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whoacanada · 3 years

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‘Wishful Thinking‘

Summary: Every NHL champion gets a single brush with ice magic. When Jack takes his first cup with the Falconers, he accidentally undoes the wish that brought him back from the brink of death in 2009, and Bitty becomes hell-bent on lifting the cup himself for a chance to set things right.

A/N: Finally posting some concepts I’ve played around with that aren’t 100% complete massive fics, but still pretty solid, just little things that might be enjoyed. Yet another cup-wish-gone-wrong-au with monkey-paw components. Also inspired by discord convos about canon!Jack meeting an older, veteran NHL!Bitty and having a lot of feelings. Also mentor/father-in-law!Bob trying to help Bitty navigate the NHL. There’s more to this floating around but this is the meat of it

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Bob can sense when it happens. A shift of something monumental that he’s only felt on a handful of occasions his entire life. A quick glance across the ice finds a number of the celebrating Falconers looking around curiously, unsure of the sensation; for so many, it’s their first brush with ice magic. A pleasant novelty. The vets, though, they look to each other.

Bob turns and doesn’t have to look far to find his son, one hand clasped around the cup, the other around Eric Bittle’s waist, smiling from ear to ear. Something about the moment is wrong, but Bob can’t quite determine why as he’s overcome with a wave of nausea. The stadium lights are too bright and he blinks hard, face scrunching, trying to force whatever wrongness he’s feeling out of himself.

Someone’s made a wish.

The moment passes. Bob’s vision clears. There, veiled in a shower of blue and gold confetti, is Eric; alone at center ice, face twisted in confusion as he looks around for the man who only moments earlier had been in his arms.

“You take the cup, you get one real wish,” the decades old, bourbon-lacquered voice of his first coach reminds him. “But only the one. Can be something small, like an empty cab in the rain, or it can be something big. World changing, even. The one thing, the most important thing — ”

“No,” Bob breathes. “Please, no.”

“— You never use your wish on another player.”

____________

They don’t know exactly what Jack wished for, but the next time Bitty’s blades touch the ice, it’s as if he’s stepped into the body of a new man. No more slurs. No more targeted chirps. He’s just one of the boys.

He plays. He wins. Then, the offers start to come.

NHL teams looking for fast wingers, team players, leadership material; not one of them mentions diversity, or Eric’s status as the first out NCAA hockey captain. No one cares. No one remembers Jack, and no one cares about Eric.

The best and worst case scenarios rolled into one. If this is the reality Jack unknowingly traded his existence for, Bitty has no choice but to walk through the door his partner opened.

Bitty swallows, trying to force the words out on one of his now nightly calls with the man who would have been his father-in-law in another world, if the shared connection between them hadn’t been interred in a Montréal cemetery almost a decade prior.

“I think . . . I think he wished for acceptance.”

___________

“No one remembers anymore.”

Eric scuffs his skate against this ice, building up a small pile of shavings before scattering them again, focusing on the soft white as if somehow he’ll be able to transport himself bodily to somewhere cool and quiet. Jackson Hole. Banff. Tremblant. Anywhere but here. Anywhen but now.

“Saw Tater last week at a press junket. Blank stares all around. Some days, most days, I wake up and I don’t know how I got here. I can go without thinking of him.”

Weeks. Eric doesn’t say aloud. Months. Those hideous mornings when he wakes up beside a warm body and forgets they aren’t him. They aren’t supposed to be him. Was there ever even a him.

Jack. Eric mouths silently, just to remind himself. His name is Jack.

The details always slip. The universe constantly trying to correct the fallacy of Eric Bittle remembering a man who died before they technically ever met. Faded photographs and corrupted memory cards. Selfies that used to have two people in frame. Vlog posts with cosmic ADR, swapping Jack’s name for someone else’s like a hastily rewritten script. Eventually, even Eric’s memories turn traitor. First times lost to reshoots and post-production magic. Blue eyes are brown. Black hair is blonde. Jack becomes Phillip. Eric’s first love recast. In desperation, he pulls a page from Memento, finds a tattoo parlor and has ‘Jack Laurent Zimmermann’ inked in dark, unmistakable letters on his inner thigh. Adds a cup, the Falconers’ crest, and the date they lost everything. It works well enough until the name fades; there are still days where a hook up will ask why Eric has a championship tattoo for a team he never played with.

Now, all he has is Bob.

“That’s why I’m here.” Bob reminds. “That’s why we talk.”

“But what happens if we don’t.”

Bob’s familiar assurances rumble through the phone. Constant. Refusing to acknowledge the harsh realities of the passing of time. The ever-present doomsday clock moving them both toward disaster — Bob aging, Eric aging out. He’s good, but he isn’t great, and the only offers coming his way are single-season contracts with teams that haven’t sniffed a championship in years. One day very soon, there will be no more chances for Eric to undo what’s been done. No more favors to ask of teammates that have long since forgotten a world where Jack Zimmermann was a college graduate and a rookie MVP. Not just an addict. Not just dead at nineteen.

Eric listens to Bob ramble, asks him to tell him a story, to tell him about the Jack that Eric never really got to know. The Jack he can barely remember. A man that Eric has dedicated his entire life to honoring, to bringing back — from where he cannot fathom — and Bob obliges in a soft tone Eric imagines is not dissimilar from how he must have spoken to his son as a child.

Eric ignores his teammates rushing around him — tossing chirps and gentle insults about his ‘Sugar Daddy’ — and focuses on the accented voice in his ear; grasping desperately at the memory of a man who doesn’t exist. Pretending. Hoping.

__________

Across the ice, Eric sees Kent Parson watching him. When they lock eyes, the aging star glides toward him, under a guise of one amicable captain greeting another. He’s pushing 37, and while the years of competitive play are starting to show, he’s just as viciously handsome as the day they first met. At least, Eric thinks he is. He can’t imagine a life where Kent Parson strolled onto a college campus and played beer pong at a frat party, but there’s a folder of old photos on Eric’s computer. Jack is in none of them, but there’s one of himself and Kent. Smiling.

Eric can’t recall why the image bothers him so much.

Parson used his wish years ago on something that he’s never bothered to share — and Eric’s far too much a gentleman to ask a man who was once a rival what he wasted his golden ticket on — but now, he’s slowing down, and this is supposed to be his farewell season. Going out with a bang, riding the high of his fifth cup win. He’s worked hard, and he deserves to shove the Penguins back down into obscurity for another season. Deserves it far more than Eric, with his selfish, single-mindedness that’s ruined god knows how many careers in the last decade between his own ruthlessness and Bob’s meddling.

Except. . . this is also likely Eric’s last season. His last chance to undo the great tragedy of his life, and Parson knows it.

“How you feeling, Peaches? You ready?”

Eric hates the nickname in the same way he hates when his father calls him ‘Champ’.

Eric fights his own shame because he wants to be honest, say, ‘No, I’m not ready, I’ll never be ready,’ but Eric can’t ask for what he wants, anymore. He wants the Aces to balk on a power play. He wants Parson to flub a pass and throw the game — he even knows the man would probably do it, too — but Eric needs to come by a win honestly. They learned the hard way in 2022 when Eric hands were wrapped around the cup, wishing, praying, crying, pleading . . .

Clear eyes, full hearts, or some such bullshit.

Cheaters don’t get wishes.

“I can’t remember, anymore,” Eric admits as they square up across the face-off circle, the resigned terror of an inescapable end creeping upon him like the burn of an old injury ignored for far too long. “Kent. Please.” Parson leans down, rests his stick against the ice, and holds Eric’s gaze as if to say, I’m here. Trust me. Just play.

The puck drops.

________

There’s someone watching him, young, handsome with dark hair and the kind of bright blue eyes that scream ‘notice me’ with all of the biological bluntness of neon plumage and a mating dance. The man weaves through the crowd, unnoticed by Eric’s teammates, and comes close enough that Eric can’t help but assume familiarity. He must be a fan, the way he’s flushed and excitable.

Eric’s drunk enough on the moment that he’s happy to indulge his baser instincts. He also literally can’t remember the last time he brought company home and if there’s ever been a night to get laid, it’s this one.

“Crisse, look at you, Bits.”

The man is caught between being awestruck and simply struck, reaching out to touch Eric’s arm but not quite making contact, like his depth perception is the tiniest bit off. He drops Eric’s old nickname so easily, so earnestly, that for a moment Eric thinks they might already know each other — but that’s impossible. Eric would remember someone so handsome, so very much his type.

“Only my friends call me ‘Bitty’.” Eric cautions, raising his half-empty champagne bottle in a mock toast and flashing his best ‘you’re coming home with me tonight’ smile. “But I’m more than happy to to get acquainted with you, Sugar.”

Eric isn’t usually this forward, this unrestrained. Tonight, it doesn’t matter, he’s celebrating: another championship, the end of a career, a life well lived. It’s to be expected. What isn’t expected is how the man’s relieved smile falters; as if Eric’s unbridled joy is somehow misplaced.

“Bitty? It’s me.”

“And ‘me’ is called . . . ?”

On very few occasions in Eric’s life has he been able to witness true devastation first-hand; and those instances were related to deaths, hockey losses, or blackout morning afters.

“Jack.” The man says softly, face slack with surprise. “It’s. . . Jack. Bitty, you know me.”

“If we’ve met before, I’m sorry,” Eric apologizes, hating to see the kid look so defeated. “I meet so many people — ”

Over Jack’s shoulder, Eric catches sight of Bob Zimmermann and waves, delighting in the way Bob’s face lights up when he catches sight of Eric, practically going supernova when he notices Jack as well, crossing the ice like a man possessed; Bob moves to pull them both into a hug but Eric’s new friend holds up a defensive hand and Bob stops mid-gesture.

It’s extremely apparent something is off, and between the reporters, the confetti, the champagne, and the fans, Eric is missing all of the context clues.

“Just won my last cup,” Eric singsongs, gesturing with the bottle between his mentor and the man Eric would very much like to fuck — who look very similar now that Eric can see them side by side. “Everyone’s super excited, right? Yeah? So, what’s going on. Did someone die?”

“No.” Bob says quickly, eyes flicking between Jack and Eric warily. “No. Not . . . that.”

“Severely injured?”

“. . . Non.”

“Okay, then, we should be celebrating!” Eric throws his arms wide and nearly clocks a passing teammate. “No more party pooping, Bobbert. Speaking, this is my new friend, Jack. Jack, Bob, Bob, Jack. Though, I’m getting the feeling you two might know each other. Or might be . . . related.” Eric gasps and smacks his free palm against his forehead. “Oh my god, the Tremblant retreat? Is that where I know you from? Listen, I was fucked up on pain meds that whole weekend, I am so sorry if we’ve already met.”

Despite Eric’s continued attempts at clarifying their shared mystery past, Jack keeps looking at Bob with that same wounded expression and it’s really killing Eric’s buzz.

“Bob.” Eric redirects. “Help me, here. Cutie’s nervous.”

“Eric, this is my, ah, well,” Bob’s smile is so forced, so tense, it looks more like a grimace. “Well, this is my son, Jack.”

There is only one ‘Jack’ Eric has ever known in relation to Bob Zimmermann, and he is not someone to be mentioned in polite conversation.

“Your son?” Eric echoes slowly. “Your son, Jack.”

Bob realizes what Eric’s tiptoeing around and casts a furtive glance toward the younger man, lifting two fingers to his cheek conspiratorially to imply ‘it’s a long story, not meant for public ears’. Eric knows how to play along.

“Wow, okay, did not expect that, but now that you’re saying it, I can one-hundred-percent tell. You have the same, well, everything.”

Eric takes Jack’s hand for an obligatory shake, not missing the way Jack’s features twist up into something caught between flattery and misery, before staring down his pseudo-mentor.

“My question is this, where have you’ve been hiding him — because how long have I know you, Bobby? Shame.”

“I’ve been . . . away.”

Jack’s tone is weighted with context Eric absolutely does not possess, but can definitely read into. Given the age difference and Alicia’s conspicuous lack of attendance this evening, Jack’s definitely a love child from some 90s Zimmergroupie. Or, original Jack didn’t actually OD and Bob spirited away his kid to keep away the prying eyes of the public; but that wouldn’t explain the age difference or the shared name.

Oh, Bobbert.

“Couldn’t wheel him out too soon,” Bob jokes, but Eric can tell the man’s heart isn’t in it, reinforcing Eric’s suspicion.

“Well, I’m happy you did,” Eric says graciously, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “He’s very handsome, when he isn’t doing this Eeyore impression.”

“Just like his father,” Bob says reflexively — defensively — as Jack goes pink. “Eric, will you excuse us for a moment? Back in five minutes, tops.”

Eric offers a gracious wave, gaze lingering on Jack’s retreating back — and backside, bless — watching Bob rest a firm hand on his son’s neck, gripping tightly to lean in and furiously whisper something. As Eric watches, Jack looks back over his shoulder; it’s not the fond glance of a potential paramour. Regret, maybe? Grief, definitely.

He must be as disappointed to be cock-blocked by his father as Eric is.

Across the ice, Kent Parson has rushed Jack, gathering him into a crushing embrace that the younger man returns easily — burying his face against Parson’s pads; pulling back only when Parson grabs Jack’s shoulders to push him away, taking a long look at him, holding his face between his hands briefly before pulling Jack back into his arms.

They don’t just look like old friends, it’s a reunion of desperation, like the videos his mother sends of soldiers coming home from war, but before Eric can think better of it, a teammate fists a hand in the collar of Eric’s sweater and pulls — away from Bob’s forlorn love child and forgotten first meetings — and the night goes on.

Bob doesn’t return. Neither does Jack.

Eric doesn’t even notice.

__________

#Part I #maybe?#zimbits #omgcp #angst #long fic #cup magic #ice magic #my stuff #my fic #NHL!Bitty

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entering-mymind · 4 years

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The Mandalorians - Season 2 Chapter 1

If you have not read my Season 1 of my Mandalorian fanfic I would highly recommend that first, would love to hear feedback! I do not own these characters, just having fun!

Season 1 Chapter 1 https://entering-mymind.tumblr.com/post/190778426753/the-mandalorians

Osa’s “Date of Existence” should have been special, celebrated until the night’s end, but instead other matters had to be addressed and questions would be finally answered.

Din entered the coordinates into the Crest while Osa navigated the route making sure their jump to lightspeed would have no interferences, plus she was always on the look out for any possible tails.

Osa gave the clear as the Crest made the jump heading to the planet Din believed he would never return to, let alone bring Osa back to; Tolarian.

Their journey didn’t take long and as they came out of hyperspace right directly in front of them was a large, grey planet that seemed dormant and vacant of all life. There was no operator coming over the Crest’s comms in order to guide them to a hanger. Actually there was no spaceport to harbor arriving ships because the planet had been owned by the Empire who kept the planet off astrological charts. Only certain scum and villainy knew about the planet and what it was truly meant for, Tolarian was used for something more as Din found that out years ago.

He let the Crest hover for a moment glaring back at Osa waiting for her approval. With a nervous breath Osa nodded her head giving her father the go ahead. Causally Din flew the ship to the approximate coordinates he could remember Anara giving him fifteen years prior, but the journey wasn’t smooth like before.

The atmosphere had gotten thicker, creating no clear visual with their decent while the ship’s consoles (which would guide them) began malfunctioning.

“My screen went black Papi,” Osa informed in a panic.

Din hoped he could somehow reboot the Crests system, but nothing seemed to be working because of so much interference, “Hold on, we’re flying in blind.”

Din kept his hands firmly on the wheel focusing with all his might when the child started making gibberish noises trying to get anyone’s attention. Osa realized her father needed full concentration so she picked the little one up when the two telepathically connected.

Instantly Osa understood what the child was trying to say, since he couldn’t convey words himself, as she became his voice. Like a shock to her system Osa could see what he saw and immediately yelled at her father, “Pull up, now!”

Never doubting her judgment Din complied and diverted from colliding into a mountain.

“Fly straight,” Osa instructed as the thick smog wasn’t clearing up the further they descended, “Veer to the left and make a hard dive downwards,” it was as if Osa could see where the Crest was heading, she just had to guide her father, “There,” she pointed when a dismal city was finally in view.

Memories from the past crept their way forward within Din’s mind but nothing appeared the same. Din put the Crest down just on the outskirts of what was left of the city. Buildings had been demolished, there was no sign of any life forms while an eerie sound of stillness filtered through the air.

Din attempted to get the controls working again but something was preventing the function. Giving up he powered down the Crest and instructed Osa to gear up. The three made their way to the lower deck where Din checked his weapons because a Mandalorian always anticipated a battle, when Osa strapped the child onto her back in the new harness she constructed.

Satisfied with all the artillery he was packing, Din lowered the platform but his daughter wasn’t by his side. He glared back seeing the stunned little girl he thought he helped break through. Without thought Din ran to her hoping she wasn’t about to have an episode but she was more frozen by terror.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Osa honestly said.

“You don’t have to, I can go and find out what I can,” he encouraged.

“I’m not living up to the Mandalorian title very well,” she said lowering her head.

“Osa, everyone embodies the role in their own way, there is no set path because you mold it on how it fits you,” Din declared, “Fear only exists if we allow it, but you have every right to be frightened. I tried to take those nightmares away, envelop you with compassion, but I can only do so much Osa, it is up to you to conquer those fears,” Din placed his hands on her shoulders when she peered up and the two glared at one another through their visors.

“Thank you Papi, you are my strength,” Osa said in honesty.

“And you are my everything, Mi Pequeno,” he replied grazing the side of her helmet with his thumb, “Ready to tackle this together?” Din held out his hand and without hesitation Osa took it.

“With you, we can achieve anything,” when the three made their way out of the Crest to uncover more then what they bargained for.

* * *

The air felt thick, while the grey fog kept visibility hindered. Din and Osa stayed close attempting to use their heat sensor setting within their helmet to help lead the way, but everything had gone cold on the planet.

“Where do we even start?” Osa questioned.

“At the building where you were given to me,” Din informed trying to remember his exact route from before but nothing was the same, “Can you sense anything?” Din looked to Osa for guidance.

“I’m trying not to,” she honestly said.

“Fair enough,” he ventured deep into his subconscious trying to resurface any familiar surroundings.

Din decided to head inwards hoping for anything to jump out at him when something finally did. The insignia of the Rebels was painted on a crumbled wall, if the Rebels were here then they would have focused on taking down the laboratory Osa had been kept in.

In hope Din followed the debris and low and behold he was back in the same alley he had waited down fifteen years ago, but it was more of an open walkway now due to the surrounding buildings being destroyed.

“Stay close,” Din said out of habit.

“Wasn’t planning on venturing off,” Osa stated with a shaky voice.

The hole Anara blew open seemed to have been repaired because new destruction carved itself into the bricks. They walked through the newly developed entrance and carefully walked over uneven terrain due to debris covering the actual surface.

Upon entry the room was dark, only the dim natural lighting filtered through the cracks of the structure, painting unique streaks on the cold surfaces. Din and Osa ventured further when suddenly Din heard a soft whimper come from his daughter. He turned and saw her hunched over, hands on her knees, concentrating not to give in. The child cooed in sorrow like it was experiencing his own nightmares.

“Hey,” Din rushed to them, “Look at me, hear me Mi Pequeno,” he hoped he was reaching her while he stroked the child’s quivering ear.

“I’m okay Papi, we’re okay, it’s just the way the energy given off from this place, how I can see past events play out in this very room,” she tried to explain.

“You don’t have to put yourself through this, you have nothing to prove,” Din reassured her, “I took you away before.”

“No, there are answers here,” Osa glared past her father and pointed, “There.”

They walked over to a circular console with a hologram viewer directly in the center so any viewer could have a gander.

“Let’s hope this still functions,” Din said noticing the partial destruction to the unit.

He began flicking and pushing buttons, performing the standard protocol with any computer unit, the tricky part would be how to navigate the system and hope it wasn’t encrypted or erased, but to his surprise there appeared to be no tampering with. It seemed everyone associated with this building just abandoned it when the Rebels arrived.

Unsure on where to start Din began opening any file and following the bread crumbs of clues, in the mits of his search he opened a folder when several images of all different species of children came up on the screen, but over the image (typed in bold red letters) was one word: Failed. A sudden wave of emotion inflicted Osa knowing these children’s outcomes.

“Why? Why did they have to die and I didn’t?” Osa questioned.

“Don’t do this, you are entitled to your life, you cannot have survivors guilt. I could be doing the exact same by the loss of members from our covert, instead we must honor the fallen, live on so then they live on as well. These children’s stories will be eternal because of your survival because of his survival,” Din pointed to the child, “You have every right to be alive Osa.”

All she could do was nod her head in agreement while staying quiet, memorizing her fellow captives faces. Quickly Din began searching in other files when he stumbled upon one titled “Priority” but had only vague information. A headshot came up of a green creature while a list displayed itself of speculated facts accompanied by video clips of the individual in action.

“Papi that looks like,” Osa started.

“I know,” Din replied looking at the child.

“But older, who is this Yoda?” Osa questioned when she began reading, out loud, the file’s contents, “Name: Yoda, could be a first or last name. Gender: Male. Status: Jedi Master. Is Jedi another term for the ancient sorcerers the older Mandalorians compared me to?” Osa asked her father.

“I assume so,” Din replied remembering the Armorer using this terminology.

“Species: Unknown. Ya da ya da ya da, ugh this information is useless,” Osa was becoming frustrated believing all of her answers would be awaiting her in a nice package, “Why is there hardly anything on this Yoda?” Osa clicked on some of the footage showcasing the Jedi Master’s skills with a lightsaber when the child became excited.

“Do you think the little one recognizes him?” Din questioned.

“No, he thinks that’s him on the screen, wait,” Osa pondered, “Could it be?”

“What?”

“This footage was taken during the Clone Wars, could he be Yoda?” Osa pointed to the child who seemed to be mesmerized by the green figure who looked just like him but older.

“How?” Din asked hoping his daughter would indulge him.

“Wasn’t that the whole reason of the Clone Wars, was for cloning, what if he is a clone of Yoda? We have been to all areas of the galaxy and this is the second time in my life where I have seen his kind. What if his species was going extinct, why lose that kind of power?”

“Or someone else wanted that power,” Din began searching through other files when one called “Yaddle” surfaced but there was nothing in the file except for the word “Deceased.” Din continued on when he came across one about life expectancy, “It seems this little one can live for a very long time, about 800 years give or take,” Din read, “And has the highest midichlorian count among any Jedi, but most important can live on through the Force.”

“The Force? What’s that?”

“I can only assume it is a reference for your abilities,” Din speculated when he clicked on another file showcasing a dozen children with Osa in the mix.

“Hey that’s me, where are you?” she asked.

“In a file called Midichlorian Infusion,” Din clicked on Osa’s image when her file appeared.

“Name: Test Subject 25. Parents: Donors – Anara Xcee (part Changeling) partnered with Silent D (warrior),” Osa stopped reading due to a small chuckle she heard escape from her father, “What’s so funny, that you were put down as a warrior?” Osa laughed to herself.

“No, the silent D, Anara always goofed with me when we were teenagers about my last name. She said ‘what is the purpose of the D being there if it isn’t going to get pronounced in Djarin?’ Hence forth she would call me silent D,” Din reminisced.

“Oh you crazy teenagers,” Osa loved making her father squeamish and he only displayed it when talking about her mother.

Din quickly went back to over looking his daughter’s file when nothing appeared to be helping.

“Inquisitorius Program, what do you think that meant?” Osa pointed out on her file for future occupation, but Din kept quiet only hearing rumors about a select group who were governed to Lord Vader, “We’re getting no where,” Osa complained when Din looked closer.

“Not entirely,” he hovered over Subject 25 infused by Test subject “Y.” Hesitant Din clicked and was brought to several videos and a very small file about the child. Osa’s focus was so intent she didn’t even see her father delete the footage.

“Hey, what are you doing there could be valuable information,” Osa shrieked hungry for any intel.

“No there wouldn’t be, those videos only showcase torture, something I can’t bare to witness because I saw the repercussions,” Din referred to the terrifying night Osa fell ill and if not for Wildaldro’s father Din would have lost Osa.

“Papi,” her voice almost broke when she placed her helmet on his pauldron.

“Alright let’s see what the Empire has on this little guy,” Din stated when Osa straightened and the child’s ears pricked up.

“Do you hear that clinging?” Osa asked half turning around when suddenly a wire lassoed around her body, constraining her and the child, and then finally whipping them backwards.

An escaped scream exited Osa’s mouth as she fought to get free while being dragged across the floor like an untamed beast. Din immediately pulled out his Vibroblade and ran after the two but got slowed down by blaster fire. His beskar armor held up with each blow, but Din was propelled backwards inching him farther and farther away from his children.

Trying to take matters into her own hands, Osa attempted to use her abilities and propel anything loose towards the perpetrator, but the assailant was one step ahead and sent a huge electro shock down the wire and into her and the child’s bodies. Immediate pain surged through their frames instantly knocking them unconscious.

Now that the captives became dead weight this gave Din an opportunity to make his move. Din wished he had his jetpack on so he could reach them easier when instead he ran full force towards the enemy who (to his surprise) was another Mandalorian, but one he was not familiar with nor whom was apart of his clan. Mandalorian or not Din would protect his kin with his life and leapt into battle.

The two were well matched as Din could tell his foe had been in plenty of fights before due to the wear on the green and white armor. Din would add more scraps to the enemies Beskar but had, somehow, become bested.

The assailant threw, what appeared to be an orb filled with a liquid, when Din dodged the item but it bounced off the ground, ricocheted and magnetized itself to Din’s thigh guard. Instantly the orb erupted releasing a deadly toxin when the acid ate straight through Din’s Beskar.

In fear of losing his leg, Din drastically attempted to unclasp his thigh guard but the straps had become soldered together, practically sealing his fate. Din could smell and feel the acid eat its way towards his skin as there was only one venom he knew of that could penetrate Beskar and it came from the Sarlacc, but the erosion would take days where this was happening in seconds.

Somehow this Mandalorian collected Sarlacc venom and advanced it. Din had to think quickly in order to save his appendage and his abducted children when suddenly a female Mandalorian, in blue and white armor, entered the scuffle. She hovered in midair by jetpack while sending blaster fire towards the rouge Mandalorian.

In haste he threw another Sarlacc bomb her way, but she seemed to be prepared and released a hand full of powder dissolving the hazards orb. Hearing Din’s flustered cries, she landed by Din and threw a hand full of the powder on his leg to seize the acids chemical reaction. She pulled out a small laser and burned through the singed straps releasing Din.

Once he had become freed, Din immediately detached the Beskar but upon removal ripped a huge hole in his pants exposing redden skin. Luckily he only suffered minor burns instead of losing his leg.

“Damn, he got away,” the woman exclaimed in anger, running towards the entrance Din and Osa used earlier, pointing her blaster ready to end the rouge Mandalorian’s life.

Without thought Din went to Osa and the child identifying their status of injury, “Mi Pequeno can you hear me?” Din cut through the wire, releasing them from the bond.

No immediate response, he lowered his helmet hearing his daughter’s breath while he rubbed his hand gently over the child’s head. In unison Din received a groggy groan from the both of them. A sigh of relief washed over him knowing they were alive.

“Who are you, friend or foe, who was the other Mandalorian, and why have I never seen either of you before?” Din questioned almost in anger.

“I could ask you the same questions except I am aware of who the imposter is. No one steals Mandalorian armor and wears it without being sworn in to a Creed,” she spat, “And which clan have you sworn your allegiance to?”

“Which clan? There is only one, Clan Saxon,” Din informed.

“So the rumors are true, huh and he still believes he is the leader of the Mandalorians,” she said with acid on her tongue.

“If you’re talking about Tiber Saxon his leadership was short lived. The clan was inherited by his kin,” Din stated.

“I presume Starling Saxon took control?”

“She did, but in the efforts of keeping us safe and hidden she lost her life as did so many others,” Din lowered his head out of respect.

“And now?”

“Hard to tell, the leadership was between Ivee Saxon and Paz Vizla, but since she donned the role of Armorer Ivee out ranked Paz.”

“I have searched across the entire galaxy hoping to find any remaining Mandalorians but none were ever found until now, until a bounty was placed on both your helmets,” she pulled her blaster.

“Hey we’re not the enemy,” Din spoke with his hands up in defense.

“No, then why did the Creed vanish? Mandalorians aren’t frightened children who hide from the enemy, we are fighters until our end,” she spoke in pride.

“Starling wanted the Creed to live on so we took to the sewers on Nevarro where she only allowed two above at a time. We would live in secrecy so our numbers could grow once again instead of being hunted down and being eradicated, but even she couldn’t prevent that,” Din said saddened remembering the pile of armor back at the covert.

“How many are even left?” her voice almost sounded shaky.

“Hard to tell, we have become scattered again.”

“And is this the reason why you both are out here, trying to escape from the bounty placed on both of your helmets?” she questioned.

“No, a scuffle broke out between the Guild and I, resulting in the bounty but has now been resolved,” Din informed.

“It’s not the Guild who placed the bounty, a new order issued it, someone under the command of Moff Gideon,” she corrected.

“So is this your true intentions on why you helped us, in order to obtain us and collect your reward?” Din slowly reached for his blaster ready to battle again.

“If I was looking for a quick score I wouldn’t turn in someone from my own Creed.”

“But you were willing to end that other Mandalorians life?”

“Do not declare him as a Mandalorian, Boba Fett brings dishonor to our heritage, he is not apart of the Creed and shall not wear our armor. One way or another I will end him.”

“Then what do you want with us?”

“It is time for the Mandalorians to come out of hiding, you will help me find my people as we will unite once again,” she commanded.

“Who are you?”

Din was shocked and surprised by the woman removing her helmet as she revealed soft angular features, yellow greenish eyes, and red hair, “My name is Bo Katan, rightful ruler of Mandalore.”

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sinfulbrothers · 4 years

Text

You got the letter I sent you a few weeks back.

I have to admit I didn't expect you wouldn't receive it, I had a demon drop it off to wherever the hell you were staying at.

I imagine it's a crappy motel with shitty TV stations, ones we used to stay at all the time when we were kids.

Remember when dad would get angry every-time he came back to the motel room and see we were up sleeping? Remember that?

He'll he'd probably still yell at us for being such fuck ups.

You can ignore my texts and calls as much as you want Dean.

But we both know you have to come home sometime.

I'm getting tired of this cat and mouse routine.

I hunt you down, you run off to god knows where and then I'm stuck trying to find you again.

But I have a feeling I won't be the cat for long.

-Sammy W.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Three more calls and four texts, he still hasn't picked up," The youngest winchester glanced over at the male across the table. Castiel sat there hands resting on the table looking over pictures from different traffic lights, cameras and whatever else he could find. "The son of a bitch thinks this is some sort of game. Anything, Cas?" He raised an eyebrow at the used to be Angel.

The male shook his head, "It is just the same old stuff, Sam. No clue of where Dean would be hiding out. The only person that knows where Dean is hiding would be Crowley. And he and I aren't on the best of terms.." He made quotations around the word 'terms' and 'best'. He still really wasn't the best at English. "Maybe we should wait until there is a police report on a Chevy Impala. On baby."

Sam shifted in his seat frowning, "Dean is smart enough to not get caught doing something illegal in baby. If there was a police report it would be at some bar or store. Like the gas station that was robbed." He slid his laptop over to the male, "Check out some things while I go on a run. There isn't much you need to know about computers." He smiled softly sliding his phone into his pocket, heading out to his '65 mustang, light blue. A beautiful car. He jumped in and he was off to the nearest store.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A familiar '65 mustang pulled into the Save-A-Lot parking lot, he couldn't help but smirk. Seeing his big bulky dork of a brother climb out of the drivers seat. It was a wonder how he fit his big moose ass in there. The car was shorter than Sam was tall. He snorted sitting back in the drivers seat of the impala, hands on the steering wheel. "Here Sammy Sammy Sammy." He whispered whistling, pushing the drivers seat door open he climbed out. Cracking his knuckles following up behind his brother. Wrapping an arm around Sam's neck yanking him to the ground with inhuman strength.

"De--" Was all the young winchester got out before the lights went out for him. Dean lugged the tall male over to the impala, throwing him in the back seat among the other beer bottles and trash.

——————————————-

"Wakey, wakey, Sammy."

"You wanted your big bro back, well you got 'em."

"Sam."

"Sammy."

"SAMANTHA."

Sam's eyes shot open, his ears ringing, what the hell? A frown plastered on his lips as he tried to sit up, a force was holding him down. He heard it again, "Sammy." That was Dean's voice, what the hell was going on? Wasn't he supposed to be at the shopping center? "Aww look Sammy is confused again. How cute. Let's cut to the chase," The eldest winchester spoke up, his voice rough like a rocky road. He came walking out of the corner of the motel room swinging a baseball bat. Twirling it and throwing it in the air, only to catch it again. "You," He pointed the bat at Sam, poking his nose with it lightly. Sam pushed it away giving his demon brother a face.

"Need to stop looking for you. Yeah I caught the jiff." Sam stood up brushing his brown hair back out of his face.

Crack.

Dean swung the bat, smacking Sam right in the shin. For a second Dean swore the bat had snapped, then he realized it was Sam's shin. "Sit down." He growled at his younger sibling. Sam obeyed. "Obey like the good dog you are. Isn't that right, Sammy?" He chuckled, gripping the baseball bat tight. "You either stop looking for me or I'll put you down right where you stand, got that? I won't hesitate to tear your pretty little head off with my teeth. Bet it'll taste real good. Have some actual freedom from all this hell around ya, Sammy." He winked at his brother.

"But Dea--"

Crack.

"Fuck! Stop hitting me with the damn bat!" Sam cursed loudly attempting to take the thing from Dean, it was a lousy attempt but at least he tried to do something. "I'll fucking stop looking for you. Just tell me one thing...why are you doing this? These crimes? The killings."

"The killings? Those are all angels. All 14 of 'em. Of course we aren't counting the humans, right?" Sam didn't even recognize his brother behind that wolffish grin. His gaze dropped to the floor shuddering in major discomfort. "Crowley sent a few demons to try to take me out. Not even the king can contain this beast." Sam opened his mouth to speak, "Ahh except..you have a body behind your little adventure. The man you made sell his soul so you could find me. Naughty naughty sammy. Put him through that and he still gets killed, just sooner. Oh by the way...tell angel wings I said hi."

Dean swung the bat hard.

"Fucking Hell that's gonna leave a nice bruise."

———————————-

He awoke to a dog sniffing at his jeans and clawing at his jacket, attempting to locate anything edible on him. Or maybe it was getting ready to eat his face off. It didn't need to happen either way. Sam shoved the creature to the side earning a Yelp/Whimper from the creature as it bolted down the alleyway and out into the streets. An on coming car stated, 'Stupid animals! Should all be killed!' Speeding by the creature. People had no respect for these animals, or much of anything in that matter. He pushed up sitting up against the wall, yanking his phone out of his pocket, "Cas? Yea. I need a ride back to the bunker. Think I'm by the barber shop and the tattoo parlor east of the grocery store. Yep..it was Dean. No he didn't say anything about you. He did break my shin. Just..get here as soon as you can." He sighed shutting the phone tossing it across the alley way.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••>

"They have towed your car away," Was the first thing the used-to-be-Angel said to the male, helping him up to the car. "You will have to get it another time we need to get back to the bunker. There is something you need to see. It's important." Cas walked around the other side of the car jumping in the drivers seat, starting up the piece of crap he began driving off in the direction of home. But it wasn't home for Sam. Not without his brother. His brother was his home and would always be.

"So what's this thing and why is it so important?" He raised an eyebrow staring Castiel down.

The Angel sighed gripping the wheel loosely as he leaned back getting comfortable, "It's Dean. He was by the bunker while you were out. This was after I was told to look up things on the inter webs. The bunker door flew open and before I knew it I was on the floor. He took something from your room but I cannot figure out what." He sighed heavily, frowning immensely, "I was thinking it was some books...or maybe the tracker you had put on him.."

"The only thing in my room was papers and books, he would've had to taken some books. If not then..pictures? That wouldn't make any sense." He shook his head staring out the window, wincing. "We'll figure it out later. Right now I need to get my leg fixed up. Can't do anything on a broken bone."

"Alright. I will get the supplies while you stay put." Cas climbed out helping Sam down into the bunker, making sure he stayed sitting down before wandering off to gather some supplies.

Sam fiddled with the loose pieces of paper on the table, sliding them over the edge watching them float down to the floor. Something he would do as a kid, watch paper float down to the floor. It didn't sound fun and it wasn't. Sam chuckled remembering when Dean got angry when Sam would cover the motel room in paper. The crinkling noise always annoyed the shit out of Dean. He slid another paper across the wooden surface, catching it right before it fell.

'I sure enjoy your love letters, Sam. But has anyone told you you're not my type? Tall and lengthy isn't my thing. By the time you read this I'm sure I already broke one of your legs. Told you to leave me alone and then you're back here planning something again. As usual. For every time I catch glimpse of you I'll kill someone. Child, adult, elderly. I'll kill them. This is a warning. One slip up and someone is going ten feet under. Oh..I left a bit of a surprise under your pillow. Hope you enjoy it. It seems you need a girlfriend if you catch my drift little brother.'

He really didn't even want to know what Dean had left him under his pillow, probably some sex toy. He shuddered quickly shoving the paper into his pocket. "Find everything okay?" When Castiel nodded he smiled softly, sliding his pants leg up, hoisting his injured leg up onto the table. "I was thinking, maybe we can take a break for a bit. Let Dean cool off before we try to find him again. He seemed pretty pissed off. Sure the mark is the cause of that but Dean sort of always has his panties in a bunch."

The Angel simply nodded, "Okay." After that the room remained silent.

—————————————————

He had the right plan, all he needed was for Sam to take the bait. Hell he wished he would've stuck with killing people, been more fun and the police would've been involved. Sure they were a pain in the ass but still. He found it funny as hell to watch Sam struggle to get around the cops when they got suspicious of him asking "too" many questions. Whatever the hell that meant.

Dean brushed a hand through his ever so growing hair, sitting back in the bar stool. Sam had just found the the toy his older brother had left him. "Get a girlfriend," Dean scowled taking a long gulp of beer, spinning in his chair and sliding off. He pushed by a few customers walking out, climbing into his "baby" he drove off.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••>

Fool me once

Shame on you

Fool me twice

You're probably dead

He was correct about Sam, the man really was trying to locate him again like the crazed idiot he was. Damn. Dean threw the impala door open walking over to his brother gripping his shoulder tight, a faint crack starting. "Whatcha doing Sammy? Looking for me again? Did you not get my letter? Man I know I'm not good with the whole pen pals thing.." He sighed heavily cracking Sam upside the head, sending him stumbling into the side of the tow truck building. Sam felt a hand wrap around his throat, then black eyes meeting his. "You won't stop until I'm back, guessing that means I have to kill ya."

Sam's vision darkened as the grip on his throat tightened, then everything went black.

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itsthejuggernautbitch · 6 years

Text

You Look Like Trouble (Morning Glory Wine) - Cable/OC

Here’s chapter three! I don’t want to be that person but if you’ve got the time and the inclination, kudos would be great.

Also, here’s a playlist if you’re into that kind of thing. I make them for all my fics. Listen along if you like because the chapter titles correspond to the song.

Taglist: @this-that-and-every-thing-else @ptite-shit @lesbianyondu @chromecutie @gallifreyangrandtorino @ra-ra-rasputiin @akihecko

Mondays suck. The to-do list for the day is always too long, there’s always stuff left over from the weekend, and then there’s the whole week ahead. That's when you've got to go to all of your appointments, deal with life in general. Mondays were just too much.

This Monday, though, was Vivian’s day off. There was work to be done, but not the kind of work where she had to go into the office and hold down small children or bother grown men about taking their medicine properly.

Today, Vivian got to see her kids.

Vivian was in the middle of getting dressed when her doorbell rang. She tumbled out into the hall, tugging her dress down over her head and hopping on one foot to put her shoes on. There was no chance of anything more than a relatively professional dress, ponytail, and a spirited attempt at makeup. She couldn’t remember the last time she made an effort to dress up, but at least the dress was business-y.

The doorbell rang again. When she opened the door, Wade stood on the other side, dressed in the Deadpool suit. Looks like someone else had business to take care of today.

Wade whistled when he saw her. “Look at you! I thought the white coat just came included with the special features! What are you up to today?”

“Parent-teacher conference for Shelly at the middle school today,” Vivian replied, scraping her hair up into a fussy ponytail.

“But I thought you couldn’t - ”

“The ex-husband cannot be in attendance and apparently it’s urgent, so I get to go handle it. Restraining order is against him, not my babies.”

Wade held onto her shoulder so that Vivian could balance long enough to get her other shoe on. “So this is the first time in how long?”

“About a year.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be a fun conference. Tell your kids to stop setting off stink bombs or eating Tide pods or whatever it is that kids do for fun these days.”

Vivian was pretty sure that kids didn’t actually do any of those things for fun.

She snorted. “I’m hoping I can take them out for dinner afterward.”

Wade hopped on the couch and stretched out, watching Vivian attempt to finish getting dressed in a timely fashion. “You know where you should go after dinner?”

“Not Sister Margaret’s. It’s my night off.”

He hummed. “I was thinking more about Xavier’s mansion.”

Vivian stopped long enough to stare at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, Colossus wants to talk to you!”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied. “Captain Boy Scout has been trying to sit me down and talk to me about being the school nurse for years. Besides, when did you start rolling out the welcome wagon for the X-Men?”

Wade huffed. “Gimme a break! It’s part of training!”

“What, recruitment?”

“If you come, I don’t have to wear the yellow crop top!”

“Good thing you look good in yellow, because I’m not setting foot in that place,” Vivian replied, grabbing her keys. “Now, let me get out of here, I don’t want to be late.”

Wade opened the door for her, slamming it behind them. “Have fun! Tell the babies that Uncle Wade says hi!”

“They don’t call you Uncle Wade!”

Vivian stood in the school lobby, arms crossed, tapping her foot. She’d been waiting for a solid thirty minutes for Jack to bring the kids, but neither Shelly nor Benji were anywhere in sight. She couldn’t just find the teacher’s room on her own and take care of the problem. She’d never been inside of the middle school, so she didn’t know the whereabouts of the teacher’s classroom.

“Mama!”

A tiny, high-pitched voice preceded the appearance of a tiny blonde girl, like the sound of a bird chirping. Shelly ran towards her, all hundred pounds of middle school girl barreling towards Vivian like a bullet. Benji jogged along behind her, wearing the same grimace that Vivian always gave to Wade when he was overly enthusiastic about something.

She caught Shelly in her arms and gave Benji one of those side-arm hugs teenage boys give when they think they’re too old to hug their moms.

Shelly didn’t stop long enough for greetings. She wouldn’t let go of Vivian’s hand as she pulled her down the hallway. “Lets go get this over with.”

“Hold on, honey, what’s your teacher’s name?”

“Mr. Johnson. He’s kind of a twerp.”

“Why’s he a twerp?”

Benji rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be telling her not to call people twerps?”

“Probably, but I’m your mom and you should be able to express your feelings in a safe, understanding environment. If your sister says the man’s a twerp, he’s a twerp, Benji,” Vivian said. “Why’s he a twerp, Shelly?”

“Well, he called this conference and I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”

“I don’t even know what happened, Shel Dorado. Your dad didn’t exactly clue me in on that.”

“Dad didn’t even read the letter that got sent home with me?”

“No, Dad just didn’t give me the letter to read. We’re not really allowed to talk, remember?”

“Oh, yeah… Well, I guess Mr. Johnson can tell you,” Shelly said, coming to halt. “This is his room.”

Vivian walked in, Shelly and Benji trailing behind her. The room was the same stringent, basic setup as every other middle school classroom in America, purposefully bland and devoid of hope or fun. Desks were arranged in clinical rows. The teacher’s desk was arranged carefully in the front corner with two chairs across from the teacher’s computer chair.

Benji sat at a desk on the front row while Shelly parked herself in one of the chairs next to the teacher’s desk.

Mr. Johnson stood up and shook Vivian’s hand. “I was under the impression that I would be dealing with Mr. Thorn. We’ve had correspondence about Shelly’s behavior before.”

Vivian sat down in the chair next to Shelly’s. “Well, Mr. Thorn is presently unavailable, as he had something he deemed more important to take care of today. You’ll be dealing with me instead, so why don’t you enlighten me as to Shelly’s behavior.”

The teacher sat down in his chair and scooted it in close to the desk.“She’s been picking a lot of fights lately. I’m just curious as to whether this relating to something that’s happening at home?”

“I wouldn’t know what happens at home, being that Mr. Thorn and I are divorced.”

Mr. Johnson shrugged. “It could be your absence in the home that’s causing this…”

“Well, Mr. Johnson, why don’t you explain to Mr. Thorn that my absence in my children’s life is negatively impacting them so that he’ll authorize visitation,” Vivian replied, liking the teacher less and less with every passing minute. “This, I assume, would only be possible in the event you or the nearest other available pig grows wings and takes flight.”

“Ms. Sharpe-”

“Dr. Sharpe.”

“Dr. Sharpe, I meant no disrespect to you. I wasn’t insinuating anything.”

Yeah, right.

Vivian didn’t have a lot of patience to begin with, but he was testing what little she had. “Why don’t we ask Shelly why she’s acting out? It may be that you’re not addressing her needs as a student. Shelly, what’s going on?”

Shelly looked like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world at that very moment. “Tom and John made it a game to pull every girls’ hair, snap bra straps, pull down our pants. I’ve been telling Mr. Johnson that for months.”

There is a special kind of fury only felt by mothers of girls, because mothers of girls know exactly what kind of pain they’re going through.

“Is this true, Mr. Johnson?”

“She’s the only student who’s complained about this…”

If she didn’t have to set a good example for her kids, Vivian would have definitely punched him by now. “So, what? The testimony of one little girl isn’t enough to make you address this situation?”

“That’s not what I was saying…”

“No, you’re saying that these little boys are touching Shelly and you’re not doing anything about it.”

“She punched Tom Wells in the face and broke his nose.”

“Good,” Vivian snapped. “She did something about it when you wouldn’t. The only thing you’re doing is teaching my child that she won’t be taken seriously.”

“Dr. Sharpe, I have reprimanded them.”

“You gave those boys a slap on the wrist, but you pulled me and both of my children away from our lives to have a conversation about my daughter defending herself?”

“That wasn’t the intention.”

“I know what your intention was, Mr. Johnson,” she said. “I’m a thirty-four year old woman with a medical doctorate. I know exactly what she’s going through and how you’re responding to it because I’ve been dealing with the same thing for thirty-four years myself.”

“Well, if you’re not going to have a conversation with me, Dr. Sharpe, perhaps you should leave.”

“Oh, I think this was a great conversation, Mr. Johnson. And don’t worry, I’ll be pulling her from your class.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Oh, I can’t? Watch me.” She motioned for Shelly and Benji to follow her. “Come on, guys.”

Vivian held open the door so that the kids could walk ahead of her. She slammed the door behind her and stalked down to the lobby to take care of this problem. When you found the business office door, she pulled open the door and looked for the administrative assistant.

She found Lucy, the administrative assistant, waiting for her in her office. “I need you to take care of something for me.”

Lucy looked up at her over the rim over her glasses. “Switch Shelly to a different class? Way ahead of you.”

“How’d you know?”

“I just needed consent from you or Jack to get her out of that class,” Lucy replied, already typing away at her keyboard. “It’s like the more she fights back, the bigger the target on her head.”

“Well, get her off the firing range. She’s got a target on her head because that teacher isn’t doing anything about it.”

Lucy nodded. “I’ll get it taken care of, Viv.”

“Thank you, Lucy. Can you send me updates on things?”

“I will.”

“Thanks again. I’ll see you later.”

Vivian left the office decidedly calmer than she expected to. She motioned for Shelly and Benji to follow her out. The kids followed Vivian out to her car.

Shelly grabbed Vivian’s hand and swung it as they walked. “Can you come to all the teacher conferences from now on?”

Vivian pulled Benji into a one-arm hug as she walked, despite the fact that he looked like he was going to die of embarrassment. “Of course I can. I didn’t even know all of this was going on or I would have been crawling his ass long before now.”

“Language, mom,” Benji said. She was vividly reminded of a smaller, less shiny Colossus as that moment.

“Sorry, honey.”

Vivian climbed into her car and waited for the two of them to climb in behind her. They both slid into the backseat, shoving each other for elbow space. She started the car, put it into gear, and sped off towards the exit.

“Hey, mama?” Benji asked. Vivian’s heart melted a little bit. She hadn’t heard Benji call her that in years . “Can you get me put in a different English class? She gives pop quizzes.”

“No, Benji. Pop quizzes are good for you,” Vivian replied, searching absently for the street she needed to turn onto. “What do you two want for dinner?”

“Pizza,” they said in unison.

Vivian sighed. “How many times have you had pizza this week?”

“Three.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have something healthier?”

“No.”

“What does your father feed you? Jeeze. Pizza it is, I guess.”

Vivian could see why Wade harassed her about getting sleep. If she slumped any lower in her chair she was going to hit the (very bloody) floor.

It was a slow Friday night, which was rare. Friday nights usually meant a steady flow of wounds to stitch up. Thank goodness she’d only had a couple of patients, though. There was no way she would have been able to deal with the Friday night load in her current state of overwhelming exhaustion. Of course, even though it was a slow night, she’d had two difficult patients. Both of them bled everywhere (as is the nature of stab wounds), which only exacerbated her exhaustion. She got both of them stable and stitched up, though.

The time was drawing close to two a.m. She was only sticking around so that she could pay Cable, whenever he decided to show up. Cable didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would skip out on a payment, so Vivian was a little worried that he might have forgotten his deadline, or worse - that he might have had some trouble with his mark.

The mark in this instance was the man Vivian bought all of her medical supplies from. He never stiffed her on numerical counts, but she had long suspected that he was buying the lowest quality items and pocketing the different. Distasteful, unethical - not technically illegal, but none of these practices - his or her own - were legal anyway, so she could do something about his poor business practices. She suspected that it was his doing that all of her supplies had been substituted out and replaced. She wasn’t exactly surprised that he did it - more annoyed than anything. That was fine. She had learned over the years that one must fight back in order to accomplish anything.

She knew how to fight all too well.

Really, she shouldn’t have been worried that Cable forgot his deadline, or failed to meet it. She realized that when the medical room door was thrown open, and in stepped Cable and the mark.

Cable dragged the guy in by his ear and shoved him towards Vivian. “Jimmy here’s got something to say to you, Dr. Sharpe.”

Vivian bit her lip to keep from snorting. She was pretty sure she’d never seen a grown man’s ear twisted like a bad schoolboy’s by another fully grown man. “What on Earth is going on here?”

Cable flicked the man’s ear. There was a little blood. “What do you say, asshole?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Sharpe!” Jimmy said, grimacing when Cable twisted his ear again. “I’m sorry I switched out your supplies!”

“What else did you want to tell her?”

Jimmy flinched, shying away from Cable as far as he could without running the risk of being flicked on the ear again. “I’ll get you what you paid for, no charge!”

“And?”

“And I’ll buy the placebos back!”

“ And? ”

“And I won’t do it again, I swear!”

Cable slapped him on the back of the head, pushing him towards her. “Now give her the money.”

Jimmy tossed Vivian a hefty roll of cash, which she caught easily. She didn’t bother to count it. Cable would have made sure it was the correct amount.

Cable grabbed Jimmy by the back of his shirt and pulled him towards the door. “Get out of here, and make sure I don’t have to come after you again.”

Jimmy scurried out of the bar, spurred on by bar patrons throwing beer bottles at him. They’d all heard that he’d stiffed their doctor (thanks to Weasel’s loose tongue), and they weren’t happy about it. Who else was going to remove their stitches without pulling and not charge them thousands of dollars like real hospitals do?

Vivian stuck her head out the door to watch him run off, chuckling when she caught sight of the wet spot on Jimmy’s jeans. To be fair, peeing himself was the appropriate response.

Vivian shut the door behind her. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a merc make a mark apologize to me.”

Cable shrugged. “Yeah, well, he was a scumbag. Needed to learn a little humility.”

Vivian couldn’t disagree with that. Most of the people she associated with were scumbags - some more so than others. And yet, some of them weren’t so bad.

Vivian supposed she should pay him for a job well done. She peeled off a section of the roll of cash. “This is what I owe you. Count behind me and make sure it’s right.”

He waved her off. “Keep it.”

What was it with Wade and his weird friends not letting her pay them?

Vivian sighed. “Between you and Wade, I swear… I’ll get a bad reputation if people keep doing work for me for free.”

“I didn’t do it for free,” Cable said, staring at her with those piercing eyes. “You stitched me up the other night. Damn good job, too. The scar’s not even that bad.”

Vivian shook her head. “Wade took care of your bill last week. Next excuse?”

He huffed. “Well, I just…”

Cable didn’t give her an answer, just shuffled from one foot to the other, looking just past her. Vivian suspected that Cable had several reasons for not taking payment from her. Maybe he had some kind of sense of loyalty for Wade, maybe he had some feeling of duty towards her. Damn mercenaries never could talk about their feelings. Whatever the reason, she knew she was going to have to bother him to take her money in the future.

Perhaps in her determination to read his emotions, Vivian stared Cable down too hard. Everything about him was just… entrancing. A little terrifying. Exhilarating. He caught her stare and didn’t look away.

Out of the corner of her eye, Vivian caught blood dripping from his ungloved hand.

“Give me your hand.”

Cable didn’t ask why, he just held out his hand (albeit warily). His knuckles were split and scraped, like he’d tried to swing on someone and hit a wall instead, probably done while dragging Jimmy into her medical room. Vivian took his hand between her own and did her best to look away from his face.

She held his hand for a full minute and let the cold energy emanating from her hands wrap around his. He jumped when his hand got cold, but didn’t pull away.

When she released his hand, he pulled away, hand completely healed. He inspected the fresh pink flesh covering his knuckles. “You’re a healer?”

“Only a little bit. It’s just a secondary ability.”

“Why don’t you use it more often? Seems like it would save some time instead of poking and stabbing all these people.”

“I’m kind of stretching to do it now, honestly. I have the ability to reject events - trees falling over, pianos falling out of windows. It doesn’t work with organic material, for the most part.”

“So how are you doing it now?”

Vivian shrugged. “I don't know. Sometimes it just works. Usually, I have to be pretty stressed, or… really need it to work.”

“Well, I know you’re pretty stressed…”

Ah. So that’s why he wouldn’t accept his payment. She hadn’t pegged Cable for a sentimental type, but that just added a new layer to his otherwise gruff and stoic facade. A shame; it made it that much harder for Vivian not to like him.

Vivian quirked an eyebrow. “Alright, what’s Wade told you?”

Cable grimaced. He must have realized that he’d hit a nerve. “Enough.”

“Explain.”

He explained in that sort of way that Vivian could only describe as infuriatingly stoic. She was beginning to think that this was his own special brand of macho. “Two jobs, two kids, and you never sleep.”

“That it?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

So Wade must have left it at that. Very few people were privy to the full situation. He might have loose lips sometimes, but Wade was unfailingly loyal.

Good boy, Wade.

“And that’s why you won’t let me pay you.”

Cable looked like a man who’d been cornered. Which, he had been. “I didn’t really have to do much. Not like ol’ Jimmy was was hard to bring in or anything. You’ve got other things to worry about that paying me for that.”

Vivian was accustomed to fighting for every good thing in her life. Perhaps she was finally being given something good for once.

“You have a good heart for a mercenary,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “Wade keeps good friends.”

He gave her the tiniest of smiles - so small that she would have missed it had she not been physically unable to look away from his face. “If you need me to do anything else…”

“You’re first on the list, Cable. Thank you.”

Vivian had met Cable three times now, and in those three times, she’d figured out pretty quickly that she was going to have a tough time keeping her head on straight where he was concerned. She’d been denying herself the prospect of dating or even feeling for so long; denying the desire for emotional or physical care. She had an undeniable attraction to Cable; he was gruff, stoic, intense . It wouldn’t be so bad if he was attracted to her, too…

Vivian had never made a single decision that wasn’t calculated and planned down to the minute. She’d learned the hard way that missteps could be fatal, and she couldn’t afford to lose anything else.

And yet, as Cable turned to leave, Vivian made one of the most impulsive decisions she’d ever made in her entire life.

Vivian called his name and stopped him. “Can I buy you a beer?”

“No…”

Vivian couldn’t pretend that didn’t sting a little bit.

“… but you can let me buy you one.”

He grinned. Not the tiny half-grin from a minute ago, but a real smile. And just like that, Vivian knew she wouldn’t be able to guard her heart from this one, not if he wanted it.

#cable #MCU!cable #cable headcanons #cable x reader #cable imagines #deadpool headcanons #deadpool imagines #deadpool #mcu!deadpool

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5hfanfiction · 6 years

Text

Love Will Remember

Chapter 35: Love Would Always Remember, I Promise

“I fell in love with you, because you loved me when I couldn’t even begin to love myself.” Those words echoed through Lauren’s mind like a plague. It was one of the last things Camila told Lauren before the accident. They were sat; eating at the restaurant on their date when the brunette grasped her hand, looked into her eyes and spilled her heart’s contents.

The memory of Camila still felt like home to her. So whenever her mind wandered, it always found it’s way back to her. You know what they say, ‘home is where the heart is.’ And Lauren’s heart was and will always be with the brown haired Latina.

It’s painful, to love someone from afar. Not necessarily in the aspect of them still being around you. But being somewhere out there without knowing if they were okay, if they missed you, if they still loved you.

The once familiar elements of Camila and Lauren’s life together were now reduced to soul wrenching mentions in conversations, or the occasional glance at photographs with her in it. She only existed to Lauren now, as something that could still hurt her, even without having actual contact with her; no matter how long.

Just the mention of her name, was enough to send Lauren on a downward spiral, and to cause the memories to rush back in. It was nothing but a heartbreak.

Lauren missed the feeling of connection, knowing that Camila was somewhere out there; whether at work or out with her friends, thinking about her at the same time she was thinking about her.

That’s the thing about love, it’s like a candle. Even until it burns your hand and when the light has long since gone, you will still be there in the darkness holding what remains, as the wax falls onto your skin.

Simply because you cannot let the person go.

As Lauren brought the cigarette to her lips, she took a pull of it and let the nicotine enter her lungs, then she breathed out into the morning’s air as she stood leaning over the balcony over looking the city. She sighed heavily and ran her fingers through her dyed black hair.

Smoking was never something she did, until now. Until the day she left. She needed to get something to help calm the nerves but it never did.

The last time Lauren felt alive, was looking into her brown eyes. Breathing her hair, feeling her lips against hers, touching her skin. Then, she said goodbye. The last time she was alive, she was dying.

Though the words, would never find her, Lauren hoped Camila knew that she was thinking of her and wishing her nothing but happiness…and love.

Even if she wasn’t the one Camila wanted anymore. She still deserved happiness, even if it wasn’t with her.

Lauren put the cigarette out and headed back inside to get ready for another day at work. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was exactly 5:30. She picked up the velvet ring box and opened it slowly. Looking at the plain silver band, it was a commitment ring she had bought three years ago to give Camila for their anniversary but of course, she never had the opportunity to give it to her.

“It’s difficult for me to imagine the rest of my life without you,” Lauren muttered to herself as she pulled the ring out of the box and ran her thumb finger over it. “But I suppose I don’t have to imagine it. I just have to live it. No matter how hard it is, and how badly you ruined me.”

Placing the ring back in the box, Lauren slipped it into her bedside drawer. She wasn’t ready to get rid of it just yet. She may have admitted it out loud to Normani that she had to move on, but it was easier said than done.

***

“Do you want me to wait for you ma'am?” The green eyed CEO’s driver asked as he held the door open for her to get out.

She nodded. “I just have to pick up a few things. I’d be back no longer than thirty minutes. Stay in the area. I’d call you when I’m finished,” he nodded curtly and shut the door, then headed back to the driver’s side to find a parking spot.

Lauren ran her fingers through her tousled hair, turned and walked into the direction of the mall. Though, she wasn’t going to do anything big for her birthday, she still was going to treat herself with a classy outfit and a new piece of jewellery.

Upon entering the mall, it was extremely crowded. Well it was always crowded and maybe that was one of the many reasons why she refused to go there. She sighed heavily as she tried to avoid bumping into people. Lauren quickly headed in the direction of the store she usually shopped at and picked out an outfit after multiple tries.

She was a perfectionist. There was no doubt about it.

“Will that be all, Miss Jauregui?” the woman behind the desk asked as she typed in the price of the dress on the computer screen. Lauren nodded. “Okay. That’d be $975.00,” the cashier took the card and swiped it. “Have a good day, Miss Jauregui.”

The woman nodded, “You too, Susan.”

***

Lauren eventually got everything she came for, and was headed towards the exit. Her attention was focused solely on her what was going on in the world of her iPhone, that she didn’t see someone walking in her direction.

It was only when she ended up on the floor, she realised that she should’ve been paying attention to what was going on around her.

“Shit,” Lauren grimaced as she tried to collect her belongings that were scattered on the floor.

The person she had bumped into, dropped an envelope on the floor before walking away quickly.

“Stupid ass people can’t watch where they’re going,” the green eyed woman muttered as she stood up slowly. She had only noticed the envelope that laid near her feet, when she glanced down. She picked it up and upon examining the envelope, she knew it was for her. “Fuck.”

There was a tap on her shoulder that startled the woman, “Hey, Laur. What are you doing here?”

It was Normani.

The woman was clad in a simple black t-shirt and black skinny jeans that complimented her figure nicely. She had a small smile in her face. It had been a few days since both women had seen each other; Lauren had been avoiding the girls since her dispute with Dinah. She wasn’t sure how they would’ve reacted to how she had treated their friend.

Lauren slipped the letter into one of her bags before addressing Normani. “I um…I’m doing some birthday shopping. What about you? It’s been a few days…” The woman said awkwardly as she refused to make eye contact with her older friend.

“Do you want to grab a cup of coffee with me? It’s my day off today, so I’ve been just hanging around,” she smiled as she watched her friend’s awkward behaviour. “Lauren?”

She snapped her head towards the woman, “Yeah? Listen - I can’t…”

“Dinah isn’t mad at you, you know. And neither are we,” the CEO sighed heavily. “It’s just…we’re just worried about you. You seem so out of it these days. What’s going on with you?” Normani reached out to stroke her friend’s arm.

“It’s hard to explain…” Lauren sighed. “I just…I just need some time. I have to go, but can you um…I know it doesn’t count, but can you tell Dinah that I’m sorry? And I didn’t mean to be a bitch and ignore her feelings.”

“I will. But you’ll have to talk to her soon, Laur,” the green eyed woman nodded and left without another word.

***

Dearest Lauren, What was it like? You know, falling in love with your best friend? Rolling over in your bed and seeing her lying there, looking like a goddess? What was it like kissing her and not wanting it to stop? The feeling of her lips against yours? The feeling of her body against yours? But most importantly Lauren, what was it like falling in love over and over again, with the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with? This is the last of the letters, Lauren. Maybe you’ll get your happy ever after today or maybe you wouldn’t want it anymore. But first, December 18th. Three years ago. It was when everything took turn for the worse. But it was also, one year with her. Do you remember it?

Sincerely, Back to December"

Lauren reread the letter five times, until she couldn’t anymore. What did the person mean that she’ll get her happy ever after today? Her mind automatically went to Camila, hoping that she’ll see her somehow, but she knew that she’ll be giving herself false hope.

Because the woman wouldn’t be coming back.

Would she?

*Flashback*

“Ugh. Lauren. Stop!” Camila tried shoving Lauren away from her.

The green eyed girl shook her head 'no’. “Not until you tell me I’m pretty,” she smiled.

The brunette laughed and sighed in defeat. “Fine. Fine. You’re pretty,” Lauren’s lips curved upwards. “…pretty annoying.”

The older Cuban threw her head back laughing. “Ouch, Camz. You cut me deep. Really deep.”

Camila moved in a bit closer to her girlfriend, their lips barely touching. “Mm. I would also like you deep in me,” Lauren smirked. “But! We have things to do.” She hopped off the bed and went rummaging through their shared closet.

“Ugh, Camz,” she whined. “Why you gotta turn me on and then not help me out here? Our other plans can wait.” Camila smirked with her back towards her girlfriend.

Lauren walked up behind her girlfriend and spun her around. Words weren’t exchanged. She grabbed the girl and pinned her up against the wall of her bedroom, whilst her hands roamed the younger girl’s body, pawing off her clothing and tossing them messily across the bedroom floor. Her mouth was pressed against Camila’s as she swallowed her throaty moans.

The brunette may have been teasing before, but as her hands worked clumsily against her girlfriend’s pants, their plans could definitely wait.

“I’m going to make love to you until you see stars,” Lauren whispered in Camila’s ears once the brunette was able to rid her of her pants.

Looking down, Camila’s eyes widened at the sight of her girlfriend’s cock standing up and jutting forward with arousal. It always made her somewhat proud to know that she had that sort of reaction on Lauren.

Camila brought her hands up to the sides of Lauren’s neck, pulling her in for another kiss. Their tongues danced together in a slow and steady rhythm, as they moaned into each other’s mouths.

Ripples of excitement pulsed through Camila’s body. “Touch me,” she gasped when she couldn’t take it anymore.

Lauren gripped her by the thighs and Camila wrapped her legs around her waist, as she slowly walked them over to the bed, their lips never leaving each other’s. She threw Camila down onto the bed and ogled her naked body for a minute, before connecting their lips again.

“I love you so much, amor,” the raven haired girl whispered before willing giving herself to Camila.

(AN Y'all thought there was gonna be smut 😏 I’m sorry I’m awkward and I can’t write that lol)

***

“Okay, so remind me where you two are off to again,” Dinah asked as she was shovelling down a slice of pizza into her mouth.

Rolling her eyes, Camila grabbed the slice out of her friend’s hand. “I’m not repeating myself after this, CheeChee. We’re heading to Le Fleur and then we’re probably going to come back here and watch a movie together.”

Dinah smirked. “Watch a movie, my ass. Y'all gonna do the nasty. Don’t think I didn’t hear all that commotion this morning.” Camila blushed furiously. “Oh yes, Lauren. Faster. Mmm.”

The brunette covered her friend’s mouth to save herself from the embarrassment. “Okay, thank you for that, Dinah. But please never repeat that again.”

“When you’re getting married and I’m the matron of honour, I’ll tell your sex stories and embarrass you both,” the Polynesian chuckled. “But on a serious note, Chancho. I’m happy for the both of you. I can’t believe it’s been a year.”

Camila smiled. “I can’t believe it’s been a year either, Cheech. She makes me so happy. You have no idea.”

“I do,” the younger of the two shook her head smiling. “I couldn’t be happier that my yacht has left the docks and is still sailing. Ain’t nothing gonna sink this ship.”

Over the year of being together, Camila could’ve safely said it had been the best year of her life. Meeting Lauren wasn’t something the brunette expected to have happened in her lifetime, because all she knew was pain, but when she met her, and fell in love with her, she saw the world in a whole new light. She wanted to experience everything with Lauren.

It was only a year, but it was the beginning of their forever.

“Hey beautiful,” Lauren greeted her girlfriend with a kiss on the lips. “Hey loser,” she greeted Dinah who scoffed loudly and snatched her slice of pizza from Camila’s hand.

“Are you ready to go?” The brunette asked as she laced her fingers with Lauren’s. “You look beautiful.”

The green eyed girl blushed. Even though it had been a year, the couple weren’t used to all the compliments and stolen glances. Every time the other said 'I love you,’ it felt like the first time.

After bidding Dinah and the other two girls who were now returning home as they were leaving, they went on their way to celebrate their one year of being together.

***

The couple were now seated at their respective table. It took a few months to get the reservation. Some might say Lauren knew they would’ve lasted this long, and they did. The restaurant was posh; even though Camila may have been to these types of places with her girlfriend over the year of being together, it wasn’t something she was used to. She would’ve rather been home but she decided to go ahead with it because Lauren had put so much work into planning this date.

“Laur?”

The green eyed girl looked up from the menu. “Yes?”

Camila pulled something out of her jacket. “I got you something. I know it’s not much, but when I saw it, I thought of you.”

It was a silver bracelet that had the words 'Love Will Remember’ engraved on it, with their initials in a heart.

Lauren’s eyes opened wide in shock. She hadn’t been expecting a gift, well she knew her girlfriend would’ve gotten her something. She usually did, but this was by far the most beautiful thing she had ever gotten from her.

“Camz…” Lauren breathed out after staring at it. “It’s beautiful.” The brunette smiled. “But my gift…it’s back home.

The younger Cuban shrugged and placed the bracelet on her girlfriend’s hand. "There. Now everyone can know you’re taken,” she giggled. “Well that’s if they look at your wrist because they’ll be too lost in your eyes.”

“Oh shit. That was smooth as fuck, amor,” Lauren laughed. She intertwined their hands together and brought it to her lips. “I love you so much, Amor. Words can’t even begin to describe the feeling that you give me. The way my heart speeds up with the mere thought of you. You are, and will always be my sweet serendipity.”

They stared lovingly at one another. Camila knew she didn’t have to say anything because her girlfriend knew just how crazy in love she was with her.

The waiter came and took their orders. Everything was written in French and they had hoped whatever they ordered wouldn’t be too weird for their taste buds.

He returned shortly after with their food and a bottle of Chateau Margaux 2009 Balthazar.

“Bon Appétit Mademoiselles,” the waiter did a curt nod before walking off.

Camila stared at the food quizzically. “What even is this?”

The other girl laughed. “I don’t know. Try it.”

“But it looks…weird. Is it snails? Escargot is snail right? Oh my god, Lauren I’m not eating this.” Camila whined. Her girlfriend shrugged and took one into her mouth. “How are you eating that?”

“Uhh..with my mouth? The teeth I grew myself comes in handy.”

The brunette cringed. “Oh my god, pour me a glass or five of that wine. I’m dating a weirdo.”

Lauren laughed as she poured them both a glass of the wine. “I prefer the term food enthusiast. It’s not that bad, babe. Give it a try.” She brought the fork to Camila’s mouth, but she snapped it shut.

“Lauren. Don’t. You. Dare. I rather starve,” Camila huffed and moved out of the reach of her girlfriend’s fork.

The green eyed girl shook her head and laughed. “Do you want to go somewhere else? Or order something else? I’m pretty sure there’s something decent on here,” she suggested.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not hungry anyway,” Camila shrugged. “I’m okay just being here with you.” She smiled genuinely. “Did you ever think we would’ve been here?”

“Honestly? No I didn’t. But looking back at it now, I’m so extremely happy that it did. I got to see you grow into the amazing woman that I’m in love with. You’re more confident…happy and I can see for myself that you see the world in a different light.”

Comparing Camila to the girl she was back then, this entire year, she made such a drastic change. Being with Lauren helped her through a lot. The girl loved her when she couldn’t even fathom loving herself. She helped her through so much. If that isn’t love, then what is?

“You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, rehashing the same stupid arguments with. The one I want to wake up to every morning. You’re the one I want to love until my dying breath,” Camila took a sip of her wine. “You’re the one I would always want, Lauren. I love you. I fell in love with you, because you loved me when I couldn’t even begin to love myself.”

After finishing her meal, Lauren ordered some dessert for them, Camila was skeptical, but after realising it was just chocolate cake, she dug in with no hesitation. When they were finished with dinner, they piled into their vehicle.

***

It was nearing Christmas; the roads were glossed over with snow and the trees were covered in it. The girls would be lying if they said it wasn’t their favourite holiday.

They had planned to go spend the holidays with Lauren’s relatives in Miami whist the other girls visited their family. Camila glanced at her girlfriend, who was driving. She couldn’t help but smile at the girl who she could call her girlfriend. Lauren’s eyes were locked onto the road as she was driving.

“Camz, you’re staring,” Lauren said and she reached across to grab her girlfriend’s hand and brought it to her lips.

“And what’s your point? You’re beautiful. How can I not stare?" Lauren blushed and turned to look at her.

"Don’t be cheesy with me, Cabello. You know that’s my thing."

Camila laughed and they fell back into a comfortable silence.

"Lauren?"

"Mhm?"

They pulled up to a stop sign and Lauren looked at Camila.

"I know I said it before, but I can’t possibly thank you enough for everything that you’ve done for me. You’re my lifesaver, Laur. I don’t know what I would’ve ever done if I didn’t have you by my side,” the brown eyed girl said whilst holding the other girl’s hands.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, babe. I chose to do it and if I could go back in time, I’d do it all over again. I love you, Camz. I love you so much."

Lauren lightly stroked Camila’s cheek and pulled her in for a kiss.

"I love you too, Laur. Never forget that."

"I could never. You own my heart. Even if my mind forgets, my heart won’t.” Lauren said and kissed her girlfriend again.

“Promise?” asked Camila as she held her pinky finger out for Lauren to interlock their fingers together.

“Promise,” the older girl brought their fingers to her lips and kissed it before driving off.

Camila switched on the radio and their song, “Love will remember” by Selena Gomez started playing.

“Oh my gosh, Lauren! Our song!” Camila exclaimed and started belting out the lyrics to the song with Lauren watching her and smiling.

“I definitely got lucky,” Lauren thought to her-self. The way Camila’s soothing voice filled the car made her feel the butterflies she got ever since she realized she started falling for the girl. They both joined in the song.

“Love will remember you, And love will remember me, I know it inside my heart, Forever will forever be ours, Even if we try to forget, Love will remember."

Nearing their home, all was going well, it was just another night but it was special to both girls. It symbolized the end of a year together and a start of a new one. When the song was over, both girls fell into a comfortable silence.

Camila leaned her head against the window and sighed. She was content with her life. Never in a million years would she have thought that things would be the way they are now. She had three amazing friends who cared for her, a girlfriend who she loved dearly and who loved her back with every fibre of her being. What more could anyone could have ever asked for?

She closed her eyes and started to drift off. Camila was jolted awake when she heard the screeching of tires. She tried to comprehend what was going on but before she knew it, Lauren yelled out "CAMILA!”

A car was going to plow into them but luckily, Lauren managed to dodge it; however their vehicle was skidding on the ice, Lauren trying her best to maneuver the car but seemingly failing.

Eventually the car stopped and Lauren glanced over at Camila; she was about to ask if she were okay but she was cut short when a four ton pickup truck collided into the back of them causing the car to crash into a lamp post.

Camila was thrust forward and hit her head on dashboard, her arm that she used to brace the impact was twisted in a way it shouldn’t have been. She was knocked unconscious.

Blood started pooling around her head. However, the lamppost which their vehicle hit came crashing down onto the driver’s side of the car; crushing Lauren in the process. She groaned in pain. The only noise she was able to let out.

Then, everything went black.

*End of Flashback*

Lauren blinked back tears. Since the accident, she never looked back upon it. She didn’t want to remember. She didn’t want to remember what ruined the only good thing in her life.

The tears were coming in waves and she couldn’t stop. Violent sobs shook her body, as she sat in her car.

Why did Camila have to leave her?

Why did she have to forget her?

Why wasn’t she good enough for Camila?

She didn’t know the answers to any of these questions. She wanted to so badly, but she was afraid of the answers. She was afraid to hear that Camila didn’t love her anymore, that she gave up on her because the feelings she had wasn’t for the 'new Lauren’ at the time. But, she didn’t know what to think. Because she wasn’t Camila.

Through her sobbing, she heard her phone go off, signalling that she had received a text message. Blinking back her tears, she checked her phone.

Unknown Number: Come to the old apartment. Everything will be made right there.

-Back To December

Lauren reread the text message twice. Was this true? Would she finally find out why this person was doing this?

Without a second thought, she directed her driver on where to go. Gazing straight ahead, Lauren was only half aware of the world around her. She didn’t care to be aware of anything. All she knew, was that the answers to everything would be at the old apartment complex she once stayed at.

The complex came into view a bit too quickly for Lauren’s liking. As her driver switched off the engine, she didn’t wait for him to open her door. She got out of her vehicle quickly; her palms grew sweaty, her heart began hammering wildly against her chest. She didn’t know what to expect.

The moment she stepped into the building, the doorman directed her where she had to go. She didn’t ask any questions, for once she just accepted it. As she stopped in front of the familiar door, she grazed her finger along it. So many memories were made here. So many times she wanted to return, but she couldn’t bear to be in the same place she and Camila once shared.

Lauren’s breathing became rapid and shallow as she placed her hand on the doorknob. Her pulse could’ve been felt pounding in her temples. It was a relief, in a sense, but she didn’t know if she could’ve handled it.

But the moment she turned the doorknob, opened the door slowly; and her eyes locked with hers, that’s when she felt her heart stopped.

She stopped in the doorway. The familiar face, staring back at her, with tears glistening her eyes, Lauren didn’t know how to react.

Was this real?

Was she real?

Did she did on her way up to the apartment?

“Camz…” she breathed out. That’s when the brunette’s tears started flowing freely.

It had been three years since they last saw each other.

“Lauren…” Camila’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Lauren…” she repeated. Her heart had stopped beating when they locked eyes. The woman had looked so different from what she remembered. She was no longer the girl in the wheelchair. She looked tired, but she looked beautiful.

Lauren walked up to her slowly, still not believing her eyes. It had to be fake right? When she was a few inches away from Camila, she reached out a shaky hand; and gently stroked her cheek.

The younger woman’s eyes shut and relished in being touched by her former lover. “Camz…it’s really you.” She whispered out, choking on her sobs. “Oh god, I missed you.” She couldn’t take it anymore, Lauren pulled her into her arms, she just needed to feel Camila close to her.

“I missed you too, Laur. I’m sorry,” Camila whispered. “I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

Lauren didn’t say anything, she kept holding onto Camila, as though if she let go, the woman would’ve slipped through her fingers. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Camila was back, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

After a few more moments, they pulled away from the hug, and looked into each other’s eyes. Their moment was broken when they heard noise coming from inside the apartment.

“Is someone else here?” Lauren asked as she looked around.

Camila visibly gulped. “Laur..I uh. I need to explain something to you first.”

The older woman furrowed her eyebrows and before she even had the chance to respond, her four friends entered the room along with two other strangers. Not necessarily strangers, as Lauren had seen them before.

“You…what…what’s going on here?” She looked at her friends who were smiling sheepishly at her then back at Camila. “Camz..what’s going on?”

Dinah opened her mouth to speak but Normani shook her head 'no’.

“Lauren, we can explain. The letters…it was us. We had the help of Maggie and Ariana,” Normani pointed to the unnamed faces.

Realisation had finally hit Lauren. “You mean to tell me, you guys knew Camila was alive and didn’t tell me!” She shouted. “You knew where she was and didn’t think it would’ve been a lot easier to tell me than to send me down memory lane?!”

Mendes started to approach her best friend but Lauren put a hand up to stop her. “Lauren, please just hear us out. It’s not that we wanted to hurt you.”

The green eyed woman scoffed loudly. “You didn’t want to hurt me? Oh really?” She turned her gaze towards Ally who cowered behind Mendes. “You, Ally! How could you? It wasn’t even a week ago, you came to my apartment and told me I could tell you anything! And you played this bullshit on me!”

Camila grabbed Lauren’s arm, but the woman pulled away. “Did you know about this too? You did, didn’t you?!”

“Lauren..calm down,” Camila said calmly, but the woman shook her head. “Let them explain. I didn’t know about this until today.”

“No! All of you, all of you were fucking with me. You didn’t even care about me, did you Camila? Were my feelings some sort of sick joke?”

Lauren didn’t wait for an answer. She turned on her heels and headed for the door ignoring the shouts rom her friends.

“Lauren, please,” Camila begged. “My feelings for you were real. They are real.” The woman didn’t listen.

Before exiting, she looked over her shoulder. “Love did remember, Camila. You would’ve known if you stuck around.”

And without another word, Lauren slammed the door shut, leaving all the women shocked at what had just happened.

*** Wattpad: Commander_Camren

#UPDATE #series #g!p #camren #angst drama #romance fluff #submission #Love Will Remember

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