wondered why teachers felt the need to tell their students everything that was written in the lesson plan. It must be a rite of passage to waste everyone’s time during the first day back. They were nearing the end of their first period when Mr. Bert finally stopped talking. He split them into pairs to 'work on their communication skills' as he put it.

Bella thanked the universe for already being acquainted with Angela because they shared a furtive grin and tackled the task at hand without needing any awkward introductions. They were supposed to compare their favorite work of fiction and discuss the differences and merits of each book. It turned out they both shared a love for Jane Austen so filling out the worksheet was a breeze. Angela chose Sense and Sensibility while Pride and Prejudice continued to be Bella’s favorite. They were in the midst of discussing the differences between Elinor Dashwood level-headedness and Elizabeth Bennet’s playful impertinence and drawing the similarities of their passionate nature when the bell rang.

“I’ve never met anyone who’s into Austen as much as I am,” Angela told Bella after they’d handed their worksheet to Mr. Berty.

“Me neither,” Bella said. It was true, Bella had spent hours reading and re-reading the novels in her youth but had been crushed to realize that none of her old classmates shared her interest in the classics. “Now, you have to be honest with me because this question will be a deciding factor for me to keep you as my friend or not.” Bella’s tone was mockingly grim, and Angela caught on quickly and assumed a serious face. “Fuck, marry, kill; Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Collin?”

Angela burst out laughing, blushing lightly at Bella’s crude language. “Oh, one is easy; kill Mr. Collins, but I always had a little bit of a crush on the Colonel after having seen the BBC adaptation from 1995,” she mused, making Bella gasp with delight.

“You’ve seen it?” Bella asked with uncontainable delight. She’d watched the series so many times that Renée refused to watch it with her anymore. She forgot her nervousness. “I don’t care who you fuck or marry; you are officially my best friend!”

Angela seemed just as eager as Bella. “I’ve got the special edition with restored colors and commentary,” she admitted in a shy voice, and Bella looped their arms together, letting Angela lead their way to their next class, which was American History.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Bella joked, and Angela nodded in agreement.

Their history lesson passed quickly; their teacher was as eager for the break as the students and promptly dismissed them after giving them the rundown of the course. Bella and Angela continued their conversation, and soon they’d made plans to meet up sometime and watch Angela’s entire Jane Austen film and tv-series adaptations together. Making friends wasn't so hard as Bella had initially thought. She was so relieved to have found a kindred spirit in Angela that she forgot to be worried about lunch.

They were sitting at one of the tables located in almost every corner of the hallways around the school and Bella was getting to know Angela a little better. Angela had lived in Forks her entire life; her father was the Lutheran minister, and her mother worked as an accountant for a small local business. She also had twin brothers, Joshua and Isaac, who could be very rambunctious and trying at times but Bella could hear the affection in her voice as she recounted all of their mischiefs. Angela was just getting into the swing of things, telling Bella about the time her brothers had put a lobster in the cradle as Baby Jesus before the start of the annual Christmas play when they were interrupted.

“Yo, Angie!” A blond haired boy called with unnecessary loudness. He strutted down the hallway towards them with two other guys. He perked up at the sight of Bella and

“Hi, I’m Mike,” he said and held out his hand for her to shake. He was smiling at her with a little too much interest and Bella heaved an internal sigh.

“Guys this is Bella.” Angela, bless her heart, took it upon herself to make the introductions. “Bella this is Austin-” she gestured to the acne-ridden sandy-haired boy who raised his hand in greeting. “- and this is Ben.” The short, black haired boy shot Bella an awkward smile as he sat down next to Angela and entwined their fingers together. Bella blinked. Angela hadn’t mentioned having a boyfriend.

“So, Bella-” Mike started to drawl.

“Where’s Jessica?” Angela asked Mike pointedly, cutting him off. He shrunk back and rubbed the back of his neck guiltily.

“She went with Lauren to save us a good table in the Mess,” Mike said. “She told us to go and find you. Your schedule is messed up; we hardly have any classes together. Ben here was starting to pine for you by the third period.”

Angela laughed awkwardly, tightening her grip on Ben and patted the back of his hand with her free hand. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have met Bella otherwise. Besides, we have photography together next class,” she reassured Ben and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. He blushed.

“C’mon, I’m starving,” Austin groaned, and they got up. Angela disentangled herself from Ben and fell into step with Bella. He didn’t seem to mind and took to discussing the new chapter of some superhero novel with Austin. Bella couldn’t help but notice that Angela was an entire head taller than her boyfriend, who was about as tall as herself.

The mess hall was starting to fill with hungry students, and they took their place in the forming queue to get their meal. The other students had food stamps, and Angela loaned Bella one of hers when she realized that she hadn’t brought any money.

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” Bella promised after thanking her. Angela shook her head and reassured her that it wasn’t necessary. Bella didn’t dare take the time to examine what the school had to offer with a line behind her and picked the same stuff as Angela. They headed for a table that was occupied by two pretty girls and two guys who were both wearing varsity jackets.

“Hey, Lauren, Jessica; this is Bella. She’s new here,” Angela introduced Bella when they took their seats.

“We know,” the girl with white blonde hair, Lauren, said. She seemed to dismiss Bella after giving her a once over with sharp green eyes and leaned into the dark-skinned boy sitting beside her. He tried to tangle his fingers in her hair, but she jerked her head away with a warning glare. He rolled his eyes and introduced himself as Tyler Crowley.

“Hi!” a brunette with voluminous curls waved cheerfully to Bella when she took a seat across from her. Mike had his arm around her shoulders. She must be Jessica. “Don’t mind, Lauren. She’s not good with new people.”

“Shut up, Jess,” Lauren scoffed, but there wasn’t any heat behind her words. Angela, who was sitting next to Bella, raised her eyebrows in a ‘what-can-you-do’ way and Bella stifled her smile.

“Hey, Conner,” Mike shared a fist bump with the other guy.

“Yo, dude. Did you catch the game last night?” Conner asked, licking his spoon free of yogurt.

“The Seahawks got slaughtered, man,” Tyler laughed, and Mike buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“Don’t remind me.” Mike shook his head, and they launched into a heated argument over which team player was to blame for their defeat. Jessica rolled her eyes and leaned forward to tell Angela about what kind of morning she’d had. Apparently, she’d found a dead squirrel on her front porch.

“- I literally died,” Jessica said dramatically, and Lauren grimaced with disgust.

“What did you do with it?”

“Dad got a stick and took it into the woods. It was super gross; it didn't have any eyes!” Jessica said with too much relish for a girl who was supposedly traumatized by the event.

Bella nibbled on the side of her cafeteria bland pizza slice and realized that she was sitting with the popular cheerleaders and jocks. It was an absurd thought because she’d spent years making fun of their type. She couldn’t help but think that Jessica and Lauren were both shallow, but then again; she hadn’t known them for more than twenty minutes.

It was a weird moment for her.

“So, we’re graduating soon. Have any, like, plans?” Lauren asked the entire table. She was obviously the leader here because the other conversations came to a stop to join hers. Lauren didn’t seem too interested in knowing their goals because she immediately launched into her own plans once she had their attention. “I’m going to Canada.”

“Lauren was scouted by a model agency in Victoria this summer,” Angela explained in a hushed voice when she noticed Bella’s confusion. Lauren seemed genuinely excited by the prospect, and she even let Tyler touch her hair when he pressed a kiss to her lips. Bella looked away at their display of affection.

“You’re going places, babe.”

“I’m going to attend uni in Seattle,” Ben said and the rest of the table seemed to have similar plans.

“I’m thinking about getting a degree in communications and maybe entertainment. I really want to have my own talk show one day,” Jessica piped up with a dreamy smile.

“Then you can interview me once I’m famous,” Lauren laughed, and Jessica joined her with a strained smile. Bella sensed a bit of jealousy coming from Jessica and wondered if it was because Laura was the more popular one.

“Totally!”

“What about you, Bella?” Mike asked her and Bella was suddenly the focal point of the entire table.

“Um, I’m going to university and maybe become a teacher.” She shrugged, flushing a little underneath their attention.

“Me too,” Angela said. “I want to be a kindergarten teacher.”

“What do you think the Cullens are going to do?” Jessica asked, and Bella was left behind at the leap in the conversation. She had no idea who the Cullens were, but it seemed like a favorite subject of Jessica’s because there was a gleam in her eyes while the others rolled their eyes. The atmosphere soured even further when Lauren spoke.

“Who cares? They don’t need jobs because they’re all rich and beautiful,” she sneered.

“Speak of the devil,” Mike muttered, and Bella looked up.

A lanky young man and what appeared to be a child at first glance had just entered the mess hall. A closer look told Bella that the girl wasn’t a child but around her age and was just unfortunately short and thin to the extremes. Despite this they looked like a pair of runway models who’d gotten lost on their way to the catwalk and somehow ended up in Forks, Washington instead. Bella couldn’t believe they were still in high school with features like that. Maybe it was the way they dressed, but they appeared years older than the rest of the student population. They walked with the kind of confidence rarely seen in a teenager, and there wasn’t a blemish in sight. They were both deathly pale, and the girl reminded Bella of a pixie; she appeared to float across the room with the graceful steps of a skilled dancer.

Bella felt a twinge of envy at her coordination. Some people just had it all.

Her companion was just as fetching. He was devastatingly handsome with windswept hair that was the most unusual shade of copper. Heads turned as they walked past but they didn’t seem to care, getting a tray of food and taking a seat in the corner. They slouched elegantly in their chairs and stared in separate directions in stony silence.

Were these the Cullens? Bella was almost afraid to ask at this point.

Sound returned to the room, and slowly the students returned to their conversations, shooting the Cullens glances as they put their heads together to whisper and giggle about something; most likely how hot they were.

Jessica sighed before she caught herself and shot Mike a guilty glance. He'd been checking out the pixie Cullen, and Jessica elbowed him in the gut. Mike winced.

“Are they related?” Bella wondered. They didn’t look remotely similar beyond their pale skin and good looks.

“Oh, no,” Jessica answered, eager to dish out their dirty secrets. “Dr. Cullen adopted them, that’s Alice and Edward Cullen, but they have three other siblings who graduated last year. Emmett Cullen, and the Hale twins; Rosalie and Jasper.” Jessica leaned in like she was about to share something scandalous, sending the Cullens an eager look. “They’re all like, together together.”

“Wait, like romantically?” Bella asked.

“It’s really weird,” Jessica nodded and was put out when she saw that Bella didn’t share her disgust.

“Well, you said that they’re not related,” Bella said slowly. Call her a romantic, but she believed that love could be found in the most unexpected places.

“It’s weird,” Jessica asserted before resuming her gossiping. “Alice and Jasper are together, and so are Emmett and Rosalie but Edward is like the only one who’s single,” she said and looked at Edward with a hungry expression. “He’s never shown anyone interest though because apparently, no one is good enough for him.” She blushed and drew back to fold her arms against her chest. Mike glared at Edward Cullen and pulled Jessica to him, which seemed to cheer her up. “Whatever, it’s not like I care.” Her sour expression gave away that she wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended. Bella didn’t know what to say to this.

She glanced at the Cullens again and met the golden eyes of Alice. Her large doe eyes were alight with some indiscernible emotion, and she whispered something to her brother, not taking her eyes off of Bella. Bella looked down at her plate quickly, embarrassed at having been caught but a quick glance told her that Edward was watching her as well. He didn’t seem to share his sister’s excitement and glared at Bella. Humiliated, she felt like a sideshow freak when they kept staring at her.

“Bella, what class do you have next?” Angela offered Bella an out from the awkward silence.

“I have Spanish,” she said after consulting her schedule. It had been an obvious choice because Bella had taken it in Phoenix, as it is the second most common language spoken in California and Arizona. “What about you?” Bella asked, and Angela reminded her that she had photography with Ben after lunch.

“I’m taking French,” Lauren piped up. She buffed her nails against her blouse without looking up. Jessica appeared to have gotten over her herself and her good mood was restored.

“So am I!” she said brightly. “Mike, you have trig right?”

“Don’t remind me,” he moaned and looked over at Connor and Tyler. “Do you guys remember anything from last year?”

“Nope.” They didn’t appear to be bothered by the fact and started to pile their trash onto their trays when the bell rang to signal the end of lunch.

Bella’s map came in handy when she was forced to split up with Angela, who’d been her guide up to this moment. She arrived at the correct classroom in the nick of time. Mrs. Geoff, the Spanish teacher, greeted her enthusiastically and made her stand in front of the class and introduce herself in Spanish. Bella wanted to sink into the floor, but her grasp on Spanish was good enough, and she was able to rattle off some inane facts about herself.

“¡Te felicito! Tu trabajo está muy bien hecho,” the teacher exclaimed and received blank-eyed stares from her students.

“Gracias, señora,” Bella said and quickly went to the only seat available. She nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw Alice Cullen sitting in the chair next to hers. Bella sat down and gave Alice an awkward smile, which she returned trifold, nearly blinding Bella with the beauty of it. Her teeth were straight and a pearly white. Bella had the urge to go and brush her teeth, feeling self-conscious.

“So your name is Bella?” Alice asked, her voice sounding like wind chimes. Bella got lost in her eyes for a moment. Bella had never seen such an unusual eye color; they were a stunning liquid gold. She shook herself out of her daze when she realized Alice was waiting for an answer.

“Sí,” Bella replied jokingly.

“How wonderful.” Alice’s smile widened impossibly. She seemed oddly thrilled about learning Bella’s name because she laughed with delight at the simple introduction. Even her laugh was beautiful.

Mrs. Geoff spoke in Spanish throughout the class, but Bella had a hard time focusing. Alice was the most beautiful creature she’d ever met, with her pale skin and red. She reminded Bella of a miniature Snow White.

Alice didn’t pay attention to Mrs. Geoff either because she kept asking Bella questions in a low whisper. Bella was a little flattered by it. The rest of the students seemed stunned to see Alice voluntarily talking to another human being outside her own family. Mrs. Geoff didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.

“What color were you thinking about?” Alice’s question brought Bella back. They’d somehow gotten onto the topic of interior design. Bella had learned that Alice was a fashion enthusiast with a thing for decorations, and had let slip that she was thinking about painting the wall in her room to add a little warmth to it.

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Bella admitted.

“Well, I recommend you go to Benjamin Moore in Port Angeles and look at their swatches. Here, let me give you my number in case you need help picking out the right color,” Alice said as the bell rang. She ripped some paper from her notebook and scribbled her mobile number on it and gave it to Bella.

“I don’t have a phone,” Bella said dumbly.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” Alice dismissed. “There are plenty of places that sell them.”

“Thanks.” Bella blinked, feeling like she’d been caught in a whirlwind.

“No, problem,” Alice smiled and waved as she headed in the other direction. “I’ll see you around, Bella!”

“See ya,” Bella said weakly. She got caught in the flow of students and walked with them in a slight daze.

Alice was a little overwhelming. It was apparent that she was the type who knew what she wanted and had no issues with getting it. It was an admirable trait, but Bella was a little shell-shocked after taking the brunt of her attention. Yes, Alice was persistent for someone her size but otherwise harmless. Mostly.

Bella soon learned that the same could not be said about her brother.

Biology class started out fine. Mr. Banner, the teacher, handed Bella her book and bade her take a seat without making her introduce herself using the theme of the subject as Mrs. Geoff had done. It would have made an interesting introduction: “Hi, my name is Isabella Swan, but call me Bella. I started out as a zygote inside my mother’s womb and developed into a human through the wonderful process of mitosis and meiosis. I’m also a Virgo.”

The only seat available was next to one Edward Cullen.

Everything rolled downhill after that.

Bella couldn’t help but stare at him when she walked between the aisles. Edward’s chiseled features belonged in renaissance paintings or on statues of Greek deities, crafted by master sculptors, not in this backwoods high school. Bella had never seen anyone as handsome as him. It was disquieting, and it provoked something indescribable inside her.

He looked like an angel.

When she drew near, his nostrils suddenly flared, and his head jerked up. Edward glared at her with monstrous black eyes, his pupil indiscernible from their darkness, and his face contorted like he’d smelled something foul. He went so far as to lean away from Bella as far as his seat allowed him when she sat down next to him.

Her heart gave a painful squeeze of mortification, and she quickly looked down at the tabletop, her hair falling forward to hide her face. She tried to subtly sniff her shirt to see if she stunk and was a little insulted when she smelled nothing out of the ordinary. Sure, Bella didn’t smell like her usual strawberry shampoo, having forgotten to pick it up at the store, but she wasn’t smelly, and her natural musk was too faint for Edward to smell from this distance. Maybe he was sick; he certainly looked like he was in agony.

She drew a breath and was about to ask him if he needed the nurse when a tantalizing sweet scent wafted towards her, similar to the one his sister bore. Her mind felt fuzzy, and Bella was drawn towards it like a bee to honey, but the look in Edward’s soulless eyes spelled death. It was a spine-chilling experience.

Bella looked away quickly. She took it back; Edward wasn’t a beautiful angel, not at that moment. He was an archangel, cast out of heaven and turned demonic. He didn’t look human.

Maybe he just has bad gas, she thought to herself, feeling the beginnings of hysteria creeping on her. Twenty minutes dragged past, and Bella kept one eye on the clock and the beast beside her. She hadn’t heard a word of what Mr. Banner was saying, distracted by the murderous intent emanating from Edward. He hadn’t moved, frozen in his odd hunched position. Bella doubted that he was even breathing; his chest wasn’t moving, and his hand was covering his mouth and nose. He certainly wasn’t blinking.

Fear. That was the feeling Edward provoked inside her; a deep primitive fear that urged Bella to either leap out of the window to get away from him or to pick up her pencil and stab it into those unnatural black eyes of his. Bella was not a violent person by nature so the sudden desire to attack a classmate, no matter how creepy, took her by surprise.

What was happening to her? Bella didn’t know, but she knew it had something to do with Edward. She refused to take this anymore; Edward Cullen had no right to affect her like this. Bella stood up and walked to Mr. Banner’s desk for her escape. He looked up at her, and she didn’t have to fake her nervous smile.

“Excuse me, sir. Can I go to the bathroom?” she asked in a low voice.

“Certainly,” Mr. Banner said and handed her a hall pass.

“Thank you,” Bella said and hurried out of the room. One last look at Edward almost sent her running. He was no longer straining back but leaning forwards like a predator readying itself to leap onto its prey. He looked like he wanted to eat her.

Bella settled for a brisk pace down the corridor instead of hightailing out of the school like she wanted to. She was halfway down the hallway when Alice Cullen, of all people, rounded the corner. She was speaking anxiously into her phone, and Bella caught a bit of her end of the conversation when they walked past each other. “-can’t see him, Carlisle. Hi, Bella!” Alice wiggled her fingers at her but didn’t slow down, which suited Bella just fine. She’d had enough of the Cullens today. “No. I’m getting him now.”

Him? Did she mean Edward? If so, Bella hoped she was taking him to the hospital for a rabies shot. He was clearly feral.

She made it to the bathroom without any hindrance and locked herself in one of the stalls. It offered her a bare minimum of protection, but at least no one could see her. If you can’t see it, it’s not there - it being a black-eyed monster in this case. The irrational thought was exactly what Bella needed to calm down. She stared blankly at the scribbles on the stall door as she wrangled her thundering heart under control. Someone had written in looping cursive about, oddly enough, the militia movements of the Confederate Army in the Civil War. It was signed J. W. at the bottom, and Bella sent a silent thank-you to them for the distraction.

Five minutes passed faster than she liked and Bella was forced to return to the Biology classroom. She felt like she was heading towards the gallows.

Edward was nowhere in sight, and Bella was faint with relief. She returned her hall pass with shaking hands and returned to her seat. Feeling brave, she vindictively took the chair Edward had occupied. It was silly, but it gave Bella a small measure of comfort; how evil could he be if his presence hadn't left behind a tainted mark.

Bella’s thought hadn’t even finished when she noticed hairline fractures in the wood extending from the place where Edward had gripped the desk. Had he broken the counter? It seemed a bit excessive, but Edward must really not like her. She ran her fingers on the underside of the wood and found finger size groves embedded there.

Her breath came fast and shallow, and Bella was on the verge of hyperventilating when she caught a flash of copper in her peripheral vision. Her mind had evidently associated the color with Edward, and rightly so, because her head snapped to the side, afraid that he was coming for her again. Alice was frog marching Edward across the car park. It would have been a comical sight, Edward’s lanky height dwarfed Alice’s tiny form, if Bella wasn’t freaking out. Alice led him towards the woods for some reason. Didn’t they have a car?

Then something astonishing happened; Alice pushed her brother forward with unnatural strength and his shape blurred as he took off at a sprint. With the same supernatural speed, Alice followed suit, and they were both gone before Bella had time to blink.

The only thing keeping Bella grounded was the grip she still had on the table, her fingers fitting into the indentations Edward had left behind.

It was proof that she hadn’t lost her mind.

A/N: I don’t speak Spanish and neither does anyone else in my family so don’t hesitate to correct me if what Mrs. Goff said was incorrect!

Next chapter: Momma Renée gives life advice, and dinner at Billy’s turns into an eye-opening experience, featuring Bella; the amazing grocery mountaineer.

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quentinsquill · 7 years

Text

Fic: It’s the Great Pumpkin, Quentin Coldwater (The Magicians)

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Quentin Coldwater

Author: Lexalicious70

Fandom: The Magicians

Pairing: Quentin/Eliot

Genre: Holiday themed, Halloween

Word Count: 2,445

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: On Halloween, the Brakebills maze is transformed into a spooky wonderland, and there’s tricks and treats in store for Eliot and Quentin as they try to find their way out.

Author’s notes: This is for the Neitherlands Halloween Challenge Fic Swap! I don’t own The Magicians, this is just for fun. This fic is for @wavesaerp, and I hope they enjoy it! Comments and kudos are magic: thanks for reading!

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Quentin Coldwater

By Lexalicious70

“Come along, Quentin, it’s time to go!”

Quentin started as his copy of The World in the Walls was tugged from his hands. He looked up to see the book float into Eliot’s hand like a tame bird, and then all thoughts of magic and Fillory fled as Quentin took in what Eliot was wearing. It was a resplendent blue suit, the slacks lined with thin pinstripes, the jacket trimmed white, his ascot a deep cranberry. He carried a wooden walking stick tipped with a silver handle and—most incredible of all—a fur-trimmed cape pinned over one shoulder. The material was heavy and matched the color of his ascot exactly. A red pocket square, dotted with small white diamonds, completed the outfit. Quentin finally found his voice.

“Go? Where?”

Eliot sent the Fillory book floating up the cottage stairs and into the safety of Quentin’s room before he adjusted his ascot.

“It’s All Hallows Eve, Q.”

“Yeah . . . I’ve never really been into it? Even when I was a little kid and my dad used to take me out for trick or treat, I never liked being scared. It’s just not my thing.” He tried not to stare at the way Eliot’s tailored trousers showed off his trim hips and long legs, or how they made Quentin wonder what he wore underneath them.

“Well, it’s going to be your thing tonight. Come on! Up, up!” Eliot’s long, thin fingers curled around Quentin’s right wrist and tugged him to his feet.

“Aren’t we a little old to go trick or treating? And what are you wearing?”

Eliot lifted his walking stick and spun in a slow, graceful circle. It flared the cape out, reminding Quentin of his mild superhero fetish, and he shoved those thoughts aside as Eliot smiled at him.

“I’m Oscar Wilde!” He lifted both hands and spread his long arms out. “Because much like the man himself, I can resist everything except temptation. Also, we’re not going trick or treating, we’re going to the Haunted Halloween Maze of Magic!”

“The Haunted . . . what? Where’s that?”

Eliot sighed and gave Quentin a look that suggested the conversation was exhausting him.

“All right, it’s just the Brakebills maze, but once a year, Quentin, it turns into a haunted wonderland where almost anything can happen! And it’s tradition that a second year, such as myself, takes a first year, i.e. you, through the maze with the challenge that we find our way out before midnight.”

“Oh. Well . . . I don’t have a costume or anything.”

Eliot looked him up and down and then tugged on his wrist.

“Come with me.”

“El, wait—”

“It’s nearly nine already, there’s no time for waiting!” He took Quentin up to his room and opened the closet door while Quentin tucked his Fillory book back into his bookcase. Eliot tossed a pair of slacks, a button-down shirt, sweater vest, and tie onto the bed. “Dress in those, I’ll be right back.” Eliot vanished into the hallway. Quentin started to protest and then rolled his eyes, knowing it would probably be a waste of breath. He changed out of his jeans and sweater and into the clothes Eliot picked out. Eliot returned a moment later with a pair of glasses, which he handed to Quentin. “Put these on.”

Quentin opened them, frowning. They were oversized and a terribly outdated tortoiseshell brown, but he slipped them on. The lenses were thin and did nothing to change his vision—they were clearly a prop. Eliot grabbed a comb from the dresser and parted Quentin’s hair before adding a touch of spray.

“Voila!” He smiled. “You’re Martin Chatwin!”

Quentin looked at himself in the mirror and felt a smile tug at his lips—it wasn’t a horrible likeness. He touched the glasses.

“Thanks, El. Where did you get these?” He asked, and Eliot lifted a shoulder.

“I did my share of acting back in high school, and it taught me that it never hurts to have props handy. Now come on, we’re going to be late!”

___________________________________________________

Once Quentin and Eliot crossed the expanse of lawn Brakebills students called The Sea, points of orange light became visible as the approached the maze. As they got closer, Quentin saw the air around the top of the trimmed shrubbery was filled with magical motes of light that cruised around like fireflies. He smiled—even after a month or so of being a student at Brakebills, seeing real magic still filled his heart with awe. The entrance to the maze was heaped with fat pumpkins and a glowing jack-o-lantern face, its visage built directly into the greenery, boomed eerie laughter as they passed. Quentin jumped like he’d been goosed.

“Eliot, I don’t know about this . . .”

“I told you, Q, it’s tradition!” The older boy snagged his wrist and tugged him into the maze. Quentin looked over his shoulder for a last-minute reprieve, but the entrance seemed to vanish and leave nothing behind but a dead end. The orange lights cast shifting shadows across Eliot’s profile as Quentin looked up at him.

“What now?”

“We choose a direction.” Eliot paused. “Left.”

“Why left?”

“Because in my experience nothing good ever comes from the right. Follow me.” Eliot turned, his cape flaring, and Quentin tagged after him. As they walked, the hedges on both sides seemed to close in. The path grew narrow, and soon Quentin was bumping into Eliot with nearly every step. Their hands brushed together and Quentin pulled his back.

“Sorry.” He murmured, hoping the near-darkness hid his blush. “It’s like the maze is changing.”

“It is.” Eliot nodded. “That’s part of the fun, Q.”

They turned a corner, then another, and Quentin gave a yawp of surprise and fear as hands made of leaves and twigs reached out from the hedges to grasp at them.

“Shit, shit!” He spun and slapped at them as Eliot whacked them with his walking stick. Quentin kicked at one of the hands before stumbling backwards and doing an awkward ballerina-style leap toward Eliot, who caught him.

“Easy, Q!” He steadied the younger magician, his hands lingering on Quentin’s shoulders a moment before letting them drop.

“I told you this wasn’t my thing!” Quentin eyed the hands as they retreated into the hedges.

“You’re doing fine.” Eliot checked his pocket watch. “We’ve got a little under an hour to find the exit. Onward!” Eliot pointed with his walking cane before moving forward. Quentin walked alongside him, his hands shoved up under his arms to avoid any more contact with Eliot. He wondered if the tiny sparks of electric chemistry he felt when he and Eliot touched was magic, Eliot’s natural telekinetic abilities, or his imagination.

No matter what it is, Quentin thought, there’s no way he feels like I do.

Not that his feelings were anything new—he’d been attracted to men before, including a brief, intense crush on his best friend James when they were about fifteen. But that had been James, and it had burned hot and fast before his feelings for Julia had bloomed and consumed the remains. Now his feelings for Julia were nowhere to be found, and Eliot’s closeness and scent—sandalwood, wet cedar, and good tobacco—were filling his senses.

A branch snapped behind them, jolting Quentin out of his own head. He glanced over his shoulder, but the path behind them was empty. Crisp leaves crunched under Eliot’s fine black boots. The hair on Quentin’s arms and the nape of his neck stood up all at once, making him feel like an anxious porcupine.

“El? I think something is—”

A rapid-fire snapping of branches broke behind them, along with a snarl that sounded like thousands of dried leaves being shaken from brittle fall branches. A topiary tiger, its coat a striped mosaic of orange and moisture-darkened leaves, leapt onto the path behind them. It roared, its teeth made from rows of curved thorns, and Eliot grabbed Quentin’s wrist.

“Run!”

Quentin stumbled as Eliot pulled him along. He sensed they weren’t in any immediate danger and that the tiger was part of the game, but he didn’t especially want it to touch him either. Leaves rustled and hissed under the tiger’s powerful gait, and Eliot yanked on Quentin’s wrist as he turned sharply to the left.

“In here!” He pulled Quentin into another corridor and they crouched there, panting, as the tiger bounded past. As his panic faded, Quentin realized his back was pressed to Eliot’s chest. He stepped away, fumbling with his glasses as he felt heat rush to his cheeks. After a moment, he realized he couldn’t see his own hands, or Eliot. The tops of the hedges loomed over their heads and were growing together, plunging the path into darkness. Quentin tried to cast a miniature sun spell, but the magic in the maze prevented such cheats. A sharp yo-yo of anxiety bobbed in his chest.

“Eliot? Are you still th—”

A rising, warbling wail began to rise all around them, and Quentin raised his hands in self-defense as hooded figures, their eyes flaring red, began to fill the air. They cackled and shrieked, tugging at his sweater, his hair, and snatching at his hands until Quentin’s resolve broke and he bolted, pelting through the darkness with the hooded figures in pursuit.

“Shit! Shit, shit! Eliot!” He shouted in between gulping breaths, and then he slammed into something warm and solid. Big, elegant hands touched his shoulders and Quentin realized he’d run nearly full tilt into Eliot. His fingers clutched at Eliot’s jacket, his system flooded with adrenaline. Eliot’s long arms looped around him and pulled him close.

“It’s me! Q . . . easy! Hey! It’s me.”

Quentin laid his cheek against the soft fabric of Eliot’s shirt as his panic ebbed and he allowed himself the comfort of Eliot’s embrace. He realized they fit together easily, the top of Quentin’s head tucked under Eliot’s dimpled chin. The shrieks faded away but Eliot’s arms remained around him. Quentin forgot how to breathe as Eliot held him.

“Eliot?” He managed at last, and one of Eliot’s arms pulled back and a hand cupped his chin, tilting it upward. The flickering orange lights returned, filling the pathway with an umber glow. Tiny points of light danced in Eliot’s eyes as they circled the two magicians, and Quentin swallowed hard. Eliot’s long fingers brushed his cheek and Quentin leaned into the touch. Eliot’s eyes widened for the pace of a heartbeat, and then his lips brushed against Quentin’s in a gesture that was half a kiss, half a question. Quentin paused, his heart slamming all over again, before touching Eliot’s face and pressing his lips against the taller boy’s in an inexperienced but warm kiss as heat and hope flooded him in equal measure. Eliot broke the kiss and his tongue flicked out briefly to taste his own lips, as if to savor what he’d tasted there.

“Why did you do that?” Quentin asked after a moment, and Eliot looked down him.

“Because I wanted to. I’ve been wanting to. Why did you?”

“For the same reason, I guess?” Quentin hedged.

“Then why didn’t you do it sooner?” Eliot smiled as he traced his fingers up and down Quentin’s spine.

“I . . . I guess I figured there was no way someone like you would ever be interested in someone like me.”

“Someone like me. Mmmmh.” Eliot nodded, looking thoughtful. “And I suppose it didn’t occur to you, Quentin Coldwater, that someone like you is exactly what someone like me needs?”

Quentin blinked.

“But El, I’m . . .”

“Ah ah!” Eliot hushed him. “Yes. I am fully aware that you’re high strung and anxious and filled with self-doubt. That you think you’re broken. But what you don’t know is that I am, too. And do you know what happens when you put two broken pieces together?” Eliot tugged him close again and Quentin lifted his arms to slide them around Eliot’s waist.

“Oh.” Quentin said softly, and Eliot nuzzled his nose into Quentin’s soft, tawny hair.

“Precisely.” Eliot pulled back and touched Quentin’s face before reaching down to take his hand. “Come on. Let’s find the end of this thing before the clock strikes midnight and we turn into pumpkins.”

Quentin snorted wryly, folding his fingers around Eliot’s as they stepped back into the other corridor. The orange motes danced around them, and then as they turned another corner, they heard laughter and saw the glow of a bonfire at the end of the path. Quentin grinned and tugged at Eliot’s hand.

“That’s it! Come on!”

They jogged toward the sights and sounds of the other students celebrating, and Quentin breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped out. Cheers rose up around them, and Eliot grinned as he took Quentin’s hands.

“You were very brave, Martin.”

“As were you, Oscar.” Quentin rose up on the front arches of his feet to kiss him. Eliot smiled.

“So . . . is Halloween still not your thing?” He asked, and Quentin smiled and leaned into Eliot as they headed back toward the cottage together.

“Maybe I could get used to it.”

As the celebration by the bonfire continued, a section of hedges parted and three hooded figures stepped out.

“Well!” Margo grinned and pushed her hood back. “That was a hell of a lot easier than I thought.”

“Told you that nerdboy has been in love with that lush since the day he fucking stepped on campus.” Penny pushed his hood back, rolling his eyes. Margo nodded.

“That tiger spell was pretty impressive, I have to admit. Although it was my dementors that finally got him into Eliot’s arms.”

“Like those topiary hands didn’t freak him out?” Kady scoffed, pushing back her hood and shaking out her curls. Margo materialized a bottle of merlot into one hand, used a spell to uncork it, and then took a long pull on it before passing it to Penny. He gave her a shrewd look but his dark eyes sparked briefly with humor before he took a drink and passed it to Kady. The bonfire’s flames painted orange streaks on her cheeks as she drank.

“In any case, I’d call it mission accomplished.” Margo removed her cloak with a flourish. “Come on, you losers . . . let’s go find a party to crash.”

The flames of the bonfire leapt high as a harvest moon rose high over Brakebills, illuminating the maze and the retreating students with a magic all its own.

FIN

#the neitherlands library #Queliot #Halloween fic #The Magicians #fic challenge

18 notes · View notes

hammy-ton · 7 years

Text

LEARN TO SAY GOODBYE

3. Burr, sir.

“Theodore get ready! You have boarding school in an hour.” Burr yelled from across the house. The young man was cleaning the house while his wife was still ill.

Even having work for the militia, Aaron continued to maintain the house duties for his wife’s sake. He couldn’t have her doing work in her condition. Aaron smiled as he wiped down the table, looking at the family frame hanging in the center of the kitchen wall. “Theodore!” Aaron yelled again. “Yes father?” A child-like voice appeared from behind Aaron. The young man turned quickly and saw his son dressed up neatly. Theo wore his clothes his father had recently given to him. It was a cravat surrounded by a salmon color coat with pale trousers exposing his knees and sock garters. Aaron smiled and pat the boy’s head before facing the table again.“Have you studied your Greek and Latin?” Aaron asked. Theodore nodded immediately and grabbed a stack of books that somehow reached high enough to cover his face. “Yes father!” He yelled.“You should head to school now, son. You wouldn’t want to be late. Theodore nodded and carried his stack of books with him as he slid through the door. “PHILIP! ARE YOU READY FOR SCHOOL! YOU NEED TO BE THERE EARLY!” Alexander yelled as he looked over at the stairs. “COMING!” A voice yelled from above the ceiling.

Philip ran quickly downstairs, jumping off half of the stairs that remained. His hair once again bouncing to every movement always made Alexander laugh. Alex could always spot his son from a mile away. As soon as Philip got down, he ran towards his father with his clothes handpicked by his mother.

It was a brown and khaki frockcoat along with a waistcoat and trousers, all of suede leather with white stockings. “Handsome as always,” Alexander noted with a smile.

“Just like pa!” Philip replied while getting his books. Alexander chuckled and nodded with a smirk. "Got looks that can get any woman," he stated while patting his shoulder. Philip laughed and smiled with his rosy cheeks, inherited by his father, showed on his skin. “I have to go. It’s almost time, Pa. I’ll be back home when school ends” Philip added. The young boy looked back and waved before he raced out of the house and downtown to school. While running, he bumped into a young boy with a fort of books around him. Philip rubbed his bruised head and looked up with a concerned expression before smiling quickly and grabbing the books scattered everywhere on the pavement.

“THEODORE!” Philip yelled.

Theo groaned lightly and looked up to see his cheerful freckled friend.“Hello, Philip,“he said with a light chuckle.

"On your way to school early too, huh?"Philip asked, lending a hand out to his dark skinned friend. The fallen boy grabbed the other’s hand, getting up and nodding to the question. They both continued walking towards the school, talking and joking around before waking into the classroom. "Did you study for the quiz?” Philip asked as he pointed at Theodore’s book on Latin. Theo nodded and smirked. “Yeah, it’ll be a piece of cake. I’ll probably have the highest score in the class.” He said. The freckled boy immediately scoffed and laughed at his friend.

“Not with me around! I’ll surpass your scores by a longshot!” Philip protested as he crossed his arms and leaned onto his desk.“

"Wanna bet?” Theodore looked at his best friend, eye-ing him with a devilish smile.

“Bet.” Philip responded. He returned the smile and looked over at his desk with confidence.

The two shook hands and laughed before sitting in their assigned seats. All the students screamed and sang while Theodore and Philip were silent, lost in their own world. The two glanced at one another with a sly grin, keeping their deal. Philp knew he could never be outshined, even if it were his best friend. Theodore on the other hand knew he had always been the highest scoring student since enrolling. Whether it was a friend or foe, Theo wasn’t going to hold back.

Before they could start an argument over who was better, whether it be looks or grades, class had started and everyone quickly sat down and silenced after hearing their professor yell.

The quiz was given out and everyone sat in their own doubt except for the two little geniuses.

They both raced through the quiz, pressing hard on the pen. It was amazing seeing that neither of them broke the pen or spilled any ink. They read each sentence correctly yet quickly, skimming through it as if they could reach a paragraph within a few seconds. Before they knew it, the two ran up to the professor and slammed their papers on his desk with pure force. The loud noise startled all the students, including the professor himself. Both childish boys glared at one another, filling the room with a competitive and scary aura.

“I TURNED IT IN FIRST.” Philip whispered loudly. A little too loudly.

“NO, I TURNED IT IN FIRST. MY HAND TOUCHED THE DESK FIRST!” Theodore raised his voice along with Philip.

“NUHUH”

“YUHUH”

“NUHUH”

“YUHU-”

“SHHHH” Everyone shoo-ed them with a glare. The two boys sank into their seats with puppy dog eyes from guilt before giggling quietly.

Class ended and the two boys ran out quickly to the park, off to the tree Theodore had always sat by. They rested there with faint pants and spoke jokes and tails of their father.

“My pops is making a national bank,"Philip said proudly, putting his hands on his fist and puffing his chest out.

"My father serves in the New york State Assembly,” Theodore said with a smile. None one of them had ever met each other’s father’s,however through vivid descriptions, they had respect for the unknown man.The conversation regarding their father went on for half an hour before they got up and played around. “Hey that’s cheating!” Theodore yelled as he tried catching up to the freckled boy who climbed on the tree.

“Nuhuh, you can climb it can’t you?” Theodore blushed to think he could be doubted. “Yeah! I can climb it!” He yelled. “Then it’s not cheating!” Philip added, sticking his tongue out with a smile. The dark skinned boy smirked and climbed on the tree quickly trying to catch his friend. Before he could catch him, the freckled eight year old jumped off the tree, falling onto the ground and rolling on the grass. He stood up quickly and cleaned himself before the boy tackled him onto the ground. “Hah! I got you!” Theodore yelled as he got up quickly and ran behind the tree. The two ran in circles around the tree until they collapsed from exhaustion and dizziness. They giggled and laid on the ground, resting as their pulse went to it’s normal rate.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Philip said as his eyes locked on the sky, seeing the sun set quickly. He was fixated on the color, not realizing how late it got.

Theodore nodded and looked over at the freckled boy. They leaned against the tree and admired the view before a hand tightly gripped onto Philip’s arm and yanked him up onto his feet.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Alex yelled with a hoarse voice, giving a death stare to his son.

“PA! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?” Philip asked in a startled state. Alexander sighed and looked down at his child. “You told me you’d be home after school. What is this?"he asked as he crooked his head to the side to see the dark skinned startled boy hiding behind his son. He squinted at the child and analyzed him before facing Philip again.

"I’m sorry, pa! I was with my friend, Theo!” Philip yelled as he looked over at Theodore, giving a gesture to him, asking for help. He looked at his father, nearly crying from fear.

Theodore nodded, horribly frightened and stood up quickly, standing straight with his chest puffed out. “Yes sir. He and i were just playing here and we lost track of time. I’m so sorry, Mr. Hamilton!”

“What’s your name, boy?” Alex asked, looking at how terrified the boy was to him.

“I-I’m Theodore Burr, s-sir..!” The boy yelled as he coward a bit to the tree beside him.

“Burr?” Alexander asked with a confused expression. “You’re the son of Aaron Burr?” He looked at his face, soon seeing the resemblance.

Theodore nodded quickly as his lip quivered in fear, his body shaking as well with pure intimidation.

Alexander loosened his grip on Philip and sighed lightly as he combed his hair back from stress and worry. “I see It’s getting late, Philip. You shouldn’t be out here this late.” He said with a stern expression.

Philip looked at both Theodore and Alexander at a time as a frown began to form. He nodded slowly and hung his head, letting out a light sigh. “Okay, pa..” he responded. Alex walked away as his son quickly followed behind him like a shadow. The boy glanced at his friend and waved slowly with a small frown. Aaron simply sat underneath the tree, frowning as well. He didn't want to be alone again. He never knew Philip's father was that scary. Huwt the thought of him made Theodore shudder as chills go down his spine. Theo's father was never like that. He was a kind and cautious man. Theo looked down at his hands and thought of his father, comparing him to Alexander.

“Pops, do you know Burr?” Philip asked, grabbing onto his father's hand from a forced habit.

The goatee bearded young man smiled faintly as he continued to walk. He pulled Philip’s hand and looks straight forward.

“I do,” he said in a lighter tone than usual. “We both were around when the revolutionary war had started. I met him one day in New York City.” The man added.

Alexander looked up, thinking to himself over the times he had bumped into Burr. New York City, George’s office, during the war, at school, in Jersey..They would always bump into each other, it was funny.

He then remembered the day he nearly died. It was early in the morning and it seemed beautiful out, even if the sun hadn’t risen to the sky. “

Alexander…We duel. Weehawken,” Burr said with a hoarse and intimidating tone. Alex looked over and noticed he was nearby the river in Jersey. He turned around slowly, finding Aaron holding his pistol. Alex felt nauseous all of a sudden. He began sweating and found himself clenching onto his stomach, feeling the air suffocate him. He turned quickly with his thoughts getting louder, driving him insane.

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE. LAURENS IS THERE ISNT HE? MY MOTHER IS THERE,RIGHT? I’LL BE THERE, WON’T I..? ELIZA! SHE’S GOING TO BURST. SHE’S GOING TO CRY AND BREAK. I CAN’T BEAR TO BREAK HER HEART AGAIN. FORGIVE ME, ELIZA. PLEASE FORGIVE ME. I CAN’T DIE. I CAN’T SHOOT. I WON’T SHOOT-”

“WAIT!!!!” A voice yelled breaking Alexander from his delusions, seeing both of them shoot straight up into the sky.

Aaron fell to his knees, crying, letting his pistol drop as he covered his face. Alex wobbled towards the other man before falling down in complete shock. He loosened his grip on his pistol, staring at the dirt. “Theodosia..” Aaron said loudly in a slurred manner as he sobbed. “Philip, my son.. "Eliza, my dearest. I’m not leaving,” Alex whispered to himself, silently crying.

Alexander smiled and closed his eyes, tears forming on the corner of his eyes. I can hear him. Every day I can hear him. “Pops-.. pops..hey.. pops!” Alex looked up, startled before looking down to see the small boy tugging onto his sleeve repeatedly. “Are you alright, pops?” Philip asked, looking over at his father, seeming slightly terrified. It was the third time this month that Philip saw his father break down from his thoughts.

Alexander faintly smiled before nodding. “I’m okay, son. I’m sorry I was just thinking,” he responded while gripping on Philip’s small hand tighter. “I love you, son.” He added while staring at the door with a smile. Philip looked over and smiled in return. “I love you too, pa..”

#hamilton #hamiltrash #fanfic #alexander hamilton #aaron burr #philip hamilton #theodosia burr #theodore burr #eliza schuyler

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