#breaks her out of the hospital to go to the seaside for a bit & he gets to see the unabashed /adoration/ she has for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asweetprologue · 4 years

Link

Geralt decides to retire to Toussaint. He takes Jaskier with him.

Words: 4360, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Witcher

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Retirement, Getting Together, Domestic, Fluff

I promise I’m still writing stuff!! this is a soft little one shot I wrote a while ago and just cleaned up. read on tumblr below the cut!

In the end, it’s the weariness that does him in.

Once when they were both younger men, Jaskier had asked him about retirement for witchers. If they retreated to Kaer Morhen in their old age to train the new pups, or if they settled down across the Continent, or gave up the hunt to have families of their own. Geralt had snorted. “We don’t retire,” he’d said, mixing potion ingredients by the light of their camp fire. Jaskier had looked at him with wide, curious eyes. “We get old, and slow, and something kills us. We don’t - buy seaside cottages, or whatever.”

Jaskier had hummed at that, a mournful note that seemed to resonate in the air. It was unfair, Geralt had thought, that his friend managed to convey so much in such a sound while the witcher always managed to say so little. “Seems a bit unfair,” Jaskier added.

Geralt had blown out an amused breath, not quite a laugh. “That’s life, bard.”

But now, three decades and countless battles older, he just felt tired. Jaskier no longer traveled with him as frequently, and the Path was a lonely place. He and his brothers no longer met at Kaer Morhen to winter, not once Vesemir had passed. They would stop occasionally to meet up on the road, but never for too long. Even Ciri was going her own way nowadays, though he saw her the most frequently. As the years wore on, Geralt found himself visiting Oxenfurt more and more often. Itching for companionship, for a cease in the ever grinding motion of the Path. The routine that had once been a comfort was now grating.

Maybe it was time to take a break.

It was with this mentality that he turned to Jaskier on the last day of his stay in Oxenfurt and said, “Come to Toussaint with me.”

Jaskier blinked at him owlishly, the expression making him look ten years younger. These days his hair was streaked with gray at the temples, and when he chose to grow out a beard it was as silver as Geralt’s. “What’s so important in Toussaint?” he asked. They were seated at a table in the rooms Jaskier had been provided, for accepting a temporary lecturing position. The term had ended a few weeks ago, hence Geralt’s visit. Jaskier shuffled his gwent deck as he spoke, the cards weaving together like a cascade. Geralt found himself watching the bard’s slim fingers dance through the motions with an old fascination.

“I have an estate there,” he replied, pulling his gaze from the cards. He meant to look Jaskier in the eye, but a brief moment of contact with the bright cerulean had him turning his head, his heartbeat growing ever so slightly faster. It was too hard to ask this if he could see Jaskier’s face. Instead, he looked out the small window, overlooking the red tiled roofs of Oxenfurt. The city was painted a rich gold in the light of the evening sun, reflected warmly off of the river beyond the docks.

Jaskier spluttered across the table. “You have an estate? Since when?”

Geralt felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. “It was payment for a job,” he said. “There’s a vineyard, gardens. I can send word ahead for them to start renovations on the guest bedroom. Come with me,” he said again, softly. He wasn’t above begging, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to.

Jaskier looked at him with a confused but affectionate look spread across his fine features, and said, “Okay.”

Geralt sent a letter ahead to warn the staff of their plans to summer at the estate, and they began their journey to the Duchy.

It was a long journey, but not an arduous one. For once, Geralt allowed them to stick to the main roads, and at this time of year even Velen was bearable. The sweeping fields spread out around them in swaths of green and gold, punctuated here and there by defiant patches of wildflowers. Jaskier wasn’t as quick as he used to be following Geralt on the Path, but they weren’t on the Path anymore. They purchased a second horse and rode side by side at a leisurely pace. When the day grew hot, they would post up in a convenient spot of shade and let the horses graze, lunching on sun warmed bread and sweetmeats. Jaskier rambled the hours away with stories of his students and old antics at Oxenfurt, and Geralt responded with his own tales of hunts and growing up in the keep with his brothers. It was good to have another voice on the road again after months of traveling alone. It was good that it was Jaskier. Geralt had missed him. Once he wouldn’t have been able to admit it, even to himself, but it seemed silly now to hide it. A wall put up against someone who had been inside for years.

They slept beneath the stars and in cramped inns, sharing small spaces like they had for decades. It was different, Geralt thought. Something had released in his shoulders when Jaskier had agreed to come with him. They weren’t in a rush - there were no contracts to fill, no galas to play at. Jaskier’s purse was heavy from his time spent lecturing, and Geralt was able to pick up a few simple contracts as they went. Easy jobs that would put some extra coin in his pocket and lift the tension from the shoulders of the locals. But for the most part it was just the two of them, drinking sweet summer mead and browsing morning markets, getting accustomed to each other’s presence again.

Sitting across the fire from him one night as they camped, Jaskier said, “You’re different, you know.”

Geralt lifted his head from where he’d been skinning the pheasants for supper. “Hmm?”

Jaskier smiled, his eyes soft. “Well, maybe not that different.” At Geralt’s odd look, he went on. “You told me once that witchers never change. That they’re set in their ways. I think you were talking about something like your potions routine when you said it at the time, but I thought it applied to the whole of the witcher experience.”

Geralt hummed again. “It’s true. We age slowly. Get set in our habits.”

“But you changed,” Jaskier said. “I’ve seen it. After Ciri, and now, since we’ve left Oxenfurt. You’re different.”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably. They’d never been on the road together like this, just the two of them as companions. Before Geralt had been focused on the Path, and Jaskier had been cataloguing his deeds as if he were some kind of hero of legend. He knew Jaskier admired Geralt’s drive, his ability to push on towards the next contract. Maybe the bard would think less of him, knowing that he was content to leave the Path behind for so long. “I’m still me,” he said aloud.

Jaskier gave him another smile, warm and honeyed. “I know it’s you, daft man,” he said. “It’s good. To see you… put down the torch for a bit.”

Geralt wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just gave an agreeable rumble in his chest. And then, because he’d spent so long learning how to use his words around his daughter, he said, “I’m glad you’re here, Jaskier.”

A brief moment of surprise passed over Jaskier’s features, his eyes widening. Though Geralt had become better at voicing his affections over the years, he knew that the bard was always taken aback by the behavior. After a second Jaskier’s smile became a grin, and Geralt felt something in him relax even further. “I’m glad to be here, my friend. You know I can’t resist an adventure.”

They arrived in Toussaint quickly after that, both eager to end their days on the road. The countryside spread out around them slowly transformed from the muted colors of the north into the vibrant greens, purples and reds of the vineyards and forests. Geralt always forgot how stunning the Duchy was, with its colorful houses and flashy clothes. For once Jaskier fit in with the crowd flawlessly; it would take more than a bright doublet to stand out in Toussaint. Geralt had always liked it here. The peasants tended to be less prejudiced against non-humans, witchers included, and the knights he’d met always treated him as a brother in arms rather than pest control. The winters were mild and the summers sweet, and the wines were rich even if they were impossible for him to pronounce at times.

Of course Jaskier proved to be fluent in the local language - “What do you think the Seven Liberal Arts even entail, Geralt?” - which was helpful when they passed through smaller villages. Those away from the common crossroads or larger settlements tended to have fewer people who spoke the common northern tongue. They made their way to Geralt’s estate through a series of inns, barns and guest bedrooms as Jaskier relentlessly charmed the locals in grandiose displays of hospitality.

As they approached the estate, Geralt pulled Roach to a stop at the top of a hill. “This is it,” he said, nodding to indicate the view.

Jaskier gaped, craning to look out over the small collection of buildings and the dozens and dozens of grapevines that were nestled in the valley below. Geralt could see several workers out tending to the fields; his majordomo must have been overseeing things as agreed upon. They would have to get to know the rest of the staff while they were here. “This is all yours?” Jaskier asked, snapping Geralt’s attention back to the present.

“The house, most of the fields. I’ve not paid all that much attention to it before now, honestly. The house needs work. Never had any reason to sink funds into it before now.” He’d sent a fair sum of gold ahead to Barnabas-Basil to get started on renovations, but it likely would have only been enough to make the main complex habitable. Geralt was confident that he could undertake much of the repairs himself, in time. It would be good to have a project.

“It’s expansive. You produce wine here?” Jaskier asked, turning back towards him.

“Yes, but you’ll have to ask the majordomo which ones.”

Jaskier nodded to himself as they continued down the hill, soon approaching the main gate to the small villa. Members of the staff bustled throughout the property, though many stopped to look as the two of them passed by. As they settled their horses near a storage shed, the majordomo approached them, apparently already made aware of their arrival.

“Ah, Master Geralt, I trust that your travels were smooth? Please, come inside - I will have someone come and tend to the horses.” Barnabas-Basil Foulty was a clean shaven, bald man with sharp, almost bird-like features, and the head of the estate in Geralt’s stead. He stood at perfect attention at all times, shoulders back and head held high. A proud man, if not also an extremely polite one. Geralt liked him immensely, because he was good at his job and could keep up in the cups the one time the two had drank together.

“Ah, this must be the famous Barnabas-Basil. Fantastic to finally meet your acquaintance, my good man,” Jaskier said, jumping in to give the majordomo’s hand a firm shake. “Geralt has praised your skills from here to Redania and back.”

Barnabas-Basil inclined his head towards Geralt, though his spine did not stray an inch. “I thank you, sir, for your kind words. Please, allow me to show you the progress that we have made on the main house so you might get settled.”

The domo walked them through the estate, giving Jaskier a brief tour and pointing out new additions to Geralt. He’d not been to the estate in at least two years, but it was clear that the workers were making good use of the space. The small collection of colorful houses down the road had fresh coats of paint, and children played in the courtyard below the main house. A garden flourished in the space between the manor and the vineyard, dominated by root vegetables and herbs.

“If you would like, we can have it cleared out so that you might use it for your own purposes,” Barnabas-Basil said. His face betrayed no feelings on the issue.

Geralt grunted. “No need. The staff can use it as they wish.” He refused to meet Jaskier’s gaze as the bard beamed at him proudly. After decades of friendship Jaskier still seemed to find it a delight anytime Geralt did something he thought was particularly chivalrous. Geralt was not eager for him to meet the knights, with their virtues and heroic deeds.

The house, as he suspected, was functional but only just. “We’ve done what we could in a short amount of time, sir,” Barnabas-Basil said, his tone politely apologetic. “I assure you renovations are far from complete.”

“It’s fantastic,” Jaskier said, already darting off to explore the other rooms. There was a small kitchen, a bedroom, bathroom and an upstairs loft that could be made into a second bedroom. The additional bed wouldn’t arrive for another week or two.

“We can share,” Geralt said without looking at Jaskier, and did not elaborate further. “Show me what else needs done.”

They fell quickly into a routine. Geralt spent his days working with the locals on renovations, slowly breathing vitality back into the old manor. When he grew tired of working with lumber, he waded into the vineyards, to help pluck the delicate grapes from their twisting vines. A pair of women admonished him for his sloppy work on the first day and taught him how to gently cut the branches away and check the grapes for ripeness. Jaskier fluctuated between helping out with the building work and composing, though he also made the occasional day trip into the city to perform. In the evening they would retire to the house to eat, drink and chat over games of cards. At night they would curl up in Geralt’s bed, as they had when sharing quarters on the road.

It was a strange new intimacy, to learn what Jaskier was like in his bed. They had shared bedrolls many times over the years, but never with any consistency. When the nights were too cold or the inn too full, they would sigh and grumble and agree to share a space for the night, as a matter of convenience. But as soon as they had the coin or the resources to do so, they would always put distance between themselves again. Geralt supposed it had been a kind of self preservation instinct, but he now found little threat in the warmth of Jaskier next to him at night. He learned that some days Jaskier woke before the sunrise, throwing himself out of bed in a tangle of limbs to scramble for a quill. Other days he slept late, sprawled out across the sheets and dozing until the heat of the day forced him up. Often Geralt woke to the bard curled around him, an arm thrown across his broad chest, nose tucked under the witcher’s jaw. Those times always made something tighten in Geralt’s throat. No one should trust a witcher like Jaskier did, but he was grateful for the bard’s foolishness. Jaskier had always believed that Geralt would keep him safe, even when the witcher had refused to even admit that they were friends. Jaskier deserved better, but it didn’t stop Geralt from turning into his warmth each morning, wishing to reach out.

When the second bed came, Jaskier made no effort to relocate to the guest room. Geralt didn’t bring it up.

It only took a month for him to openly think about it, but when he finally did he was surprised it hadn’t come sooner. He looked up from where he was carving a notch in a new post for one of the fences and saw Jaskier sitting on the steps of the manor, the end of his quill hovering near his lips. His mouth moved around abstract syllables as he reached for the next lyric in a new song. The soft, repetitive notes rose and fell in the still summer air, and Geralt could see a small spot of ink on Jaskier’s cheek where he’d tapped himself with the quill by accident. Later that night, Geralt would point it out and they would both laugh, and Jaskier would play at being angry Geralt hadn’t brought it up sooner, and then Geralt would offer to help him clean up. Jaskier looked up from his place on the stairs and met his eye, feeling the attention on him as he always did. When he saw Geralt looking he smiled, as brightly as if he’d not seen the witcher in months, instead of moments. Geralt’s chest swelled with an unspeakable feeling, thick and heady affection and trust and something else even beyond that, and he thought, Oh, I love him.

Geralt suggested a picnic. Jaskier was ecstatic, though he tried to act as if he had to consider the notion.

“Will there be wine?” he asked, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, fondly exasperated, “we live on a vineyard.”

So they grabbed some bottles from the storeroom, packed a light cotton blanket and some food leftover from lunch and set off up the nearby hill. It took them about twenty minutes to reach the top, but once they did they were quite near the place they’d first stopped to look over the estate. It was nearing evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and making the shadows of the workers coming in stretch out long across the fields. The two men spread out their things, sitting to watch the landscape move below them as they uncorked one of the bottles.

Geralt let Jaskier chatter away about nothing for a while, letting the sound wash over him as they shared the bread and wine. After a while Jaskier fell quiet, leaving them both to gaze out at the beauty of the land around them. Geralt turned to look at Jaskier. The sweep of his brow, the soft bow of his lips. The smattering of freckles he’d collected from weeks on the road, lying in fields and letting the sun kiss his cheeks. To be jealous of the sun, Geralt thought wryly.

Jaskier turned to meet his gaze, realizing that he was being watched. “What is it?” he asked.

“Why did you come with me?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier chuckled a bit, leaning back on one hand. His shirt was unlaced a ways down the front, leaving his dark chest hair exposed. Geralt wanted to put his nose in the hollow of his throat and just breathe there for a while. “I’m not one to turn down a free holiday, my dear.”

“No,” Geralt said, trying to ignore the way the pet name made his stomach flip. “I mean, why did you always come with me? Everyone… People come and go. But you always came back. Why?”

Jaskier gave him an admonishing look. Geralt didn’t know what to make of it. “You know the answer to that,” he said, and his tone held a warning that the witcher didn’t understand.

“I know you value our friendship,” Geralt replied, “but I could say that of many. It’s not the same.”

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, his face full of fondness and exasperation and, strangely, an old sort of grief. “You truly are the most unobservant man in the land. You’ve been far more than a friend to me for many years.”

Geralt felt his heart rate pick up at that, the slow thud speeding up to match Jaskier’s. “You’re saying…” He found himself unable to complete the thought. Even after so many years of trying to do better, it was still impossible to form words past the thundering in his ears. This moment felt delicate, like the wrong phrase might shatter it apart.

“I assumed you knew,” Jaskier said with a shrug. The line of his shoulders was just slightly too tense, his body radiating faux casualness. Anyone else may have been fooled, but Geralt had been watching Jaskier for years. “I would never have let it change anything between us, you must know that. You were always involved with someone else - Yennefer, and then Triss and Shani… I didn’t want to get in the way of that. Something that could make you happy.”

“I thought it would,” Geralt said honestly. His gaze flickered over Jaskier’s impassive face. The bard rarely showed his nerves in his expressions, too much a performer for that. Instead it made its way to his hands, twitching over his thighs and worrying the fabric of the blanket, and his heart, which raced in his chest. “I wanted to be the right person for them. Yen wanted me to be useful. Triss wanted me to be a knight in shining armor. They made me feel like I was better than just a witcher.” Jaskier’s lovely mouth twisted slightly, a note of bitterness in his gaze as he looked out over the vineyards. Geralt hurried on. “But you’re the one who made me feel like being a witcher was already good enough.”

Jaskier turned back to him, blinking in surprise. “Well of course it is,” he said, and naturally the bard had missed the point, honing in on his favorite subject: the reputation of witchers and Geralt’s sense of self worth. “You’re already useful, and noble, and good and kind besides all that. You don’t have to be more than what you are to deserve - fuck, basic human connection and love.” He settled slightly, his gesturing hands falling into his lap once more. “Is that why you left them?”

“The Path always calls,” Geralt said with a shrug. “No one but you ever wanted to follow me.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, blushing. Geralt watched the color rise up over his cheek bones with something like fascination, or maybe hunger. “Well, now you know why,” he continued, with obviously false cheer. He gave Geralt a rueful smile. “I promise I won’t make things awkward. I’ve had decades to practice. I mean, it’s been thirty years. If you were going to fall in love with me you probably would have done so already, hmm?”

“You’d think so,” Geralt agreed. “Sorry it took me so long.” And then he leaned into Jaskier’s space and kissed him.

It wasn’t a very good kiss. Barely a kiss at all, really, considering that Jaskier had frozen under him. Geralt pulled back, lifting a hand to run it gently over Jaskier’s side. The bard was absolutely still, his eyes closed tight. There was a small crease between his eyebrows that Geralt wanted to kiss away, but he wasn’t sure if he should. “Sorry,” he said softly.

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open. It was unfair that a man could have beautiful eyelashes, Geralt mused, but here they were. “You mustn’t toy with me, witcher,” Jaskier croaked. His voice was raw, as if he’d been singing for hours.

Geralt moved his hand to the bard’s face, his thumb following along the line of his jaw and up to trace across his cheekbone. Freckles like stars under his fingers. “I’m not,” he rumbled. “I swear it, Jaskier. I just -” He paused, trying to marshal his thoughts. “You were always there. No matter how shitty the Path was, or how miserable people were to you because of me, or how much I pushed you away. You stayed. You made me feel like I was worth something, and you made other people think that way too. Every day without you on the Path was always misery. I should have realized sooner, but I’m not… good at this. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier’s head dropped forward, his brow resting on Geralt’s collarbone. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you apologize in the span of a minute,” he said, voice thin. “This is a lot to take in. Are you saying that you… that you love me? You, Geralt of Rivia, are in love with me?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, smiling into Jaskier’s hair. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Jaskier pulled away to stare at him. Geralt tried to let his affection through, drinking in Jaskier’s beloved face like he hadn’t allowed himself before. The last rays of the sun played over Jaskier’s hair, turning some of the strands to brilliant amber. His eyes were over bright. Whatever the bard saw in Geralt’s expression must have been enough, because the next moment they were kissing again.

It was, Geralt thought, a miracle that he had ever gone so long without doing so. Now that they’d begun, he never wanted to stop. Jaskier’s lips were warm and soft against his, and when Geralt licked slowly into his mouth he tasted of old wine. They stayed like that for a long time, Geralt holding Jaskier close, decades of tension not so much breaking as releasing like a quiet sigh of relief.

Finally they pulled apart, Geralt nosing at Jaskier’s cheek as he hummed contentment into the bard’s skin. He could feel deft fingers petting through his hair, easily working around the tangles that had formed on the walk up the hill. “I love you,” he said, pressing the words below Jaskier’s ear as if he could speak them into his core that way.

Jaskier shivered once under him. “I love you too,” he said, and Geralt could feel him smiling in the way his jaw moved. He knew Jaskier in his bones. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, you know.”

Geralt pulled back, pushing Jaskier’s fringe back with one hand as he met his eyes. “Maybe I’ll just stop running from you,” he said, smiling. Jaskier grinned back, and neither of them mentioned that his eyes were slightly damp. Geralt pushed himself to his feet and reached down a hand to his bard. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

392 notes · View notes

dirtyoatmeall · 3 years

Text

Burnout (Pro!Bakugo x Vet!Reader)

A/N: another sefl indulgent fic, I;ve been having a hard time at work and felt really burnt out today so I wrote this to mke me feel better, not sure how it turned out. I hope you like this.

Pairing: Bakugo x reader- married, female pronouns used for reader I believe.

Word count:~1.5k

Warnings: Cursing

You sigh as you glance at the clock, it was close to 8pm, almost 2 hours since the clinic closed. You reviewed your chart again, trying to remember if there was anything else you noted during the exam. You released the chart and moved the follow up task to the assistants. You took note of how many charts you had left, and switched to look at your tasks. You had been trying to keep up with them, but an emergency had come in and you ended up working through your lunch, a time you usually used to call owners back between bites of your food. You turned to look at your coworker, the closing assistant who instead of leaving when they finished closing, had instead elected to sit in the other office chair, scrolling through her phone.

“Y’know you don’t have to stay, I’m probably gonna be here awhile.” You tried not to sound so exhausted when you spoke, but it was obvious from the look on your face. She just smiled and shook her head, “You know I don’t have anything to do, and this isn’t the best area, I don’t like leaving you by yourself here.” You smiled and nodded once, turning back to your charts, occasionally making small talk about the appointments through-out the day.

It was a tough day. You were the only doctor working, you knew you were going to be short-staffed looking at the schedule but someone ended up calling out, so everyone was always running around, not having a moment of rest. It seemed like the phones were always ringing and every owner had about 50 million questions. Your spay ran long, and you just couldn’t seem to catch your breath. You preformed 3 euthanasia as well. You had cried in the bathroom after each one, as well as after a client yelled at you for 10 minutes on the phone, over prices you didn’t set and circumstances you didn’t have control over. You still tried to maintain the fun atmosphere in the back, trying to keep morale up, you couldn’t tell if it worked.

After another 45 minutes, you closed out your desktop, packing up your bag as your coworker does the same. The two of you leave together and you exchange farewells as you get in your car. You gripped the steering wheel, as you sat in the dark and leaned forward so your forehead rested against the top of the steering wheel. You cried for another 15 minutes before sitting up and taking a deep breath, wiping the tears from your cheeks. You turn on your car and put on some music before pulling out of the clinic parking lot.

It took you only about 20 minutes to get home, checking yourself in the mirror before getting out of the car, making sure you didn’t look like an absolute mess. You had completely forgotten to text your husband you would be late, it wasn’t the first time you had, and most likely wouldn’t be the last. Your shoulders sag as you approach the door, all you wanted was to curl up with your husband and sleep for the next 50 years. You open the door quietly, incase Katsuki was already asleep, and toed off your shoes, dropping your bag unceremoniously on the couch on the way to the kitchen.

You had thought Katuski had just left the light on for you, but you were surprised to find your husband sitting at the dining table, scrolling through his phone, looking up when you enter. “Oh,” you say, pausing in the doorway before walking up to him, “I thought you’d be asleep by now.” He simply stood up to meet you, wrapping his arms your waist and leaning down to place a quick kiss on your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck and pretty much collapse against him, resting your face in the crook of his neck, enjoying the warmth your husband provides. “What kind of asshole doesn’t wait up for his wife?” He says gruffly, actions betraying his tone as he softly rubs your back. “Hard day?” He asks quietly, like he already knows the answer. You nod against his neck and softly curse as you feel hot tears well up. You had thought you had cried everything out earlier, but apparently not.

Katsuki stiffens for half a second, not expecting waterworks as he gently cups the side of your face, bringing you to look at him. You take in his features, the hard lines of his nose, the various scars and freckles that adorn his face, and his crimson eyes, that soften whenever they meet yours, which now held worry in them. This wasn’t the first time you had cried after work, but it usually was out of frustration after going over complicated cases, nothing this bad this unprompted had happened before. You hiccup through the sobs, closing your eyes briefly as he wipes at your tears. His other hand came to cup your other cheek, and your hands grip his wrists loosely. “What happened?” He says gently, before kissing your forehead and leading you toward the bedroom.

You mull over the day, sniffling as you changed from your scrubs into a pair of sleep shorts and one of Katsuki’s shirts. While you changed and began recounting the day, your husband was getting the bed ready, climbing in and opening his arms to you as you clambered after him, curling into his side, sobs growing heavier as you went over the argument you had. “I-I can’t even count how many times I was told I don’t know what I’m doing, that I’m bad at my job, and-“ You grip his shirt tightly in your fist as you take a deep breath. Katsuki didn’t say a word, and you looked up to meet his eyes through your tears. “And what if- what if they’re right?” You lip wobbles as you look away from him for a second before meeting is eyes again, slightly worried at his response. His forehead furrows for a moment as he thinks of what to say.

“Fuck them.” He says simply, and you blink once before snorting and resting your head on his chest. “I’m serious, you went to school for 8 fucking years, working your ass off for this degree just for some extra to tell you that you don’t know what you’re talking about because he didn’t want to fucking pay for it? Nah, that’s not gonna fly. Did you tell your hospital manager?” He questioned and you nodded. “Yeah, one of the girls told her about it while I was crying in the bathroom.” He sighs at your admission, “You cried at work?” You laughed bitterly as you thought of just how much you’ve cried today. “Yeah this is like the 5th time today.” He held you a bit tighter, kissing the crown of your head. “ You need to take a break. You’ve been working non-stop while what’s-her-face is on maternity leave. You’re getting burnt out. I hate watching you destroy yourself like this. You keep giving and giving, soon enough there’s not going to be anymore of you to give.”

You nod at his words, you know they’re true, you’ve been working 10 hour shifts, many of them without a lunch break, way too often lately. You know the statistics, you had mandatory mental health classes in grad school to help you develop coping mechanism and ways to prevent burnout, but it never quite translated properly into the workforce. They always stressed time off, but doctor schedules were made months in advance, and it’s hard to know exactly when you’re going to be feeling this way. “I’ve got a week off coming up soon, if you can get it off too maybe we can go somewhere.” You husband smiles into your hair, squeezing your hip. “I’m one of the top heroes, of course I can get it off. We can go to that seaside town you love so fucking much, maybe we can finally fuck on the beach this time.” You snort, rolling your eyes at his words.

You shift, sitting up slightly, face to face with Katsuki, who had one of his signature smirks on his face. You smile and kiss him gently, cupping his cheek before pulling away. “ I am so lucky to have you Katsuki. I love you so much.” He pulls you back for another kiss before tugging you back down to his side, getting ready to finally commit to sleep. “Of course you are, I’m a fucking catch.” You laugh again and pinch his hip and you settle into him. He retaliates by pinching your ass, kissing your hair as he exhales, listening to you soft breaths. “I love you too, brat.”

#My writing #my hero academia #my hero academy #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagine #bakugo #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo kastuki x reader #mha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #bakugou katuski x reader

93 notes · View notes

penpatronuswhump · 4 years

Photo

WHUMPTOBER 2020

No. 17

Fandom: Avengers

Whumpee: Peter Parker

Caregiver: Tony Stark

Title: Blackmail, Bullets, Blood

By: PenPatronus // PenPatronusAooO

Steve was so concerned about Tony that he followed him one night. Tony walked to a small Stark Industries warehouse eight blocks from the Tower at two in the morning. Peeking through a dusty window, Steve watched as Tony loaded wooden crate after wooden crate into a white Stark Industries van. When Tony went to leave, when the garage door opened, there was Cap standing there illuminated by the headlights with his hands at his hips, looking like a mother who just caught her son’s hand in the cookie jar.

Tony stuck his head out of the driver’s side window and shouted, “Out of my way, Rogers!”

“I can’t do that, Stark,” Steve called back. “Not until you tell me why you’re sneaking out missiles in the middle of the night.”

“It’s none of your damn business where I’m going with my own inventory, Rogers,” Tony spat back. Tony jumped out of the van and pushed Steve in the chest. “Now get out of here!”

Steve caught Tony’s wrists when Stark went in to push him again. “Where are you taking those missiles? I thought Stark Industries was done with arms dealing. Who are you selling these to?”

“Selling them?” Tony laughed. He put his hands on his knees and laughed harder. “Selling them…”

In the bright light, Cap noticed that Tony’s skin was white and shiny with sweat. He appeared to have lost a few pounds and the crescents beneath his eyes were darker than usual. “Tony, what’s wrong with you?”

Tony wiped his eyes with his flannel shirt sleeve. “Nothing.”

“You’re upset and you’re hiding something from me.”

“I’m hiding a lot of things from you. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Tony…”

“Cap, I really need to get going.” Stark checked his watch. “I can’t be late.”

“Fine. I’ll go with you. I’m driving.” Steve went to pass Tony, but Stark grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Listen to me. Just… Just listen, Steve. I can’t get you involved in this. Nobody can get involved in this. It’s just between me and…” Tony sighed.

“Tony, I’m your friend.” Steve put his hands on Tony’s shoulders. “I just want to help.”

“You can’t help me,” Tony whispered. “This is the only way. This… This…” Tony’s face crumpled. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. “He took the kid.”

“Parker? Who?”

“Klaue. Ulysses Klaue, the arms dealer. He has Peter. And if I don’t keep giving him missiles, he’ll kill him.” Arms fell away, and Stark took his phone out of his pocket. He opened an app Cap didn’t recognize, and showed a live feed of a prison cell. In it, a very skinny, very disheveled, very dirty Peter Parker sat in the corner with his arms around his legs, staring at the wall. “Klaue gives him one bite of bread and one sip of water for every missile I give him. And if I don’t get there soon, Peter won’t have anything to eat in the morning.”

“He’s practically starving him,” Cap said. His face turned red. “Tony, we’re getting him out of there. Right now.”

Stark shook his head. “Klaue said that if he sniffs even the slightest bit of trouble, he’ll kill the kid without a second thought. If one security guard sees us, if one alarm goes off – Pete’s dead.”

Steve nodded. He gave it some thought – eyebrows frowning. “We’re going to need some help, then, aren’t we?”

“Steve, no, I…” Tony put his face in his hands, then suddenly whirled around and punched the truck with his bare fist. “I can’t risk the kid! This is the only way to keep him alive.”

“Tony, Klaue will eventually kill him, no matter what. We gotta get him out now.”

Tony took three deep, settling breaths. “You’re right,” he decided. “You’re always right, Cap. So… What do we do?”

“What we’re gonna do,” said Steve, “is rescue Parker and take down Klaue at the same time. And, fortunately, we have some very Ninja-like assassins who can get the kid out before Klaue even knows we’re there.”

----------

Tony stood on the dock outside Klaue’s seaside warehouse and watched the arms dealer’s men unload the missiles from the van. The only light was the moon over the water and one flickering snot-colored lightbulb above the entrance. Tony pulled his baseball cap down and folded his arms against his chest. Autumn was just about to exit the stage, and the East Coast had been promised an extra cold winter.

Klaue emerged from his office wearing a pit-stained white button down shirt over dirty jeans. He had a toothpick in his mouth and an assault rifle over his shoulder. “Mr. Stark,” he greeted, “my most loyal supplier. I’m told you’re five missiles short today.”

Tony held up his palms. “My own supplier let me down, Klaue. But I brought you something to make up for it. Look in the back seat.” Klaue nodded at his henchmen. One opened the van and an unconscious, tied-up, beat-up Steve Rogers came tumbling out, rolling across the wooden dock.

Klaue clapped his hands together. “Quite a gift!” he exclaimed. “I know some underground scientists who will pay quite a lot for a specimen like this.” He motioned for his henchmen. Tony expected Klaue to order them to take Steve inside but, instead, they lifted him to his feet. Klaue approached Steve, said, “I know you’re awake, Captain,” and smacked Steve across the face. Cap coughed and spit out a tooth.

“Let me guess what your plan was,” Klaue said, attention back on Tony. “I put Rogers in the same cell with Parker, together with their combined strength they break through the bars, and then they sneak out – escaping from under my nose, yes?”

Tony pursed his lips together so hard that they turned white. “Listen, Klaue, I just want the kid. I’ll give you whatever you ask, just give me the kid back.”

“We all want things, Stark. I want to own a Caribbean island. And, I’m only five mil short of it. And now, here you are, interfering with my dream, trying to take it away.” Klaue shook his head. “Tisk, tisk,” he said, waggling his forefinger. “I told you I’d kill the kid if you interfered. But, I think I’ll do you one better. I think, right in front of your eyes, I’ll kill all four of them.”

“Four?”

A garage door opened and a half dozen henchmen wearing thick jackets and caps over their faces exited with a very bloodied, very beat up Peter, Clint, and Natasha. Klaue gave the order to stand them next to Cap, then he ordered all four of them to their knees. His goons pushed them down and aimed guns at their backs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter whimpered.

Tony shook his head. “I let you down, kid. I’m so, so sorry.”

Klaue was soaking up the moment like sunshine. “This is lovely. Half the world wants you all dead and here I am, little old me, holding each of your lives in my hands. I really should sell tickets to this.”

“Enough, Klaue,” Tony barked. “I want my team free. I’ll give you anything, anything you want.”

“Anything, huh?” Klaue tapped his chin. “What if what I want is for you to see your friends die?” He nodded at his henchman. “Kill Barton.”

“NO!” Tony screamed. He was too late. The henchman shot Clint in the back. Barton collapsed forward onto the dock. He didn’t move.

“Clint!” Nat sobbed.

Klaue suddenly cocked and aimed his weapon. “Who’s next?” he asked, aiming the gun first at Peter, and then at Natasha, and then at Steve. “Which one of your friends is next?”

Tony saw movement in his peripheral vision, and it took all his concentration not to look at the roof of the warehouse. “Klaue?” Tony said, his posture straight now, his classic smirk back on his face, “would you like to guess what happens when a warehouse full of volatile weapons gets hit by a bolt of lightning?” Tony looked up at the roof.

Klaue followed his gaze. Thor waved down at the crowd, then raised his hammer.

“Get him!” Klaus screamed, and he and all his henchmen turned to fire. At that precise moment Bruce Banner, who’d disguised himself as the very goon who shot Barton in his bulletproof vest, pivoted and hit Klaue in the shoulder with a bullet. Klaue tumbled backwards off the dock and into the water. His rifle spat a half-dozen times as he fell.

Natasha flipped to her feet. Barton rolled over and somersaulted backwards. Steve broke out of his bonds instantly. While those three kept the henchmen from shooting Thor, Peter sprinted into Tony’s arms. Stark caught him and lifted him off his feet, so happy was he. “Into the van, kid,” Tony ordered. “Everyone in the van, now!” he shouted. He could feel the dock rumbling as more of Klaue’s goons were heading their way. Barton, Banner, and Rogers dove into the back of the white van. Natasha got in the driver’s seat while Tony pushed Peter into the back seat. Tony yanked the door shut and shouted, “Heads down!”

Outside, Thor rose into the air, summoned lightning, and slammed it down into the weapons compound. The place exploded in a massive mushroom cloud. But seconds before it did, Thor picked up the van and flew it out of danger. He set it on the street six blocks away and opened the door, revealing his disheveled but whole friends. “Sorry I was late,” the god said. “I was with Jane and I didn’t get your message and... Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Because we had to get there by a deadline!” Tony shouted at him. He sat against the far door with his arms around Peter, who was leaning back against him. “You cut it pretty damn close you big Norse piece of—” Tony felt something warm on his shirt. He looked down and saw dark liquid against his shoulder. It was blood, blood that wasn’t his. One of Klaue’s shots had hit a target.

“PETE!”

Peter had gone limp. He fell back into Tony’s arms, smearing blood from his shot up shoulder down the rest of Tony’s shirt. Stark tossed his hat away and adjusted Peter’s body so that the kid was cradled in his lap. “Nat! Hospital! Now!” Tony shouted.

A tear slid down Peter’s cheek. “Thanks for coming for me,” he said between hitched breaths. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“Kid, hang on, we’ll get you some help in a second, in just a second, all right?”

Peter licked his white lips. “It hurts,” he whispered.

Tony’s heart clenched like a fist. He looked at his wide-eyed friends who were just as helpless as he was. “Hang on, kid,” was all he could think to say. Adrenaline burned through him and his face flushed. “Just hang on, Pete.”

---------

May exited Peter’s hospital room with a fake smile that instantly disintegrated once she was sure she was out of her nephew’s eyeline. Tony stood up from a hallway bench and she hugged him. “He’s so brave,” she sobbed in his ear. “He’s incredible.”

Tony nodded. He sniffed, and then held May at arm’s length. “He is. He’s an incredible kid.”

“He wants to talk to you.”

“Ok.” Tony took a deep breath. “Ok.”

The kid was asleep when he walked in, so Tony had time to sit in a chair beside the bed and relive every moment of the “rescue.” He should’ve done better. He should’ve acted faster. He should’ve this, he should’ve that…

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony shot to his feet. He leaned over the hospital bed and smiled at Peter without showing his teeth. “Hey, kid. How ya feeling?”

Tears sprung to Peter’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m so sorry. None of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for me. The others – are they all right? God, Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry. I deserve to be—”

Tony held up his finger and made a sound that resembled a game show buzzer. “Don’t,” he ordered softly. “Don’t do that, kid. That’s a dark road I’ve traveled, and I won’t let you go down it. None of this was your fault, you understand? None of it. And the others are fine. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

Peter frowned at him. “Mr. Stark? Are you fine? You’re—you’re crying.”

Tony didn’t even realize it. He wiped his eyes dry. “Joyful tears, kid.” Then, without thinking about it, he leaned in and kissed the kid on the forehead. “Glad you’re ok,” he whispered, “so glad, Pete.”

The End

19 notes · View notes

emjenwrites · 4 years

Text

It doesn't even matter how hard you try [A Peaky Blinders Fanfic]

Written for @peakysource‘s Peaky Blinders Appreciation Week Day 6: Seasons.

So firstly, remember how I said that I moved my Day 6 fic because I had a new idea for Day 6? Turns out I was getting "Day 6" and "September 6th" confused. The fic in question is actually tomorrow's. How embarrassing. **facepalms** Anyway those of you who follow me will remember that a couple weeks ago I was complaining about how I was writing a whump fic that wasn't turning out. That's this fic. Reading it back, it's actually not as bad as I'd thought it was, so that's good for you all I guess.

I apologize for the extremely tenuous relation to the prompt.

Title is from "In The End" by Linkin Park.

It was fall. The seasons were just starting to really change and Tommy had had a migraine for days on end when he finally gave into Ada’s pleas to see a doctor.

Actually, things were a bit more dramatic than that. What actually happened was that he’d had a migraine for days on end and almost passed out during a speech in Parliament. It was ridiculous and embarrassing because something like this had never happened to him before, but the room was hot and his tie was too tight and he hadn’t eaten or drank anything because he couldn’t keep anything down and his head hurt so fucking much. He ended up cutting out the last page of his speech because he really needed to sit down and sounding like an idiot in front of the other MPs was better than outright collapsing in front of them.

He gritted his teeth through the rest of the meeting and then it was over and Ada was there pushing his head down between his knees and gently rubbing back as he gagged fruitlessly on the pain in his head.

“Tommy,” she said gently, as she’d been saying for weeks, months. “You need to see a doctor.” And he finally gave in.

Ada drove and he lay on the back seat, eyes squeezed clothes against the light.

Tommy hadn’t seen a doctor since he’d dumped out his prescribed morphine three months after his head injury. It was his poor luck that Ada took him to the same hospital that had treated him back then and as soon as they heard who he was he found himself face to face with the same doctor he’d blown off years before. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—he was in too much pain to care.

“How long have you had this particular migraine?” the doctor asked.

“It’s been a while,” Ada said because Tommy was far beyond answering. “Multiple days, I think.”

“On and off or continuously?” the doctor asked with perhaps a note of worry to his voice.

“Continuously?” Ada asked, Tommy nodded.

They kept talking, but Tommy faded out after that. He came back to himself briefly when they tried to make him get up and he almost immediately collapsed at which point they promptly admitted him to the hospital and finally, finally gave him morphine.

After that he fell asleep and woke up in bed in a private room much like the one he’d recovered in after his run-in with Father Hughes. Ada was sitting in a chair next to the bed reading a book. She looked up when he shifted, got up and left without a word, which was briefly confusing until she came back with the doctor.

The doctor asked a bunch of questions and Tommy was honest since Ada glared at him whenever he tried to lie.

Eventually the doctor sat back and removed his glasses. “I think that stress is probably exacerbating the migraines,” the doctor said. “I suggest taking some time off.”

Tommy’s stomach clenched. Somehow the mere thought of taking a vacation tasted like Shelby Company gin which didn’t make any sense. He’d stopped drinking his own gin after his disastrous vacation but all his memories of the time were soaked in the taste.

“That’s impossible,” Tommy said. “I’m an MP.” That wasn’t quite the truth but it was a better excuse than the truth. Lizzie had suggested once or twice that they take Charlie and Ruby to the seaside for a vacation and he had always come up with one excuse or another to dodge out of it. He hadn’t even taken a single day off since he’d started his campaign to become MP and he had no intention of ever taking time off ever again. He needed to be functional and apparently his brain imploded if he stopped moving. That was unacceptable so time off was unacceptable, even though he’d been having trouble sleeping recently and was constantly exhausted which probably wasn’t helping the headaches at all. He spent most of his time trying not to think about it. The knowledge that he was probably going to be this exhausted for the rest of his life and there was absolutely no way to change it was overwhelming.

The doctor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can give you a prescription for laudanum, but without some major lifestyle changes I can’t see that being particularly helpful in the long run. Take some time off and get some rest. I think that will help with the migraines more than any medication would.” Tommy had learned a thing or two about dealing with doctors while recovering from his head injury. He knew not to let on that you were going to outright ignore their advice so he nodded and played along until he got released a couple hours later.

He was surprised by how cold it was when they left the hospital. It had been hot when Ada had driven him there, but now the weather had changed completely. He pulled his coat tightly around himself as he and Ada hurried towards the car.

“You’re not going to listen to him, are you?” Ada asked once they were inside the car, out of the wind.

Tommy just lit a cigarette and didn’t say anything.

Ada heaved a sigh and slapped the heal of her hand against the steering wheel in frustration. “Tommy, you can’t carry on like this. This isn’t going to get better unless you change something. Let Arthur handle more of the business. Take Lizzie and the kids to the continent for Christmas. That would probably make Charlie’s year.”

“Ada…” He said.

“At least fill that prescription,” Ada said. “I don’t want to drive you to the hospital again. Never again.”

Ada had been the one to drive him to the hospital after the original head injury so if he had any sense he really should make sure they didn’t end up in this situation again. He fingered the paper from the prescription in his pocket. “I’ll fill it,” he said and he meant it.

“At least think about the other stuff too?” Ada said. “This isn’t going to go away because it’s inconvenient, especially since—sorry to break it to you—you’re not getting any younger.”

Like he wasn’t aware of that. He exhaled smoke and didn’t respond. Somehow, despite the hours he’d spent passed out on morphine he was still exhausted, which wasn’t new. He was always exhausted and he was always going to be exhausted and he wished that there was some kind of way to change that but there wasn’t so he was best off finding some way to get used to it.

“Just drive, Ada,” he said and closed his eyes.

#pbweek2020 #peakysource #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #ada shelby #mine #pb appreciation week

24 notes · View notes

all-things-skam · 4 years

Text

Jens’ season | Chapter one

Tuesday, January 7th

Winter break had quickly gone by and school was already starting again - much to the boys' displeasure. The return to school was tough for some, their sleeping schedules being messed up from staying up late after partying all winter break.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t so cold that morning. Jens and the boys stood outside the building, chatting as they waited for the first bell to go off. Moyo was kinda falling asleep, and Robbe had this huge, bright hickey peeking out of his hoodie.

''Nine times? Don't you think that's a little bit exaggerated?'' Jens said, not quite believing Aaron’s story.

''I'm telling the truth. We fucked all night long. It was... wow. Orgasm over orgasm over orgasm ove-''

''Okay, okay. We get it,'' Robbe interrupted, putting a stop to Aaron's detailed night with Amber.

Aaron scoffed. ''You're just jealous you and Sander have never had a torrid night like us.''

Since getting together with Amber, Aaron didn’t seem to be able to stop talking about her. It was all he talked about now: her - and what they did together in bed. Jens got him. Truly. Losing your virginity is a big moment - more so when your first time was with the girl you've been after all year. However, the boys didn't need - nor want - to hear every little detail of his and Amber's sexual life. The curly haired one had always been an oversharer, but now that he was dating Amber, it was worse - if that was even possible.

Robbe's cheeks flushed, flashing back to his night at the penthouse. If only they knew...

''Girls bodies are different, Robbe.''

''Are they? I didn't notice,'' the brunet responded, light sarcasm out

Moyo laughed. ‘’And you? What’s going on with Jana? You two were quite cozy on Saturday,’’ he said, raising his eyebrows knowingly, because everyone had seen the two making out in a hallway at the party.

Jens shrugged, having not much to tell. ‘’I don't know. We're letting things flow and seeing where it'll go, I guess,’’ he replied, brushing it off. ‘’We don't want to go too fast and make the same mistakes.”

He had kinda got back together - if you could even call it that - with Jana at Robbe's Christmas party, sharing a kiss again for the first time after months of flirting and dipping toes around each other. It took them a long time to want to try again, kiss again, but they were glad to have waited.

Even though breaking up had been hard as hell, it was the right thing to do. Their relationship had become toxic; Jana's guilt and paranoia had to stop. They had reached a state where staying together was only causing pain and although it broke their hearts to come to this conclusion, sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

‘’If you and Jana get back together, we could all go on a triple date. You, me, Robbe, Sander and the girls,’’ Aaron suggested, already looking forward to the non-agreed date.

Robbe shook his head, not on board with this idea. ‘’Sander and I are not going on a date with you and Amber.’’

‘’Jana and I are taking things slow. We’re not going on a date anytime soon,’’ Jens reminded him.

Dates had never been their thing either, being barely fifteen when they started dating - and, like, very broke. The closest to a date they ever had was watching movies on a laptop. The freezing screen and adds for pornographic websites weren’t what you’d call romantic.

Aaron furrowed his eyebrows. ‘’Sander is practically a part of the Broerrrs now and Jana and Amber are friends, so why not-’’

‘’Because Sander can't stand Amber,’’ Robbe blurted out, having enough of walking on eggshells concerning the two. Sander had made it clear the day they met at Seaside that he didn’t like Amber. He found her too bossy and annoying for his taste.

Between them, Moyo made ‘oooh’ sounds, adding drama to the on-going spat.

Their conversation was drowned and ignored as Jens looked away, eyes falling on a boy with dark blond hair and a denim jacket. Jens didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help looking at him. There was something on this unknown boy that drew his attention and gave him an odd sensation he couldn’t quite explain or understand. What the fuck?

''Who is that?’’

As if on cue, the unnamed teenager looked back at him, giving Jens a good look at his face. He was all angular jaw and tousled, curly fringe.

‘’Some new kid that just moved here from the Netherlands. I think his name is Lucas,’’ Aaron responded, for once being aware of the latest gossips. ‘’Why?’’

Jens shrugged, tearing his eyes from Lucas, turning back to the boys. ‘’Curious. Hadn’t seen him here before.’’

Wednesday, January 8th

Hood on, Jens stood outside Lotte's school, waiting for her to get out. His mom had messaged him, asking to pick up his sister after school because she replaced someone at the hospital and couldn't pick her up. Jens didn't mind - and it helped ease his mom's mind. Lotte was only eight, still a bit young to walk by herself.

There was ten minutes left before Lotte would be released, so Jens pulled out his phone, seeing new messages from the Broerrrs group chat.

Moyo: BOYS!! We need to find an idea for the next vlog. We haven't put anything up since the start of exam week…

Robbe: The vlogs... I forgot about those

Moyo: Maybe if you’d stop sucking face with Sander for a minute

Robbe: We’re NOT always kissing…

Aaron: That’s all you two did on break! I even saw Sander wiping his mouth at a party 😏🍆💦

Robbe: WHAT?!

Jens: As if you and Amber were any better

Moyo: So? Anyone has ideas for the vlogs?

Aaron: What about a mukbangs? Can we do mukbangs?

Moyo: No mukbangs

Aaron: Why not? They’re cool to watch

Moyo: Maybe, but it’s fucking expensive, man. Do you have any idea how much food we need to buy to do mukbangs?

Jens: Yeah, you could barely afford McDonalds last friday 😂

Aaron: Fuck you!! Unlike you, I had a Christmas present to buy for my girlfriend

Moyo: We could do a twister? Have you guys seen the painful twister challenge?

Robbe: Painful twister?

Moyo: It’s like twister, but when you fall, you do a ‘painful’ challenge like eating a hot pepper or going in an ice bath or even waxing a leg

Jens: My sister has a twister mat, I’ll bring it

Moyo: We’re doing it?

Jens: Fine with me

Robbe: Same

Aaron: We’re not gonna do too painful things, right? Please no electric shock

Jens: Electric shock it is!

Moyo: Sunday 2pm at mine?

Robbe: Can’t. Sander and I are having lunch with my dad

A bell went off and the gates opened, freeing everyone. Then, a huddle of kids hurried out of the school, accompanied by a hubbub of voices and laughters. They ran toward their busses while others walked on the sidewalk, heading home by themselves.

‘’Jens!’’ a cheery voice called in the distance.

He looked up from his phone and smiled as Lotte ran in his direction, happy smile on her face. Her beanie was pulled down too much, almost covering her eyes. Jens let out an ‘oof’ as his sister collided into him, hugging him by the waist.

The brunette pushed up her beanie so she could see better. ‘’Where’s Mama?’’ Lotte asked with a frown, not seeing her around.

‘’Someone was sick and she had to replace them at the hospital. It’s gonna be just the two of us tonight.’’

Lotte pouted, her sad face tugging at Jens’ heart. ‘’She’s always working.’’

‘’I know... What do you say we watch Frozen 2 tonight?’’ Jens offered, knowing how much his sister wanted to see it since it came out in theaters.

Her eyes brightened and face lifted immediately at the mention of the Frozen sequel. ‘’For real?’’ Jens nodded. ‘’All my friends saw it during Christmas break and I’m the only one who didn’t. I have to plug my ears every time they talk about it because I don’t want to get spoiled. Mom said she’d take me, but never did.’’

Jens chuckled, easily imagining Lotte trying to block the spoilers. ‘’Well, you can tell them all about it tomorrow.’’

‘’Yes! You’re the best brother.’’ She went for a second hug, jumping excitedly.

Most siblings who are on opposite ends of the age scale have trouble getting along. Having this much of an age gap means having very different interests. Teenagers tend to need space and don't like their stuff to be touched while children are always in the mood to play and a bit invasive - or curious.

It wasn't the case for Jens and Lotte. Jens loved being an older brother. He took his role very seriously and fully embraced the protective big brother role.Sure, she was annoying at times, always asking questions about everything - but she was eight years old, what could one expect?

Despite that, Jens loved spending time with her whether it was helping with homework or watching movies in their pajamas during the weekend. Nothing made him happier than seeing a big smile on his Lotte’s face - except maybe knowing he was the one that made it appear.

Thursday, January 9th

''Left hand on blue,'' Robbe called, being the first to spin the wheel.

Instead of playing the classic way, they decided to all move for every spin. It was more fair to measure everyone's flexibility and endurance. So far, Aaron was losing sorely, having chosen a farther blue circle than necessary.

Jens snickered, seeing his friend's move. Had he ever played Twister?

''Right hand on red.''

This one was easy, at least when you started the right way. Now, Aaron was already struggling, thanks to Moyo, who purposely picked the red circle closer to Aaron.

''I was going to use that one!''

Moyo shrugged. The two others laughed. ''We never agreed to play fair, did we?''

Robbe spun the spinner, watching as Aaron attempted to slide his hand under Jens's chest to reach the other red circle. ''Left foot on green.''

Jens carefully elongated his leg back, putting the asked foot on a green circle, succeeding. Robbe gave him a thumbs-up, but when he turned back to the boys, Moyo's ass was right in his face. He grimaced. ''No... Move away! Get your ass out of my face, man.''

''I can't. It's Aaron's fault. He messed the whole game up when taking the wrong circle,'' Moyo justified.

Guilty, Aaron laughed. ‘’What, how am I supposed to-’’ He was cut off, losing balance when he moved his leg and ended up falling on top of Jens. ‘’Fuck.’’

Robbe snorted. ''And you said you had gotten more flexible now that you’re having so much sex.''

‘’I am. It’s just- The mat is slippery, okay? It wasn't my fault,'' he tried to defend, but it didn't matter because he had fell anyways. First loser.

“That’s what happens when you don’t take off your socks, man.” Moyo laughed, gesturing to everyone else's bare feet.

Standing from the mat, Jens went to grab the wax strips he bought for the video and held them high for the camera. ‘’Wax time!’’ he and Moyo declared at the same time.

He warmed the wax strips with his hands as Aaron rolled up one of his pant’s leg, revealing a very hairy limb. Jens shared a look with Robbe, looking forward to see their friend suffer. He put the wax strip on Aaron’s leg, smirking. There was no going back, now.

‘’Want me to pull it slowly or one shot?’’

‘’Go slow-’’ He was cut off as Jens didn’t listen and pulled it one shot, making Aaron’s leg throb in pain. ‘’Ow!’’ Aaron curled on himself, holding his - now hairless - leg as if it would lessen the pain. ‘’Holy fuck! Why do girls do that to themselves? That shit hurts.’’

Once Aaron had semi recovered from his waxed leg, Moyo took Robbe’s place and spun the spinner, going for a second round.

‘’Okay, Broerrrs, let’s start.’’ Moyo rubbed his hands together excitedly, watching as the arrow circled around and stopped on a color. ‘’Right foot on yellow.''

Again, Aaron didn’t seem to get the rules of the game and used the yellow in Jens’ part of the mat. ''Aaron, what the fuck? This was my yellow,''

Robbe and Moyo laughed as Aaron removed his foot and chose another one. Someone,please, help this child...

After a couple rounds, their asses were in the air, resembling the downward-facing dog position. While it was semi-comfortable position, the next move wasn't.

''Left hand on green.''

Jens, being taller than the other two, was able to reach the green circle. He grinned as he watched Aaron and Robbe struggling. By some miracle, they reached a green circle as well and the game continued.

The next to fall was Robbe, toppling over and causing everyone to join him on the floor. A hot pepper was presented to him and he had to take a bite. There were tears pooling in Robbe’s eyes at how spicy it was. He was not able to feel his lips for the next two rounds.

Moyo managed to crack his pants in the third round, making a move he probably shouldn't have. Despite the clothing casualty, it was gonna be good laughing content for the vlog.

Then, Robbe accidently put his foot on Jens’s hand and Aaron was caught cheating. He swore he wasn’t aware of the ‘only hands and feet are allowed on the mat’ rule, but the boys decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, not wanting to start an argument.

This was, certainly, a memory to tell.

Friday, January 10th

Jens’s bedroom door creaked open, pulling him from his sleep. As he woke up, the echoes of his parents' screaming match became clearer, informing him that his dad was home. It’s been like this since December. Jens’s dad had been working at the same office for over fifteen years and, when his boss felt the company’s sales going downhill, he was one of the unlucky employees who got fucking fired. Fired.

Sighing, Jens rubbed his eyes, prying them open, and saw Lotte's standing figure at the foot of his bed, waiting expectantly. It was dark, but he could see the purple giraffe plushie she was holding to her chest. He glanced at the time on his phone: almost 1am.

Sitting up, Jens scooted closer to the wall and lifted his comforter, making room for Lotte. She quickly crossed the floor and crawled under the covers.

‘’Are mama and papa getting divorced?’’ she asked in a small voice.

Jens’s heart sank at her question. He shifted and wrapped his arms around her, fuzzy pajamas tickling his skin. He didn’t know what to say, what to do - he didn’t even know where she’d learned that word. At her age Jens didn’t know what divorce was, less wonder if it was going to happen to his parents.

“Don’t worry Lotte, everything’s going to be okay.’’ His arms hugged her tighter, hoping it would reassure her a little...hoping he was right. He knew that hearing their parents fight so frequently was affecting her more than him, but he didn’t realise just how much more.

His skilled hands were under Jana's top, thumb grazing over her unpadded bralette, making her nipple harden. She arched her back as they kissed, trying to create friction between their bodies.

They had escaped to a free bedroom minutes ago, seeking the intimacy and proximity that they couldn't allow themselves in the middle of the party.

This bed wasn't near as comfortable as Jana's, but it did the job for their mid-party make out session. A better choice than the bathroom, at least. In here, no one would bang on the door and yell about needing to use the toilet.

A moan left Jana's lips as Jens kissed down her neck, her bitten fingernails scratching at Jens's back under his tee shirt - why was it still on? Jens smiled smugly, remembering his ex-girlfriend’s body and its reaction to his touch like they never broke up the year prior. Some things just can’t be forgotten.

The loud music echoed inside the room, Travis Scott’s latest hit playing. It wasn’t really a song to bang to, but they weren’t the ones in charge of the playlist, were they?

Jana hooked her leg around Jens’s waist, fingers grasping the sheets as he kissed his way down her stomach, knowing exactly where this was going. ‘’Jens…’’

Readjusting his hoodie, Jens ducked out of the bedroom he was in. His hair was probably still messy from Jana running her fingers through it. He pulled out his phone, texting Moyo to ask where they were, in the mood to smoke a joint. Nothing tasted better than a blunt after a blowjob.

At least, at the moment.

‘’Got lucky tonight?’’

Looking up, Jens recognized the new guy at school. Lucas, was it? He was standing in the hallway, red cup in his left hand, leaning against the wall as he raised his eyebrows suggestively, a smug grin on his lips.

Jens frowned. ‘’Uh?’’

‘’I saw your girl leaving the same room and adjusting her shirt a minute ago. Not that I was stalking you. I was just...there, I guess,’’ he explained, bringing his cup to his lips, taking a slow sip.

‘’Oh, you mean Jana?’’ Jens shook his head, correcting him. ‘’She’s not my girl. Not anymore.’’

Lucas hummed, interested in the new information. ‘’So, you’re the kind of guy who fuck with his ex?’’

The question took Jens by surprise. He blinked. Did he hear him right? Who was this guy to assume things about him?

‘’What? We didn’t-’’

‘’Clearly, something happened in there and, by the look of your lips and messy hair, no talking was involved,’’ he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively again before holding his hand out. ‘’I’m Lucas.’’

‘’Jens,’’ he replied, shaking the other boy’s hand.

Before they could carry on with their party small talk, someone hooked their arm around Jens’ shoulder. ‘’There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Robbe disappeared with Sander and Aaron is sucking faces with Amber.’’

“Here I am,” Jens said, laughing at Moyo’s comment about their friends. “Did you get my text?”

Moyo shook his head, a questioning look on his face. ‘’No…’’

“Do you have the weed?”

“Ah, yes.” Moyo replied, pulling a joint out of his pocket and handing it to Jens, who took it gratefully. ‘’Want some?’’ he asked, nodding at Lucas.

‘’Normally I’d say yes, but I actually should be heading home now.’’ Lucas raised his eyebrows, blue eyes on Jens. ‘’See you around, Jens.’’

Moyo was distracted by someone behind them talking and Lucas took the opportunity to wink at Jens, before walking off and leaving the other boy baffled.

What. The. Fuck.

#jens stoffels #jens's season #wtfock #lucas van der heijden #vds #van der stoffels

166 notes · View notes

spectralarchers · 4 years

Text

Joe and Nicky didn’t exactly count on taking a break from the Old Guard, but after Andy had gotten injured in their last mission and had needed hospitalization for a longer period of time, well... Nile had told them to take a break for a year or two, just enough time for Andy to get through rehabilitation and get her strength back.

(It had sucked to watch her in the hospital bed, pale and weak, her who had always been worthy of the Old Gods).

But, nonetheless, Joe and Nicky have found themselves in a little seaside villa near the French Riviera town Cagnes-sur-Mer in southeastern France. Mostly because, as Joe had put it “Anything but Nice or Cannes, please!” when they had been looking for something near the Mediterranean, and Nicky had said “Nothing in Italy, please!” so they’d found a solution that fit both of them.

There was lots of beaches they could take long walks on when the sun was beginning to set, there wasn’t too far up to the mountains (they liked to go into the mountains to the little town of Lucéram, which has many ecclesiastical and medieval monuments and altarpieces of Ludovico Brea, an Italian painter of the Renaissance, who came from Nicky’s native Genoa).

It was during one of their walks down the seaside, a quiet August evening, that they’d first seen the dog. It had been following them for a little while, and when they’d decided to cross the asphalt between the beach and the little seaside restaurants, they’d had to stop and make sure the dog didn’t get hit by a car as it followed them. It disappeared while they were having dinner at the Restaurant L'Azur, a Brasserie whose owner they’d grown fond of during their first nights here.

(The owner had taken them as tourists who were here for the summer, and they’d appreciate that nobody was asking questions whenever they came in every single night for their dinner).

The next night, as they’re walking past the beach again, and up to the Restaurant L’Azur to get their usual dinner, they see the sandy grey colored dog sitting by the pedestrian crossing, tongue lolling and eyes scanning people walking past her, the dog’s head following the scent of people as they go by. Nicky sees the dog first, pointing at it with a finger. Joe lets go of Nicky’s hand as the dog’s ears perk up towards them and it closes its mouth, expectant.

“Are you waiting for us?” Nicky asks in French with the slightest Italian accent (he’d never get completely rid of it), and the dog’s tail starts wagging. Looking left and right before crossing over to the side of the restaurant and towards the dog, Joe and Nicky look up at one of the waitresses from the restaurant who is looking down at them. She shakes her hands visibly.

“We tried to get her to leave, but she just came back to sit right there. Christopher considered calling the SPA*, but I said to wait until you came back, she seems to like you two,” the girl said, before turning back towards the table she had been supposed to wait on. Nicky stops up in front of the dog - she - and smiles as she opens her mouth and her tail starts wagging a little bit more enthusiastically.

“So, what do you-”

“No, Nicky, I know that look, we’re not-”

“But, she’s been waiting for us, Joe. We can’t leave her here.”

Joe sometimes wishes Nicky didn’t have the bluest puppy eyes himself, because half of the time, Nicky only gets away with things because he has eyes as blue as the clearest ocean. How could he resist them?

“Fine. We’ll go to a vet and see if she’s chipped, okay?”

The dog must figure out that something is happening concerning her, because she lifts her head as they both walk up the little steps to the restaurant and find their usual table. She tentatively stops at the entrance to the terrace, only too aware that she’s usually not welcome. Nicky exchanges a glance with the waitress - Virginie - who nods. Nicky, tapping his thigh and calling on to her, motions the dog towards their table. It takes her a couple of minutes and a couple of different languages to get her to lie down at their feet.

“So, she’s not chipped. What do you want to call her?” the officer from the veterinary says as they’ve brought the dog in for a check-up. She’s looked everywhere for the little subcutaneous microchip, but there hasn’t been any response to it. “I have to sign her up in our system, check if she’s gotten all her vaccines and all that,” the clerk continues.

Joe looks over at Nicky. “It’s your dog, you decide.”

Nicky, shrugging, holding a newly bought leash in his one hand, the dog at the other end of it in a nice blue collar, looks over at the clerk, before looking back at Joe. “I mean, we found her as we were walking under moonlight,” he starts, and Joe can feel it coming from a mile away.

“Luna would be a good name,” he says in Italian, and the clerk understands the name without asking, because she starts typing it in, after repeating it.

“How the hell could she not know that we meant Luna, as in the moon, and not... Loonna? It sounds like the Oompa Loompa’s little sister or something,” Joe says, as they’re walking down the beach again, Loonna on the end of her leash, apparently happy and satisfied with herself.

_____________

Okay, so the Restaurant d’Azur is a real place, and Loonna is a real dog, up for adoption at the Société Protectrice des Animaux of Montpellier in France. I got utterly uninspired and decided to go look for a real animal instead of making one up :)

#yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #joenicky #the old guard #solrosan

15 notes · View notes

1b-rainstorming · 4 years

Text

“ heavy and hard is the heart of a king. ”

Written for Kaibara Sen’s birthday, June 12th.

Word count: 1175

Kaibara is ten meters away when he sees the casualty, five meters away when he sees who it is, two meters away when the realization fully hits. His boyfriend lays in a pool of his own blood, a gaping hole ripped through his hero costume, and it doesn’t take for his feet to find their way next to him. “I…” Rin laughs feebly. “I fucked up.” Kaibara realises it’s the first time he’s heard him swear, but he doesn’t dwell on that thought for long. The metallic scent of blood grows stronger the closer he gets to him. “You did your best.” He removes his support guards, dialling in the emergency number he never thought he’d have to use so early in his career. “Does it hurt to breathe?” His breaths come in odd sucking sounds that definitely aren’t normal. “A little,” he admits, his strength slowly fading as Kaibara investigates the wound. “The villain escaped.”

“Don’t worry, I figured as much. Welder and Oxygon are on it.” He keeps the medics on the line, just in case of any sudden developments in his condition. “They’ll be here in three minutes. Do you need anything while you wait? Anything.” It’s a silly question— of course he needs help, and urgently— but he wants to feel useful. He doesn’t want to risk touching him with his dirt-caked hands, nor does he want to agitate the wound by moving to somewhere else. In simpler terms, he’s afraid. So afraid. Kaibara’s hands are made to break. They spin with the intensity of a 18 volt drill, stronger if he wills it to. He’s trained himself to shred flesh apart with a simple touch of his hands. Tsuburuba thinks it’s inhumane. Awase thinks it’s hot. Rin thinks it’s a necessary evil. He doesn’t really care what the others think, though. It’s his Quirk, his drawbacks, and his regrets to carry for the rest of his life. If he were not a hero, would he be the one watching as life drained out of Rin’s body with no remorse? Would he shed a tear at a life he knew nothing about? He does not know, and he fears the answers of the unknown. Rin’s grip is slack around his ankle, but he feels it nonetheless. “Do you… need anything?” His voice is barely a whisper, drifting through the alleyway. “Come on, sit down, we can talk about it.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. In the heat of the moment, he’s forgotten all about Rin’s injury. His mind screams at him for forgetting, but all that comes out is a low groan. “I don’t need you babying over me, Rin.” The last words are spat out in a momentary haze of rage, swallowed into the gloom of the silence. In the distance, he can hear a crow screech. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t.” He hums, but with his injury, it sounds more like a low whistle. “Okay. Whatever you say.” The sound of sirens fill the air, and Kaibara’s glad he has an excuse not to talk to him. From the looks on Rin’s pallid yet determined face, he’s thinking the same thing. The ambulance pulls up less than a minute later, medics moving as quick as possible. One of them pulls Kaibara aside for some questioning, and he provides answers the best he can. Rin is seventeen years old, turning eighteen in a month. His blood type is A. No medical allergies to his knowledge. He also has no idea how long he’s been bleeding out for. The questions all mix together into mush in his mind, and when the officer finally asks if he would accompany him to the hospital, he nods mutely and is promptly ushered onto the ambulance. There’s action all around them as medics rush about the cramped space, handing each other wordless instructions and medical equipment. They’re in an oasis of their own, however. Serene, untouched, almost tragic. Rin answers a few questions asked by the staff and Kaibara sits on a cushioned bench next to his gurney. Their gazes meet briefly, but pull away like magnets of opposite poles. Kaibara doesn’t really care about the hustle and bustle, really. All he can see is Rin, his boyfriend, smaller than he’s ever seen him before, lying on a gurney with an oxygen mask on his face and medical tape across his wound. He leans forward, taking a limp hand into his own despite complaints from the paramedics. “You’re going to be alright.” His voice is low, almost thundering against his weak heartbeat. “It’s all going to be alright.” His apathetic gaze falters temporarily, amber eyes glassy and unfocused. “You promise?” Out of the corner of his eye, Kaibara can see a paramedic shake her head furtively at him. He’s not going to make it. “... Yes. I promise.” The short, even tones filling the ambulance slow down, barely keeping up with Rin’s wheezing breaths. “We should go out, when all this blows over. We’ll go to that seaside restaurant near Takoba, the one Kosei likes so much, and then we can take a walk on the beach together. We could even swim if the weather isn’t too bad, but I don’t want you all catching colds.” He’s rambling, running his mouth off, and he hates there isn’t anything he can do besides that. Rin is silent, motionless, before a pitiful whimper rings out. “I don’t want to go, Kaibara.” His fingers wind themselves around his own like tiny snakes, the startling coldness of his skin sending chills down Kaibara’s spine. It takes a bit for him to realize he isn’t talking about the beach. His throat hitches. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re here, with me.” Kaibara’s steel grip tightens on his wrist, and it takes a soft cry of pain from Rin to bring him back to his senses. “Shit, I love you, you can’t just- you-” Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he’s quick to smudge them away before they fall. Rin smiles, his consciousness flickering on and off. His voice is genuine as he voices his words. “I love you too.” For a second, the room seems to be devoid of the soulless beeping, but Kaibara soon realizes it’s the opposite.

His body reacts quicker than his mind does, a hoarse voice screaming for a medic, someone, please— but they’re already on the gurney, working their healing Quirks and pulling out apparatus Kaibara’s jumbled thoughts can’t make sense of. He watches with blown-up eyes as they tamper with his slack muscles, the gaping wound on his chest preventing the use of more traditional resuscitation methods.

After what seems like an eternity, the paramedics back away with grim faces, and he doesn’t need to be a professional to know their answer. They lay thick blankets of condolences onto him, but he doesn’t hear them. He’s gone, just like the hero in front of him. Lost to the winds.

He never really got to say sorry, did he?

#mod rain #class 1b #kaibara sen #sen kaibara #rin hiryu #hiryu rin #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction #trigger warnings:#injury tw #blood tw #gore tw #death tw #character death tw #ask to tag

23 notes · View notes

themostexpensiveboningknife · 3 years

Text

2020

Failed party, money in drawer, communicate, move house, move boxes, drive in van, walk to shops, buy noodles, think it’s the end, see whole bus of soldiers in Beijing, new area, walk in darkness, think about leaving, leave, think its temporary, in taxi, post stupid photos, check and check again phone, think people with goggles on my plane are over reacting, take off my mask to eat, keep taking off to loosen, arrive back in London. Tube. Cold. Pub. Party at WeWork. Exhibition at Dulwich Gallery. Farringdon. Drugs and drinks. Brockley, South east London. DJ. Ethiopian food. Morley’s Peckham. Walking on the River. Photographer friend’s house. Canal cycle. National Gallery. Car crash, Dalston. Omar Souleyman. Corsica Studios. Meet girl, back to my friends, back to hers, sex. Morning up to mum’s best friends birthday, Covent Garden restaurant. In a van, Sunday roast. Chisenhale Gallery. arebyte Gallery. Getting worse in China, seems nice and easy and calm in England. Camberwell beers and more. Second-hand book shops, Charing Cross Road. Courtauld. Leafed through a book about a man who lived his entire 86.5 years in East London. Still talking to the same girl back in China. Both believe I’ll be back soon. Chicken wings. West London, meal. South London pub. DJing somewhere inside. Kent, see grandma. Rave, Bermondsey. Friends from Israel and Germany arrive. More drinks, more drugs. Mixing friends. Gay bar in Bethnal Green for old friend’s birthday. Acid, confused and hilarious. Tate Britain. Serpentine. Cranes on the bridge. Liverpool Street film screening. Feels shallow, but good. Begin regular E Pellici sojourns. Primrose Hill with Dad. Beer festival with Keaton and co. Peckham, school friend’s house, bad vibe. More drinks, more drugs. Working on first music compilation with Slowcook and Fafa. Begin watching all of the Studio Ghibli movies. Watching Breaking Bad. At some point have huge argument with my brother, it went like this: He came home from work and I was sitting watching Breaking Bad, he asks, “Have you been like that all day?” I either took it in the wrong way or picked up on a sly dig. It was probably me, but at this point I was pretty self-conscious and worried about going back to China and whether or not I would have a job back there. Was getting surprisingly pissed off with my brother mentioning his work, felt like an affront to me. Weird. He goes crazy (he has a short fuse), punching a wall, ready to fight me. My mum is pretty upset. A few days later I go into his room and try to patch things up. Turns into a deeper chat. He feels like I haven’t been a good brother to him, he gives the example of not looking out for him on his first days of school. I say I’m sorry, it’s because I’m a bit scared and insecure. In retrospect I regret a little laying so much weakness on the table, seems his interactions/ways of acting around me have changed a bit. Still not sure how I feel about it all. Considered getting a gold tooth with Matthew. Play with cats, enjoying them more and more. Rave in Dalston, good music from Asia and beyond. Looking at magazines. Not doing much work at all. Being out and about instead. Go to Norfolk. It’s beautiful, but get way too drunk on first night, sick everywhere, wake up naked in sick. Massive fucking shitshow. Majority of people there have no choice but to act weirdly around me now, which is understandable. Still some nice aspects. One girl there surely hates me a lot. Tate Modern. Art stuff by self is good. Corsica Studios, semi-art, semi-music event. Mr. Bao for first time of many. Radio in Tottenham. Take drugs. Pubs. Drive to Asda with brother to stock up on food. It’s March and the reality of the pandemic is hitting. More canal cycling. First and only group chat on Zoom. BH Funk. Probably have taken cocaine and messaged one of three or four girls numerous times by now. If there’s one, in the cold light of day, horrible and disgusting thing I’ve done too much this year it’s this. Incessant messaging of poor girls that I know will react (although increasingly they don’t, I manage to alienate even close friends in this way). Southbank and The Mall with Nick. Reading about Wuhan. List of good texts. Continuing to do some writing. Making WeChat posts for guī WeChat, including mix series and miniessays. Greenwich park with Matthew. Grime quiz online. Delivering food regularly for my mum’s school. Hackney Marshes with Luan. Epping Forest with Mum and Dad. By this point probably have woken up feeling sorry for myself in Ludo’s flat, after untold amounts of alcohol and cocaine. Online rave. Beijing artists only mix. Go to Switzerland, pass through Italy on the way. Its breath taking, the mountains, the expanse of scenery, not used to it. Climbing up mountains with no one around. Rolo and Patrick and Rita smoke too much weed. I really, really, really still hate smoking it. Feel a bit annoyed how long we spend sitting around while they smoke, but this is way outbalanced by the uniqueness of where we are and the beauty all around. Producing more and more, actually getting somewhere. Cooking more and more food. Reading more and more, like: Black and British, The Corrections, Real Fast Food, Bass, Mids, Tops, Zadie Smith, Olivia Lang, Graham Greene, JG Ballard, Monica Ali, Mo Yan, Jenny Zhang, John le Carre, Naked Lunch, Nabokov, Bukowski, Zora Neale Hurston, Wiley, Bitcoin, Murakami, Judith E. Butler, The Painter of Modern Life, Maupassant, Chekov, Video Art, Gravity’s Rainbow (couldn’t finish), Anaïs Nin, The Net Delusion (couldn’t finish), The Establishment and how they got away with it (couldn’t finish), Roddy Doyle, The Secret of Scent, General Intellects, Women In Love, The Intelligent Investor, Lyndon Johnson. Victoria Park more often than I can remember. To Chrissy’s house. Mile End Park. Very regularly sitting on the river in Wapping. Bring the chessboard and play Ludo sometimes, people smile and look at you differently when you’re playing chess and drinking beers versus just sitting and drinking beer. I May Destroy You. Industry. The beautiful wide expanse of Hackney Marshes. My incessant quest to reach 1000 followers in Instagram. More cycling, and I hate to say it but it really was: Here there and everywhere. Margate with my Dad to see my grandma in hospital and saw the Turner Prize exhibition. Light blue like scrubs, the sky and sun felt eternal. Swimming in dirty water. Make a DJ mix of old 2000s Road Rap. Eat cheese in Peckham. Cycle along the canal north, keep going and going through Tottenham, past Enfield keep going, it’s mad how quickly it becomes quiet fields on all sides, arrive to some kind of lake, swim and then back to the centre of town. Outside a Hawksmoor church in Shadwell ate chicken with Karim and Ludo. DJing. From my bedroom window saw a big crane in the middle of the night sitting on the canal. Begin developing the second DCCY compilation this time with BULLY magazine. Go to a house in an old school in Camberwell. Discover new secret riverside spots in East London. Finally give up my apartment in Beijing. Mile End park. Cycle further and further East to a pedestrian bridge I didn’t know existed. Get onto the beach and into the Thames water. Interview Akito. Begin writing more, after few months of wiling away the summertime. My friend Emmy gets married in Rwanda, I give him some money as a wedding gift which he tells me he used to buy his wife’s dress. Protests in HK always on TV. Get more into finances, crypto and trading, and just saving in general. Had sex with an old friend. Now meeting a girl I first knew years ago in Beijing. More secret river spots. Keaton has his baby, Noah. More times on Hackney Marshes. Barbican conservatory. Watching more films, try to watch all the films of some directors including: Jia Zhangke, Bong Joon-ho, Edward Yang, Wong Kar-wai, Apichatpong Weerasethakul. Decide to watch all of the infamous lauded series, go through Breaking Bad, The Wire and The Sopranos. Go to the seaside for a few days, camping also. Henry Wu album launch in a car park in Bermondsey. Go to visit Keaton’s baby for the first time. Good photography exhibition at Photographer’s Gallery. Go to Wallace Collection again. August. Go to Berlin. Swimming in Berlin lakes until I get an ear infection. It makes me drowsy and lethargic, but still seems to spend all my time cycling around the city. On one night cycle for hours to a rave on the outskirts of the city. Like a lot the abandoned airport in Berlin. Oh yeah, vaping. Found a dead bumble bee. Speak with Nevin about projects. Write a piece about the future of the art world for a magazine being started by Nevin’s friend in Canada. Go to Lithuania. Walk around Vilnius, get too drunk by myself. Get to the Curonian Spit and Nida, beaches and new friends. For the Nightlife Residency project. For a short while life is like on a desert island of new food, new people, new locations, quiet and new meaning. Go to the Russian border on the beach. Cycle to the road boarder and get stopped by the police. Go nude on the beach for the first time. Sauna, sand dunes and forests. DJ out for the first time in ages, this time with Nono. To Kaunus and try nice and stodgy Georgian food for the first time. Hackney Wick back for party. Meet a ginger girl online and go on a date. Wallace Collection again. Free beer and pizza. White Cube. National Gallery, Titian. On BBC Radio London with my Dad. Riverside beers. Saw a lost swan near my front door. Meet Keaton near his work, one of many times. Making more and more music, getting better. Decide I need more organisation and clarity, put everything I’ve done on a blog. More or less long since given up on my job at M Woods. But don’t really begin looking for anything new because it’s still sunny. At some point I start getting benefits money. Go to see La Haine in the cinema. Someone blocks me on WeChat because of me. Some pub somewhere. Sunday walks and breakfast with my parents. Go to an exhibition in Woolworth Road with Muzi. Realise how nice it is to run to Victoria Park along the canal. Vicky Park in general. Dinners at friends’ houses. Museum of London. Walking with Michael in some countryside near London, surprising how quickly things turn green. Break onto a pier in Wapping with Jack. Battersea Park. Tate, Bruce Nauman. Old Street Weatherspoon’s with Keaton, drugs. Central London cemetery. Chinese in Camberwell. Chinese in Aldgate. Italian in Camberwell. More and more exercise, running, weights and yoga with my brother. Sadie Coles. Nick, Central London. Gucci Mane. Hampstead Heath more because Ludo and his flatmates are nearby. Ludo’s now house more for days and nights of you guessed it. Borough Market more, with Emma. Alexandra Palace walk and famous sandwiches after. Tate Britian new lights. More time at Muzi’s. Signing up for cycle courier. LYL Radio show. Shave head. Take acid and it hurts my stomach. Camden Arts Centre with Muzi. Christmas party with friends. Birthday. Cake with Muzi, presents and Indian takeaway from family, walk in Vicky Park with Ludo and Karim plus battered sausage and chips. Christmas at home nice and warming meal. Evening to Ludo’s place with more friends. Boxing day with Matthew, pints and then more at his house in Peckham all night long. Next day is tough! Giant turkey sandwiches, turkey soup, turkey curry. Buy first NFTs. New Year’s Eve stay in at Muzi’s, one drink and a cake.

2 notes · View notes

alarriefantasy · 5 years

Photo

Halloween Fic Rec 2019

Demon

Trade Mistakes by ifancylou, Taayjaay

Words: 3k

Harry summons a crossroads demon without realizing that he'd be giving up his soul in exchange for the deal. He offers the demon something a little different instead.

Demons by CarlyLovesLarry

Words: 4k

or where Harry is a demon and Louis is a hunter, and Harry fuck Louis into oblivion

Sealed With A Kiss by ty_madison

Words: 6k

Harry has been having dreams about a boy, every night since he turned sixteen and everytime he has opened his eyes in the past the boy has disappeared. But now he is awake, the boy is here and he has a deal to make with the innocent Harry.

Paper Planes by cathedralhearts

Words: 7k

Louis sold his soul to the Devil when he was sixteen, tear-stained and miserable, grief wracking his body as the doctors told him his mother had days to live. Lucifer prefers to go by the name Harry, wears Louis’ soul around his neck as a pendant, and spends the next five years following him around.

Shadow Holding Me Hostage by scribblewrite

Words: 26k

Harry's a demon, basically the king of hell and the source of all evil, and he needs an heir. Louis's a normal human, unsuspecting of what's in store for him.

The Devil's Angel by lilacsweaters_ivorylilies

Words: 86k

Ezekiel 28:13 - For Lucifer has been in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone was his covering, the sardius, topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, and the jasper, the sapphire, the emerald, and the carbuncle, and gold: the workmanship of his tabrets and of his pipes was prepared in him in the day that he was created.

Fantasy/Supernatural

got me losing every breath (i'm latching onto you) by kissingiscool

Words: 14k

(or an au where louis is a fairy with a fear of thunderstorms and a talent of knitting and harry is a vet with three cats and a lot of love.)

A Love So True You Don't Have To Be Afraid by homosociallyyours

Words: 14k

In a world long ago but not so far away, where true love is valued above all else, Louis and Harry have already found one another. Their lives are shaken by the arrival of Simon, whose heart is more than a bit shit, and who longs to sow unhappiness.

When Louis is changed into a dragon and Harry is the knight meant to vanquish him, it would appear that Simon has succeeded. But love wins, every time.

Waiting For Someone Who Needs Me by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 17k

AU: Harry is a genie, and Louis doesn't think he needs anything.

The Prince Of Light by jacaranda_bloom

Words: 35k

Louis was found abandoned at a hospital at six months old and adopted by an older couple who raised him. Now twenty, he studies by night and by day works as a live-in au pair for a family with three little girls. One of the girls, Holly, swears there is a Garden Fairy coming and eating treats she leaves out in the cubby house each night.

When the family goes away for a two week holiday, Louis is secretly tasked with feeding the Fairy. While laying out the food one night he falls from the cubby house and is found by Harry. Harry is different and Louis is fascinated. But as Louis learns how different Harry really is, he discovers his own true home and a very surprising past he never knew.

Cue badgers, bananas and cookies, soulmates, a whole other world, and a future he’d never imagined.

like cabbages and kings by you_explode

Words: 60k

When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland. There were rabbits wearing waistcoats and talking cats and ridiculous tea parties, and amidst all the absurdity, there was a boy. A boy with dimples, big green eyes and the sweetest soul Louis has ever known. Louis has always kept a place in his heart for that boy and for his funny dreamworld, and when he’s twenty-five and his life falls apart, it turns out Wonderland might not be so imaginary after all.

there's no fair in farewell by we_are_the_same

Words: 218k

When Harry and Louis, two Cupids who have been bringing people together for decades, are tasked with making Soulmates Liam and Zayn fall in love, it proves to be much harder than expected. But maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Ghost

The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson by HelloAmHere

Words: 31k

OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

Close to Nowhere by angelichl

Words: 34k

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

you look so good in blue by patdkitten

Words: 20k

Or: Harry Styles hears about a perfect flat from his roommate Zayn's boyfriends and decides to sign the lease. The only problem is: the flat has a reputation for being haunted. It certainly doesn't help that Harry's cat is seeing things as soon as they move in...

The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by BriaMaria

Words: 40k

Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

Tied to Fate by littlelouishiccups

Words: 52k

After his estranged father’s death, Harry inherits a castle in England that has belonged to his family for generations and he knows nothing about. When he breaks up with his boyfriend, Harry decides England is the perfect place for a small vacation. He isn’t prepared to meet Louis Tomlinson, a ghost who once lived in the castle and has haunted it for over five hundred years. He’s even more unprepared to fall in love with him.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore

Words: 102k

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process

Halloween Themed

Trick-or-Treat (Cheer Up) by writingstylinson

Words: 2k

Louis Tomlinson is the single father of a little girl named Finnley, and they’ve been living in Holmes Chapel for a year. This Halloween is the first one they will be celebrating without Louis’ younger siblings or his own mother. It’s because of this that his daughter, who is usually outgoing and fearless, starts to have some worries about going trick-or-treating alone with her father.

Then Louis comes up with the perfect solution.

This is Halloween, everybody make a scene by allwaswell16

Words: 2k

When Louis takes his son trick-or-treating in a stormtrooper costume, little does he know by the end of the night he will end up gaining a Luke Skywalker, a Chewbacca, and a Rey. He doesn't mind the additions, and if Rey's very hot dad wants to come along as well, he doesn't mind that too much either.

this kitten's got your tongue tied in knots by ballsdeepinjesus

Words: 3k

[it's halloween, harry is a kitten in a tree and louis is a (fake) firefighter.]

A gold and green Halloween by Tita

Words: 8k

Harry and Louis are strangers who, dressed as Drarry, compete on a Halloween couple's costume contest. It's exactly as much of a mess as it sounds.

Black Cats Steal Hearts, Not Souls by SLD24

Words: 9k

Harry finds a kitten in a pumpkin patch the day before Halloween but it turns out not to be a kitten at all.

Horror

All The Songs That You Sing In The Dark by pukeandcry

Words: 10k

What happened was that first people got sick.

What happened after that was that they died.

But the worst thing was what happened after that. After they died, they came back.

The Skeleton Key by photo41

Words: 18k

Harry Styles, a good-natured nurse living in Manchester, quits his job at a hospice to work for Violet Winston, an elderly woman whose husband, Ben, is in poor health following a stroke.

When Harry begins to explore the couple's rundown mansion, he discovers strange artifacts and learns the house has a mysterious past. As he continues to investigate, he realizes that Violet is keeping a sinister secret about the cause of Ben's illness- and tries to convince the Winston's estate lawyer, Louis Tomlinson, that he really isn't going insane.

Loosely based off the movie of the same name.

Insane by prideinlou

Words: 20k

Or in which Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are two dim-witted, drunk teenage boys that take a Halloween night dare too far, and end up in a life or death situation in the clutches of a haunted mental asylum.

Will they make it out alive... or will they go insane?

Mermaid

seaside improvisation by tinyweirdloves

Words: 6k

[harry is a mermaid who has lost his tail and he lives in louis's bathtub for a month.]

at least as deep as the pacific ocean (i wanna be yours) by writtensoul

Words: 9k

louis is the very entitled prince of the seven seas!! harry is a goofy sailor boy!!! a lot of hijinks ensue involving slippery mermaid tails and happy fun little sea creatures!!

Define Dancing by asphodelknox

Words: 20k

Death has a way of making certain things crystal clear. After Jay’s death, Louis returns to the summer cottage he always considered home. Unbeknownst to him, he’s also returning to the merman who has been his best friend through everything and finds that maybe there’s a chance for more.

Don't Let the Tide Come and Take Me by kiwikero

Words: 28k

Or, the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

Still Deep In Us by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 41k

AU. The village Harry has called home his entire life sits on six shaky legs, held aloft from the ocean which claimed the entire world twenty years ago. Harry's just a grieving tinkerer trying to do his best, and Louis is a mermaid that ruins The Village's delicate balance of power (and perhaps, just maybe, wins the heart of a boy).

Pirates

Captain Harry Styles... And The Faerie by spaceboyharry

Words: 8k

“You have today been defeated. Remember this forever as the day you were bested by Captain Harry Styles.” Louis zoomed past, shouting “AND THE FAERIE!” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “And the bloody faerie.”

must be something in the water by hattalove

Words: 3k

They all remember, somewhere deep down, why they gave up everything they had for the Mermaid.

The last vestiges of kindness and bravery and everything that is good in the world are on board that ship. Louis’s heart is on it, moored by some nameless jetty.

In Your Black Heart (Is Where You'll Find Me) by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 35k

Louis Tomlinson has been lying for five years. His crew sees him as a pirate, a Captain, and an alpha; only two of those are the truth. He was content to let the illusion go on forever, but an omega named Harry Styles just had to join his crew and get his warm-vanilla stink all over Louis' best laid plans.Or: the story of The Captain and The Carpenter.

Si Pudiera Volar by messofgorgeouschaos

Words: 68k

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazon Salvaje.

Vampire

Call Me the End of Your World by captainsftlouis

Words: 3k

or, the vampire AU where Louis is addicted to vampire venom, and Harry is addicted to Louis.

Waiting On You: A Christmas Drabble by emma1234

Words: 5k

On their first Christmas Eve as a couple, Louis and Harry decide it would be a great idea to exchange one special gift with one another to mark a new tradition. Of course, things never go as smoothly as they planned.

I Wanna Do Bad Things With You by lesbianphrodite

Words: 7k

Harry goes to his favorite pub with the intention to drink and feel bad for himself after a terrible break-up. Instead, he ends up hitting it off with a handsome vampire.

Forever And Always by jacaranda_bloom

Words: 25k

OR the one where Harry’s neighbour is a crotchety old witch who hates vampires, Niall is the unsuspecting human who ends up inhabiting Harry’s body, and Louis is the caseworker who is assigned to swap them back. How it ends up a love story is anyone’s guess.

we should open up (before it's all too much) by disgruntledkittenface

Words: 43k

Struggling with grieving and depression since his dad died, Harry has never felt so alone. It’s too much to cope with on his own, but he feels like a burden when he tries to open up with people.

Then he meets Louis.

For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry by amomentoflove

Words: 49k

Harry is cold. His bones ache. Every movement draws a whimper from his cracked lips. The stone underneath him is practically like ice. He’s numb, but can clearly feel the sharp pains on his neck every timeHe visits him. Below the icy cold, the achy bones, and the pain on his neck, Harry Styles is pissed. There’s a fire burning in his mind and the anger for the man who keeps him imprisoned is the fuel. He despises him, the man who feeds from him and is a daily reminder that Harry’s suffering won’t end. The man who keeps Harry so weak that he can barely move most days. Harry’s waiting for the day when his owner will go too far and finally kill him. Death must be better than this cold hell he is in.

It won’t happen, though. He has a way of keeping Harry’s heart beating. So for now, all Harry can do is wait for death to come.

He’s been waiting for years.

Witches

what's inside your imagination (is as real as anything else) by suspendrs

Words: 3k

Or, Harry's a witch who likes to pretend he's a human pretending he's a witch, and Louis's the human in a not-so-clever costume that keeps catching his eye.

A Kind Of Magic by mellagreens

Words: 12k

Louis feels the urge to tell Harry he's in love with him.

Spellbound by lovelarry10

Words: 22k

Louis’ a shifter. Harry’s a witch. The only problem is, they’re hiding those things from each other.Will they be able to keep their secrets hidden at the most spooky time of year?

Call It True by abrighteryellow

Words: 48k

With dreams of being a successful novelist, Harry’s been working so hard that he almost doesn’t notice the smoothie shop that just opened down the street. But he can’t miss the mysterious, irresistible boy who works there, nor the strange but entirely positive effect his drinks seem to have. Harry needs to know what’s going on and he wants to get close to Louis, though not necessarily in that order.

A Spell and A Spark by dinosaursmate

Words: 73k

Louis is a teenage witch, living and attending university among mortals. He has to keep his secret whilst studying on both his degree and his witch's licence. His friends don't suspect a thing, even as spell after spell goes awry.

Our Place By The Moon by PearlyDewdrops

Words: 108k/WIP

Or: a late 90's urban fantasy AU in which Louis wants to befriend the strange boy next door, Harry is just trying to keep his family together, and falling in love is most inconvenient for a witch that may have accidentally reignited a centuries old curseꟷone that kinda messes with that.

#this is long #whoops #halloween fic rec #larry fic rec #larry fics #larry stylinson

167 notes · View notes

charmingturkeysandwich · 4 years

Text

“Hope at Christmastime”: A CS Secret Santa Gift

Merry Christmas from your CS Secret Santa, @thislassishooked! I hope you’re enjoying a wonderful holiday season. From our exchanges, I decided that I wanted to do something from Killian’s POV that incorporated lights and decorations. And for some reason, I felt very strongly that I wanted it to be somewhat canon... so here you have it!

This is a season 1 mostly compliant one-shot in which Killian is a fisherman in Storybrooke, and he meets Emma and Henry a few times. Intrigued and oddly hopeful because of Emma’s fiery spirit, he embarks with her on a Christmas quest for bringing about joy.

It’s not pure fluff and leaves some to the imagination, but I felt like it stayed true to their kind of dynamic. I really, really hope you enjoy!

I know I’m a little early, but I’m sick as hell and worried that tomorrow I might not be conscious, so here you have it on Christmas Eve Eve :)

@cssecretsanta2k19

---

It was an odd feeling, being half in love with a woman you’d practically just met. But it had been years, decades, lifetimes, probably, since Killian Jones had encountered such a fierce, witty, engaging, interesting, and bloody gorgeous woman like Emma Swan.

He’d been living in Storybrooke, Maine… since forever, really. His brother had been in Storybrooke General since his accident years before – still alive, of course, but the doctors continually warned Killian against having any kind of hope that their lives would ever return to the normalcy of Granny’s for breakfast in the off-season and hard work lobster fishing the rest of the year.

It wasn’t just that Emma was the liveliest woman he’d met in ages, she was simply the liveliest being, as if she somehow was part of a totally different, vibrant world.

Storybrooke was… fine. It was safe. He made a living. The people were well enough – he enjoyed talking with Miss Blanchard, the teacher who often read to the coma patients in her spare time. Archie was kind and generous, if not a little bit condescending at times, but his dog was sweet and always made Killian smile. Even Dr. Whale was all right – understanding about the phantom pains from the loss of Killian’s hand that he couldn’t even remember.

But Emma? She was pure magic.

Rumor was she was the mayor’s son’s biological mother, and little Henry had dragged her from her home of Boston to Storybrooke because he was so damn miserable. It made sense. Regina Mills was possibly the least nurturing person he could think of in the whole of Storybrooke, and no one ever really understood why she decided to adopt a child. Henry was wonderful, though – Killian had always thought so. Precocious, inquisitive, kind… many traits he can now attribute to nature versus nurture.

The fist time he spoke with Emma happened to be while she and Henry were walking along the pier one afternoon. Emma’s brows were stitched together in worry, her voice low as she spoke to her son, the boy clutching a large children’s book and never breaking eye contact with her. It felt intrusive to even witness the exchange, but alas they were in his way, and there wasn’t much he could do to avoid them when he needed to get all of his supplies back to his ship without somehow losing another limb.

“Excuse me, love, Master Henry,” he mumbled breathlessly, twisting to the side to pass them by without knocking either of them in the head with something large and possibly rusty (when was the last time he’d gotten a tetanus shot? Did they even offer them at the hospital here?).

“Hi, Mr. Jones!” Henry called excitedly, rushing past his mother and following Killian onto the Jewel.

“How’s your day going, lad?” Killian asked after hefting the pile of supplies onto the closest surface. The boy looked happy, as usual, but seemed to have an extra glint in his eye.

“Henry, what the hell!” Emma shouted as her boots stomped onto the ship, her blonde curls now mangled from the seaside breeze.

“Don’t worry, I know him! This is Killian. He’s Captain Hook.” Henry said it so matter-of-factly that it didn’t even cross Killian’s mind to be offended about the possibly jab at his handlessness. The way Henry was talking you’d think he was just reading from a biography.

“Kid, what did I tell you about that? Operation Cobra is for you and I only, and, like I said, it might be time to take a little break from it.” Emma’s eyes were full of concern, genuine worry for her boy, but also fear. He knew that well enough from his vague recollections of the accident(s) that scarred him and rendered his brother near lifeless. What was she so afraid of?

His attempts to quell her worry were for naught, as she wasn’t about to trust a single hair on his body. “Love, the lad and I are great friends, aren’t we Henry?”

“I’m not your love. And Henry shouldn’t be running on board the boats of near strangers when I’m hardly trusted to keep him breathing let alone keep him from being kidnapped by Peter Pan.” Emma snapped.

“Mom, he’s Hook, not Pan,” Henry corrected, his tone that of an exasperated teenager despite the boy being no more than ten or eleven.

“I don’t care who he is, I’m not letting him be the reason I’m never allowed to see you again, Henry! You know if your mother knew that you ran onto some dude’s boat who apparently you thought was a pirate under my watchshe’d have me jailed. Again!”

“It’s actually a ship here, love,” Killian couldn’t help himself from pointing out, his amusement at her fiery attitude entirely inappropriate for what was clearly a very strong emotion she was experiencing. But it was simply so foreign to him, a person having… feelings. Beyond despair, anyway.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Mo-om,” Henry chastised, though it wasn’t clear if he was offended by her language or embarrassed that she wasn’t quite a fan of Killian’s… sass.

(Killian hadn’t remembered a single other moment in his life where he’d said something so… unfiltered. Damn.)

“My apologies, love, I’m not sure what’s come over me. I’m usually much more polite. Henry, we all know your mother – Mayor Mills, that is – would look for just about any reason to throw this lovely fireball out of our town permanently. Emma is right to worry. Now how about you two go about your way and I’ll show you more about fishing the next time that Regina approves it?’”

“So, never?” Henry mumbled, rolling his eyes and walking toward the gangway. Emma turned to follow him, but Killian wanted one last chance to apologize.

“I really am sorry, love. I can’t imagine you’re having an easy go of it here in Storybrooke and I just wanted… well, I just wanted you to know that there’s at least one more person on your side than you thought.”

Emma finally looked back at him, incredulous, and Killian suddenly felt quite naked. Reaching to scratch behind his ear, he clarified: “Me, I mean. I’m also on your side.”

She rolled her eyes yet again, but a spark came alive in the smirk she shot back at him. “Good to know, pirate, but I’m not your love.”

From that day, he’d had numerous minor interactions with the Mills/Swan duo. He saw them at breakfast at Granny’s one morning, and Emma refused to so much as look at him, while Henry excitedly told him all about the website he’d used to find Emma (he glossed over how he stole his teacher’s credit card, a fact that Emma still appeared to be quite peeved about). The following week he saw the two of them at the playground that Killian passed on his way to his ship. He re-introduced himself to Emma, as she was yet to actually acknowledge she knew his name, but she only responded with some variant of, “OK Pirate,” which had led to her and Henry laughing like fools for at least five straight minutes.

About a week before Christmas, he finally ran into Emma without her son, and while he’d thought that was something he was hoping for – an opportunity to get to know her without her hiding behind Henry – he realized something awful. That fiery spirit in her – the one he so admired – was dimming. This town, it was getting to her. Was she doomed just like the rest of them to live forever without a happy ending? Or even a happy middle? Was this safe, sweet, seaside town nothing but dashed hopes and broken dreams?

“Uh, Miss Swan?” he asked, cautiously approaching the bench she was sat on, her blonde hair whipping in the breeze, her hands tucked tightly into her flame red jacket.

“What,” she called back, not even looking at him.

Even their non-conversations previously had been some type of banter, some kind of force in his dreary life, but today, she seemed defeated.

He didn’t know much about the world – didn’t really care enough to participate most days – but wasn’t this seasons supposed to be the one where you believed even more strongly than ever that everything might just end up being all right?

“Can I sit?

“It’s a free country.”

“My purpose in sitting with you is to speak to you, and while I could talk at you, I’m actually hoping you’ll talk back. Is that a reasonable wish or shall I keep on moving?” With great effort, he kept his voice light and teasing, when in reality his heart was breaking right along with hers. From what he understood about her life, Henry was new to it, but had nonetheless become its center. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have had hope dangled in front of your face only to possibly have it snatched away.

Instead of snapping back at him, she slowly lifted her head, swept her hair to the side, and patted the seat next to her. “Why would you want to talk to me?” she asked, her eyes once again trained on her feet.

“You look like you could use a friend.”

“I don’t have any friends.”

“You could. I’m here,” he offered.

She exhaled deeply, shaking her head and gripping the bench at either side of her legs. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I have no right to Henry… I had him young and gave him up for his best chance. And, as usual, I was wrong. And as usual there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’m fighting a losing battle. It’s not like anyone can defeat Regina.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’ve certainly gotten under her skin.”

“Yeah, making it all worse for Henry. I’m just being selfish here, aren’t I? Wanting my son back because he says his rightful mommy is an evil queen? I’m sure that’s something a lot of kids his age feel. I just… I just wanted to be wanted, I guess.”

Killian let his right hand graze the back of hers as he shifted slightly closer to her. When she didn’t flinch away, he allowed his hand to fully rest on hers, squeezing ever so slightly.

“You’re not making Henry’s life worse by being here. Believe me, Emma. I know you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but I have eyes. Henry has always been a bright spot in an otherwise lightless town, but since you’ve arrived it’s like he’s a whole new kid. Confident, excited, hopeful. And don’t discredit what you’ve done for everyone else. Miss Blanchard seems happy to have a roommate. Ruby loves when you visit with her at the diner. Granny seems to think of you as a surrogate granddaughter. Our world was black and white and you brought us color, love.”

The shock in her eyes at his words was enough to both warm his heart and enrage him – it’s not as if he was saying anything that should be surprising to her. Who in her life had made her feel so worthless and how soon could he stab them through the heart with his hook?

You know, if he had one.

But her shock wore off as a bit of mirth seemed to take its place. “Now, I can’t take credit for all of that. Granny likes the money I spend. And Mary Margaret… let’s just say I’m not the one fucking her, so I’m definitely not the reason for the extra smiles.”

“Miss Blanchard!” he gasped theatrically, clutching his heart and hamming it up.

“Oh yeah. You might be the native here, but I know all the secrets, friend.”

“So tell me another.”

“Hmmm. Granny’s lasagnas are frozen.”

“No!” This time he was actually shocked. That crazy loon…

“Oh, yeah. And her nonfat pizza crust? Definitely still has fat.”

“That’s it. I’m calling the health inspector.”

“You know, we don’t have one. I think you’d have to call the sheriff,” she chuckled, flipping her hand over on the bench so her palm was against his.

“Hmmmm, think I have an in with her? I’ve heard she’s a spitfire.”

“I don’t know. Depends on the day you approach her. I’ve heard she has mixed feelings about you, Jones.”

“Oh, so you do know my name,” Killian teased, adjusting the fringe around his hat with his stump.

“I tend to remember the people who try to annoy me to death,” she deadpanned, but he caught the ghost of a smirk at the corner of her lips.

“What if, insteaed of annoying you to death, maybe you let me help you?” Killian offered, absolutely no clue what exactly he could offer her when she wasn’t wrong about the futility of fighting with Mayor Mills.

“Hey now, I’m no damsel. No one saves me but me,” she said, pulling her hand from beneath his and tucking it back into her jacket.

“Easy, love. I’m well aware that you’re more likely than any other person in this god forsaken town to actually have some success at anything.”

“You been reading Henry’s book?” Emma turned fully toward him for the first time since he sat, her cheeks red and her eyes dancing with cautious amusement.

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure. Why?”

“Well. According to his book, I’m here to save everyone. Bring back the happy endings.”

“Oh? And where exactly have they gone?”

“The Evil Queen – Regina, actually – has ripped them from you. But I, the daughter of Snow White (Mary Margaret) and Prince Charming (the former coma patient she’s been banging) am the ‘product of true love’ and therefore can break the curse.”

“Damn, you should sell that shit to Disney. You’d make a fortune.”

“Hah. Maybe I should. It’s about the only way I could ever afford to fight Regina the real way, you know with lawyers and money and not … magic.”

It struck him at that moment how true Henry’s story actually rang. Sure, there was no way it was actually real, but hadn’t Killian himself thought countless times how full of life Emma was, how she seemed magical in a world of nothing but ordinary hopelessness? Even if he didn’t believe Henry’s story… scientifically, or what have you – he believed it in his heart.

Emma might not be an actual princess, but she definitely had the power to save. And he’d do anything he could to help her.

“It’s the season for magic, you know?” Killian pointed out, gesturing vaguely toward the wreaths haphazardly hung on the lampposts that led back to main street.

“Are you going to help me achieve a Christmas miracle, Killian?” She reached back toward him and took his hand, squeezing as her eyes sparkled with a plan.

“I’m damn well going to try.”

Together they stumbled through the slippery streets toward Granny’s, armed with an idea and the hopes that Ruby would facilitate their ridiculous plan to bring Henry as much joy as possible, even if Emma couldn’t directly be involved.

“So, you’re telling me you want me to let you decorate the shit out of this place, just so Henry sees it?” Ruby questioned, her one eyebrow nearly touching her hairline, her face so skeptical.

So Killian jumped in. “Listen, Ruby, you know damn well fighting with Regina never ends well. We just have to give the kid some hope. Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.”

“Are you sleeping with Mary Margaret now, too, because damn that girl gets around.”

“Ruby!” Emma shouted, smacking her on the arm.

“What? Have you seen him? If Mary Margaret isn’t taking her chance with him and you’re not interested, then hello sailor, fancy taking me for a ride?”

“Ruby, fucking focus yourself. Can you help us? And by help us I mean literally offer free decorating service that will likely increase your tips?”

“Oh, fine. For Henry.”

“For Henry!” Emma and Killian repeated, scurrying off to whatever store they could find that carried Christmas lights, tinsel, blow-up polar bears, and any other kind of purchase-able holiday joy.

Once they’d filled three whole carts, they rolled them back to Granny’s, sat down to sip hot chocolate until close, and then went to town, covering every surface with glittery tinsel, jingle bells, reindeer, elves, and pretty little lit-up presents. Killian borrowed a ladder from the short pharmacist so he could string icicle lights across the courtyard outside and Emma filled the big windows at the entrance with those giant bulb style lights of all different colors. At some point after 2am, Ruby texted Emma that the electricity bill was going to be something she’d have to take up with Granny, but Emma just laughed and Killian said he’d pay it and they kept decorating until about 5am when Granny appeared to start baking in preparation for the morning crowd.

“I’m not even going to ask,” was all Granny said to Killian as she entered her now Christmas paper-wrapped front door and Killian’s heart definitely grew two sizes or more when his eyes traveled over to Emma, carefully arranging the Hallmark Disney castle on the ledge next to the table that Henry and Regina often sat at when they stopped there before school.

It was a losing battle they were fighting, Killian was sure of it – nothing in Storybrooke ever led to winning for anyone who wasn’t Regina Mills. But one look at Emma and all he wanted to do was keep fighting, keep trying, keep hoping that one day their world would be full of happy endings again.

Someday.

#cs ff #cs secret santa #keisha writes #this is a gift

65 notes · View notes

lokisgame · 5 years

Text

A Generous Donation [15]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12] [part 13] [part 14]

"You're not fidgeting," Scully said, slipping her arm under his as they walked up the path to her mothers' house. "Your mom isn't that scary." "You're the first one to say that." "First what?" "Boyfriend." She smiled looking up and seeing his grin. "When was the last time you brought a guy to meet the family?" "Don't ask." "Okay, now I really want to know." "Mulder!" They took the three steps to the front door and he drew her closer into his side, grinning wide. "Tell me!" He teased, but she rang the bell and the a second later the doors stood open.

"Charlie!" Scully smiled, stepping inside and hugging her brother. "You're just in time." "I thought we're early," Mulder smiled as they shook hands. "Here, that's on time, if you're on time, you're late." "What if the time isn't set?" "Then whoever's last, is late." "That's mean." "Don't listen to him," Scully laughed and pushed her coat into her brothers' arms. "Emily!" "Hi, Aunt Dana." The girl smiled, kissing Scully's cheek then came and did the same with Mulder. "Grandma sent me to tell you dinner's ready." "Dana, Fox," Maggie came in, wiping hands on her apron, "good, you're here." "Hi mom," Scully hugged her mother then linked her arm through Mulders' again, "this is Mulder, not Fox." "Of course," Maggie laughed and took the flowers he brought. "Thank you for the invitation," Mulder said and taking a step back to Scully's side, he found her hand, waiting for him, fingers lacing together. "Let's agree that from now on, you're not just invited, you're expected." "Mom," Scully sighed, "we just got here." "Who's hungry?" Charlie said, comically cheerful. "I'm hungry," Emily chimed in. "You're always hungry," he laughed. "Will would understand me," she pouted and turned on her heel, clinking buckles and creaking leather. "He'll be back, before you know it." Scully said and followed, pulling Mulder along. "And you'll fight for the best bits." "Once he's back, he can have them all." "He might want that in writing," Charlie chuckled. "Then he will have to go through my lawyer," Emily laughed and walked through to the dining room. Scully followed and paused, clearly surprised by the amount of food on the table. "You didn't say we're redoing Thanksgiving," she said. "It's just a dinner," Maggie replied taking her usual place. "It looks delicious," Mulder said and pulled out a chair for Scully. "Come, sit down and enjoy."

Scully leaned against his side, playing with her wine glass. That was by far the nicest family dinner he attended, though admittedly, his own family gatherings didn't set the bar very high. He felt full and content enough to doze off on the couch, and that was the best feeling he could imagine right now. Charlie took the end of the couch while Emily sat on the floor, trying to lure Stubb from her grandmas' lap. The feather on a stick got nothing but a twitch of whiskers from the ginger cat, who true to his name, missed a piece of his tail, but like his book counterpart, retained his good humour despite the feline misadventure. After rubbing on all shins and collecting all due pats and scratches, he settled in his mistresses hands. "Tell us about your family, Fox." Maggie said from the armchair by the fireplace. "There's not much to tell," Mulder said, "my father worked for the DOD and died in '95, mom stayed on the Vineyard after they divorced and there she died, in the spring of 2000." "I'm so sorry." "It's okay. After my sister disappeared in '73, we sort of started to live on our own anyway." "That's horrible," Maggie said appalled. "It's ancient history. I go out to the island once a year, to visit the graves and make sure the house still stands." "You have a house on Martha's Vineyard?" Scully asked. "Usually I rent it out, saving a week or two for myself in the summer." "I'll remember that," she said, sipping her wine, "it's always nice to get out of town for a while." "Consider yourself invited," he said, drawing her a little into his side, then looking up, "that goes for all of you." "Can I book two weeks right now?" Emily asked opening her arms for the cat, who finally decided he wanted the toy more than a nap. "I'll pay, obviously. "Don't be silly. I'll email you the number for my realtor and let her know she should expect a call. It's always open for family." "Thank you," she said and grinned, picking up the cat to look into his green eyes, "Uncle Mulder." Maggie and Mulder laughed, but Scully levelled a glare at her brother. Charlie shrugged almost imperceptibly and took a sip of scotch, ignoring her frown. "We should all go together, a family vacation," Emily said, looking up at Scully, "Will would love that." "Small steps, Em," Scully said, "we'll see if he's up for it." "Any ideas for Christmas?" Charlie asked. "Haven't thought about it yet, if his results keep improving, they might loosen the quarantine procedures, but is it worth the risk?" "He will have to come out of there, eventually," Mulder said. "Christmas happens every year," she said a little sad, "Will happens once in a lifetime." "We'll think of something," he sighed. "Is everything okay, honey?" Maggie asked. "Sure, I just had a long day, that's all." "You wanna go home?" Mulder said softly, dropping a kiss on her temple, but she shook her head lightly. "Not yet," she said and handed him her glass, "I'll just rest my eyes for a minute." "Okay." The conversation flowed around her, touching Mulder's childhood on the island, the house and his travels. Some stories she heard and some were new, especially ones from his Oxford years. All the while, Mulder stayed as warm and relaxed as ever, as if he always belonged there. And when he and Charlie realised, they both traveled to New York to see Red Sox play against Yankees in September, she realised, he not only belonged, but became one of them.

They came back to her place, somehow feeling that that's the right bed to end the day in. "You want tea?" She asked, when he helped her out of her coat, ever the gentleman. "Will there be rum in it." "No rum, sorry." Mulder followed through the living room, and caught up to her by the sink, where she filled the kettle from the tap. He put his arms around her, pulling her back to his front. "Then we'll have to think of something else to keep us warm," he said against the side of her neck, "beside tea." "I don't recall you having any trouble with that," she teased, leaning against him. "You're my great inspiration," he chuckled, but let go when she moved to set the kettle on the stove. "I need to shower first," she said, turning and pulling his face down for a kiss. "Can you do this?" "So it's me making the tea?" "I really need to pee." That made him laugh. "Go, I'll take care of this," he said, kissing her again. "Thanks."

She left him to roam free around the kitchen, pulling out mugs and her favourite Earl Grey. He found lemon in the fruit basket and sliced it in half, little thing he knew she liked, and while he waited for the water to boil, a picture on the wall caught his eye. It was a simple landscape scene, seaside sunset in orange and purple, but in the foreground, with their backs to the camera, sat Scully, in a sundress and a straw hat, saying something to Will, sitting beside her on the sand. He couldn't be older than five, and God did she look beautiful. The scene radiated love, a sweet and tender moment caught so perfectly, that he almost felt jealous he wasn't there to witness it. There was a date below the picture, July 1996 with initials, CS. The jealous feeling died the minute he saw the inscription, Charlie Scully was a man of many talents. Mulder followed the trail of family portraits captured on various occasions, from birthday parties to Christmases. The kettle whistled when he was looking at a picnic scene, in which Scully fed watermelon to a three year-old Will. His face was pink as was his stained shirt, but their smiles were so vibrant, they made him laugh softly. "What's so funny?" Scully asked from a distance. Mulder turned and saw her come in, wearing a short, silk nightgown under a long, loose kimono. Both very modest, demure even, but the gown had just a touch of lace trim and it was enough to make his knees weak. "Okay, I feel underdressed," he said, as she came closer, barefoot and stunning. "You like it?" She said, puling the midnight blue robe around herself a little. "You might say that." He swallowed hard, watching her take the mugs from the counter on her way, and handing one to him, while glancing at the wall. "Will and watermelon," Mulder said, gathering his wits and gesturing with the mug to the picture. "Oh, that one, we were in California that summer and he really discovered fruit that year, loved it ever since." She took a small sip and looked up. "You want to see more?" "Show me everything." He watched the silk float around her curves and shins, as she pulled albums from shelves and brought them back to the coffee table. She took the first one and folded herself on the couch against his side, filling his space with her warmth. "Before we begin," she said, keeping her hand on the cover, holding the thick volume shut, "please, remember this was early 90's and my hair was…" "Wonderful, I'm sure of it." He finished, taking the album from her hands. First page held a single picture, Scully in a hospital bed, looking up into the camera, holding a little bundle of blankets in her arms. "He was so tiny," she said wistfully, "but there was always something in his eyes, like he knew more than he showed." "That's all you," Mulder said, pulled into this tender scene, "you can make or break someone with one look." "No I don't." "Yeah, you do," he chuckled, turning the page, "but he only got love from you. Look at this." He ran his fingers around a photo, again showing Scully watching Will in her arms, nursing happily, his tiny palm closed around her thumb. "That's love." "He was two months old." "Who took this one?" "Charlie, that's why he's hardly in any picture," she said, leaning on his side, "he's the family photographer." "Here's one." Mulder laughed seeing Scully's brother holding Will in his outstretched arms, little arms flailing and tiny feet squashing his perfect nose. "Why do I find this hilarious?" "Because it is, Will was a fighter, putting him to bed took hours." Scully laughed sipping tea, "only way was to tire him before the bath, warm water calmed him down and he usually fell asleep nursing. Those were the good nights." "And the bad ones?" "Oh, he wouldn't fall asleep for the world, the little night owl. But he wasn't fussy or scared, he just played in his bed, minding his own business." "We would've gotten along nicely." Mulder said, turning the page to more baby and holiday pictures, pausing by a photo of Will holding on to the edge of a coffee table. "Look at him, he's so proud." "End of an era," Scully smiled looking over his shoulder, "after that, I had to have eyes around my head." "He looks like a runner." "He does, but he always loved water best." She pointed to another picture, where they were sitting in a paddling pool laughing, as Will slapped his tiny arms and legs against the surface, sending water splashing everywhere. "A regular sea monster," Mulder chuckled and turned the page to find a photo of Emily, maybe six years old, and Will with his nose and elbows covered in scabs. "What happened here?" "He tried to run," she sighed, smoothing down a corner that got unglued. "He saw Emily walking through the yard and just ran to her." "Poor kid," Mulder crooned. "You'd think so, but he barely cried, he always was a tough cookie." "That's because he grew up watching you," Mulder said not even trying to hide the admiration, "don't underestimate the strength you're projecting, a self-sufficient, capable and independent figure, who also gave him love, care and support he needed. Positively reinforced example." "Sometimes I forget you teach psychology at Harvard," she smiled, kissing his cheek and leaning her head on his shoulder. They browsed through the album, watching Will grow from a wobbling toddler into a small boy. Pictures of first bike rides, country fairs and family trips to Chicago, Washington, D.C., New York. Mulder paused on a picture of Will in a New York Yankees jersey, a classic baseball card shot. "Wow." "What?" Scully said, startled out of her reverie. "I've got the exact same picture," he said laughing under his breath, "I mean, the uniform is a bit different but still, he could be me. I guess all kids look alike at a certain age." "No, that's not it," she said and her tone made him look up from the album and meet her gaze. "Then what is it?" "He's your son," Scully said. For a second he wanted to tease her back, laugh about it, roll his eyes, but though her tone was warm, he saw she was scared. "What?" She shifted a little, staying close while turning to see him. "Remember when I told you how I had Will, after I had a terrible fight with the guy I was with?""He didn't think you can do it," Mulder said. "My friend is a fertility specialist and she agreed to help me with the procedure." "What procedure?" "In Vitro fertilisation," Scully said, holding his gaze, though her cheeks burned and her hands were starting to shake. "I had Will through IVF," then she added quietly, "using donor sperm." Mulder's blood ran cold and he hid his face in his hands. "Oh sh…" "Did you ever?" She asked gently. "I," his voice came muffled, "I did, once. I never told anyone about it." He felt her side pressed against him, arm around his shoulder. "It was supposed to be anonymous." "I contacted the bank and they gave me a few options to chose from." "The blood test before transplant," he said, looking up, "that's how you found out." "Yes," "And you didn't tell me." "I couldn't bring myself to do it," she said quietly, her eyes growing wet, voice breaking, "if anything went wrong, if the transplant didn't work." Tears spilled and she looked away. "I couldn't give you a son, just to take him away." For the first time that night words failed him, but he puled her into his arms, feeling his shirt grow hot as she held on tight. All the conversations with Will were coming back, the pain he felt at the thought this kid might be gone someday, amusement mixed with respect, when he tried to play the matchmaker, wanting to take care of his mother, the relief he felt, when he heard he was getting better, and suddenly, it all made sense. He had a son, a brilliant kid with bright blue eyes and a huge heart. A kid who facing death, cared more about others than himself, honest and kind young man. Could he have done it better? "We have a son." He whispered and felt tears burn down his face. "Why IVF? Couldn’t you just find a guy?" He asked once he found his voice again and once he spoke, she began to relax. "I was crazy back then," she sniffed, snuggling closer, "the thought I'd have to deal with some guy for the rest of my life, someone who might show up one day and ruin what I build for the baby and myself. In my head, it was the worst thing possible." "You could have at least tried," he chuckled, kissing her neck, "maybe we’d meet sooner." "Or we would never end up together. Maybe now, instead of sitting on this couch, I'd be mourning my son, cursing his father, wherever he was." "You wouldn't be together?" "I wasn't ready to share myself with anyone yet, I wanted a child, but that didn't mean I felt that my life lacked." "Unconditional love." "Everyone told me I was crazy, even Charlie." "Really?" "He said, I love you Danes and I'm with you, but this is crazy." "And your mother?" "She thought so too, she thought I should wait, that Daniel wasn't the right man, that someone would show up, who would love me and our child." Scully looked up and cupped his cheek, meeting his eyes with warmth, "she didn't know, I'd have to wait twenty years for him." Mulder leaned closer and caught her lips, feeling them tear-soft and willing. "I still wish you told me sooner." "I couldn't." She sighed, resting her forehead against his, cool fingers scratching at the base of his scull. "If it failed, if Will died because of the transplant, I couldn’t risk watching you go through that." "And if I wasn't a match? Would you leave me one day, without telling me why?" "God no," she pulled him back into a hug, "I love you too much."

#generous donation #x files fanfic #msr fanfic #sweet nothings #AU

101 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years

Note

What are your favorite johnlock fics of all time?

Ohhhh.

Ohhh noo.

Nonny you’re cruel.

Okay so funny story:

Someone asked me this exact thing a couple years ago.

I started a fic rec list offline at that time

Said list kept growing and growing as I decided to start sorting my fics.

It’s now a couple years later, and the list has over 300 fics on it XD.

So you see my dilemma LOL.

I have done a few fic lists in the past along this vein:

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017 )

Ten Fave Short Johnlock Fics (Easy Reads April 2018)

25 Fave Johnlock One Shots (April 2018)

Top 10 Fave Fics (September 2018)

So what should I do today? How about the fics I ALWAYS re-read when I feel like I just need something familiar and oh so delicious? Would that be okay? Fics that I never hesitate to read again? Note that this list will probably change in a few months’ time as I re-read newer fics I’ve recently bookmarked; if I’m in a certain mood, a fic will get added and another removed, LOL. In fact, I’ve had this sitting in my drafts from quite awhile before I finally posted it, LOL. Waited a week, because my “feels” kept changing, HAH!

I have WAY more than 30 of these, but I had to stop somewhere! So here’s the criteria for these ones today:

I’ve read them more than 5 times since I bookmarked them

I read them start to finish, without skipping anything even though I know what happens.

That’s it. It’s just so I can keep my list down, LOL. Seriously, I love SO many fics that this list was HARD to do. Hope you enjoy!

I-J’s TOP 30 READ-AGAIN FICS (MARCH 2019)

The Strait of Juan de Fuca by mightypog (T, 6,400 w. || Vacation, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Canada, Post-TRF, Love Confessions) – Sherlock is back and all seems forgiven, but something is missing between him and John. Their friendship initially appears intact, but Sherlock doesn’t understand why John seems to be slipping away. Finally, in terror, he tries to reconnect with John by taking him to the one place that seems to inspire any emotional interest in John any more: the Canadian wilderness. While there, Sherlock faces his greatest fear.

Fa Subito by kim47 (E, 6,659 w. || Suit Porn, Cockblocker Mycroft, Obsessed Sherlock, PWP) – John wears a suit. Sherlock finds it extremely distracting.

Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb (E, 8,737 w. || Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Stroppy Sherlock, Love Letters, POV John) – Sherlock asks John for relationship advice. Little does he know that it’s him that Sherlock is in love with.

The Emergency Contact Series by blueink3 (M, 11,763 w. across 2 works || 5 and 1′s, Whump, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Caring Sherlock / John, Scars) – The first time John Watson’s emergency contact is called is the first time Sherlock Holmes finds out that he has the job. The first time Sherlock Holmes realizes he needs an emergency contact is the first time he mentally appoints John Watson with the job.

Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w. | Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock’s perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

Speaker for the Bees by antietamfalls (M, 14,649 w. || Deaf Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Sign Language) – It isn’t always easy assisting a deaf detective. Luckily for John, they make a pretty good team.

A Hundred Thousand Ways to Say the Name John by Jberry (E, 16,825 w. || Fake Relationship, Fake Marriage, POV John, Pining John, Cruise Ship, Angst & Fluff) – John Watson and Sherlock Holmes must solve a case on a cruise ship. To get close to the crew and passengers, they must get married for the case on the Baetica. However, their relationship hits rocky seas both due to the case and internal conflicts. Part 1 of Baetica

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w || Post-TRF, John has a Kid) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

Knotted by naughtyspirit (E, 23,166 w. || UST/URT, Cuddling, Sharing Body Heat, Confessions, Kissing, Mastrubation, Frustration, BAMF!John) – John has to cancel a date because of Sherlock’s case, which leads them to be tied up in a basement from which they have to escape. They get wet, get tied up close and John has to step up and save them. Because he’s pretty. And hot. And just a little bit of a BAMF.

Tomorrow’s Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn’t simple.

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w. || Fake Rel., Roadtrips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk.“Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb (E, 32,690 w. || Case Fic, Post S3, Evil Mary, Dev. Rel., Honeymoon, Epistolary, Bottomlock, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Secret Agents, BAMF!John) – John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

LHR-HNL by scullyseviltwin (E, 35,066 w. || Hawaiian Vacation, Post-TRF, Friends To Lovers, Slow Burn, Just Talk Already, Drinking, Mutual Pining) – In need of an endangered flora sample, Sherlock and John must make a trip to an unexpected destination.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara’s American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she’s also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she’s placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Goodness Gives Extras by mydwynter (E, 39,629 w. || Fluff & Angst, Case Fic, Oral / Anal, Humour, First Time, Miscommunication, Snark, Christmas) – Christmas time. ‘Tis the season to settle down with a drink, some food and a present or two, and to enjoy the quiet relaxation of the holiday. Instead, there’s a case that drags them all over, missing presents, disappointed kids, angry parents, and a freak snowfall. On top of that John has to deal with Sherlock, who is being even more of a prat than usual. He really shouldn’t have expected anything different.

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror (E, 42,031 w. || H/C, Injury, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Mary is Not Nice) – When John’s left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she’s about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm.

Left by lifeonmars (M, 45,153 w. || Magical Realism) – John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w. || Casefic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

Triage by scullyseviltwin (E, 51,612 w. || Character Injury, Introspection) – Sherlock’s mind goes exceedingly, devastatingly quiet and gray-blank. When he speaks it’s through a thick haze, it’s through molasses, he’s so disconnected from the words that it may as well be the unconscious shooter speaking.

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w. || Rich Sherlock AU, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Alternate First Meeting) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family’s private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it’s time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Wars We Fought, Things We’re Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w. || Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case) – Five months after John’s world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

Perdition’s Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) – John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w. || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, H/C, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate’s charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #fave fics #Anonymous #fic rec sunday #top fics

1K notes · View notes

seriouslyhooked · 4 years

Text

You Look Good (A CS NYE story)

A/N: Hi everyone! I just want to start by wishing you all a happy New Year! This story is actually one I have been working on for a while, and I had stalled out with writing it. A long long time ago a reader asked for ‘You Look Good’ by Lady Antebellum and I love the song but just couldn’t get inspired, and then today I realized a good way to engage with this song was through also engaging with the holiday. So, this is a CS AU oneshot where Emma and Killian are both on holiday get aways in paradise with their friends. They happen to see each other from afar and… well, you’ll just have to read it to see how it goes. Thank you all for reading and thanks to the very patient reader who suggested this song!

“Now this, right here, is the life.”

The words from his friend Will should have been grating, especially since the rest of the men on this boat were all actually pulling their weight this afternoon on the water while Will was lounging about. But still, Killian couldn’t help but agree.

Being out here on the sea was infinitely better than life in the city, especially in the dead of winter when New York was 25 degrees and covered in ice. There the air was frigid and sharp, and here it was clean, crisp, and glorious. The sunlight that had been gone from the north for so long was out in full force here, and the sand and the waves underneath a clear blue sky were the perfect remedy to anyone’s winter woes.

Even with the frozen temps, at home everything was driven by competition and hectic chaos. Business in New York was cutthroat, something he’d learned as the CEO of his own business. There were no breaks. If you wanted to be a success you worked like a dog and you never slowed down, but out here there was a gentler pace of living that held no less purpose even in its quiet calm. It was easy to get caught up in how much more vibrant the world seemed out in these kinds of open coastal spaces, and how much more possibility floated about in the air out here, but soon enough they’d all head back to reality. That was just the way things were. No matter how much he and his friends may enjoy their annual holiday trip to the tropics, they always returned home, waiting and wishing for the next year to end and call them back again.

This trip was a tradition for the four of them, starting way back when Will, David, Graham and Killian had met in college. David had a friend of a friend of a friend who had a place on a sunny island where summer lasted all year long and the rest was history. Things had radically changed since those good old days, what with all of them having time consuming careers and various responsibilities, but the peace they all found out here on the ocean had never waned. This was a critical time of respite for the lot of them, what with Graham taking time off from his police work, Will leaving the run of his bar to his staff, and David leaving the hospital to the care of other residents. But Killian couldn’t help feeling that each year they were getting closer to the loss of this tradition, or at least a substantial change in the way it came about.

It was only a matter of time before his friends started settling down, and when that day came it was unlikely that their girlfriends or wives would embrace a weeks-long guy’s trip especially during Christmas and New Years. It would no longer be realistic to put their lives on hold for such a long stretch, and Killian understood that. For his part, he would actually welcome such an addition to his life, a woman who would miss him too much to want to be apart at this time of year, but he had to be realistic. So far experience had shown him that finding such a match and meeting a woman who he could truly see forever with was a long shot. It would take a miraculous woman to truly speak to his heart, and only that kind of love would entice him into marriage and the whole happily ever after thing.

“You’ve got that look again, Killian,” David joked and Killian raised his gaze to his best mate who looked smug and all-knowing.

“I haven’t got a look,” Killian responded, prompting David and Graham to laugh.

“Sure you do,” Graham quipped. “The dreamy, brooding one. That one women eat up because they think you’re grappling with the universe’s big questions.”

“Maybe I am,” Killian quipped and after a moment they all laughed.

“Nah you’re just worrying,” David explained. “You’re thinking that this might be our last run out here, and you’re probably right, at least the way we do things now.”

“He’s right?!” Will asked, his genuine concern manifesting as a shriek. It was like a banshee, and the harsh tone was so shrill Killian winced.

“Well, yeah. Next year’s gonna be different. I don’t know about you all, but I’m finding my girl. I’ve got it all planned.”

“You’ve planned it out?” Graham asked with a smirk. “And how exactly did you do that, Doctor Nolan?”

“That’s for me to know and her to find out.”

David’s adamant refusal to elaborate prompted some more ribbing from the others, but it only reminded Killian about how sure and true his instincts were. He sensed that this tide was shifting, and he believed David was right. Not about the having a plan to find the woman of one’s dreams– that was bull shit. There was no way one could plan to find a love strong enough to build a life around. But when he said this year was going to be different, Killian found he genuinely hoped that would be true and that hope carried him through the rest of their afternoon out on the water.

By the time they pulled back into port, docking their sailboat in the marina they’d come to know well, Killian was no closer to answers about what he wanted and when it might come. He tried to take solace in the beauty that was the sky at this time of day, with sunset silhouettes dancing, painting lazy, wayward clouds that hung over this seaside place. The shades of pink and orange and gold could never be recreated back home, but while he appreciated the sight, it did nothing to truly calm him. He was restless still, but he supposed that was normal for the last day of the year, and the final few hours before a brand new start. People had a tendency to get antsy in these final moments, and even in paradise it seemed that was to be his fate.

“Well lads, it’s time for the age-old question – Captain Jack’s or Odie’s Place for New Year’s this evening?”

No one answered Will’s eager question as they got into the jeep they’d rented for the two weeks, and that was likely because they didn’t care. Either place would suit their purposes. They wanted a decent meal and a few drinks to get them through to the new year. Other than that, there was little consideration to be had.

“All right then, driver’s choice,” Will responded, hopping into the vehicle and hardly waiting for any of them to do the same before he tore off onto the main road and raced towards their vacation villa.

Absentmindedly Killian watched the scenery around them, noticing the way the docks gave way to the bustling town beside it. The island was particularly busy this year, a sign that perhaps their secret haven might not be so secret after all. Years ago it felt like they were the only foreigners here this time of year, but alas it seemed to be a new and wide-spread trend. Some people were here with families, others on trips that mirrored theirs, but none of these people really mattered to Killian. At least until…

The first thing he noticed about her was her golden hair, which reflected the iridescent light of the year’s last sunset in an almost ethereal way. It was pulled back, likely from hours spent at the beach, but soft and wavy tendrils hung loose, shielding parts of a face so stunning it made Killian’s heart skip a beat and then another. In the three seconds that they were passing her, Killian swore he took in every little detail of this woman – nay, this vision – memorizing her like she was the answer to his every prayer. Her lithe form, her perfect face, the way the smile she was wearing met her eyes and the essence around her that was light and happy. She was an angel dressed in a yellow sun dress, an impossibly gorgeous woman the likes of which he’d never seen, and in an instant he knew that he’d regret every moment he lived from this point on if he didn’t get a chance to know her.

“Stop the car!” Killian yelled as he finally got his wits about him. His eyes stayed on her as Will braked a bit but kept driving.

“What the fuck -?”

“Pull the car over, Will. Now!”

David’s intensity matched Killian’s and if he were able to think of anything outside this girl Killian would wonder why his friend was so animated too, but as the car slowed down, Killian hopped out of the side, and raced back down the street. She was only a little while back, but this place was packed with people and there were hotels and storefronts all around. She could be anywhere, and the realization that she was lost to him damn near gutted the sense of hope he’d suddenly found.

“What the hell is up with you two?” Graham asked, appearing beside Killian and Killian shook his head.

“I thought I saw her,” Killian confessed and he continued to look out through the stream of people, but she didn’t reappear.

“Saw who?”

“The one.”

“The one?” Graham scoffed. “Wait are you serious right now? This isn’t just some sort of sun-induced hallucination?”

“I don’t know,” Killian whispered, fear clinging to him that maybe that’s what she was. Surely now that he thought of it no one could be so perfect or call to him so quickly. Maybe Graham was right? But then he saw her again, this time across the square from where he was. He started moving towards her, and as if she could feel his attention she stopped, looking at him and halting him in his tracks. God she was incredible. She was stunning and remarkable and every other good thing and when he saw her he forgot to breathe. All he could do was stare and enjoy the rush of adrenaline that came in realizing she was doing the same. She was caught too, snared in by this connection between them, whatever it may be.

“That’s her!” David said and Killian looked over, suddenly feeling very territorial and jealous. It didn’t matter that this was his best friend. This woman was off limits. She would be his, at least he hoped. God did he hope.

“Back off David.”

“Not the blonde, dumb ass, her friend.”

Cursing from David? Wow he must be just as caught up as Killian, and when Killian looked back over to the woman who captivated him he saw she had a girl beside her. She was brunette and petite, with a blue dress and the same beach-ready look, but she didn’t hold a candle to his girl.

“Aw shit, not now,” David groaned and Killian looked to see what he meant. Fuck! The end of year festival was happening, and now a sea of people were swarming in, dancing away the bad of this year and ringing in the new one. It was, admittedly, a very cool ceremony, but only when one wasn’t trying to meet the girl of their dreams. Instead the dancing and the noise made Killian agitated, but he couldn’t get around it, and by the time it was all over and they were free to move again, both women were gone and Killian was left feeling stunned and defeated.

“They can’t have gone far,” David said, scoping out the area but there was no sign of them. Eventually they changed tactics, with Graham questioning a vendor selling flowers down below. Killian listened as his friend asked questions about the girls but to no avail and so Killian did the same at other markets and shops. It was crazy, but finally one woman selling bracelets by the beach drive said she’d seen them.

“They came to look at my wears. Fancied a few pieces too, but said they forgot their wallets back at their hotel. They promised to come back tomorrow and get them. Said it would be their last day at the beach. Usually I don’t believe tourists when they say these things, but they had such honest eyes. Good things come to people like that.”

“Did they mention which hotel?” David asked, sidestepping the woman’s local superstitions about ‘honest eyes,’ and the woman shook her head.

“Nah, love. They did say they had to get back to the north side of the island though and there’s not many places out there. They likely at the resort.”

“Which ones did she like?” Killian asked, surprising the woman. Slowly a smile of understanding crossed the woman’s face and she gestured to a woven bracelet with a golden hue and a swan charm. It was unique, even in an array of one of a kind bracelets. “I’ll take it.”

“And I’ll take whatever else they looked at.”

It was a small consolation in all of this, and again, it defied rational explanation. This was somewhat crazy on both Killian and David’s parts, but hell if he could stop it. He wanted to have a piece of her with him, even if it was something she’d never gotten a chance to have. It felt a bit better to have this tiny trinket, and it was even more miraculous to know that tomorrow they’d be at the beach and were planning to come back here.

“So that’s that then. We’ll just be sure to get out here early tomorrow.”

Graham said the words, convinced that everything was now all set, but still Killian felt restless. Tomorrow was better than nothing. He’d been afraid he’d never see her again only a few moments ago, but he also hated the idea of waiting. Now that he’d seen her and he knew she was out there, Killian was eager to meet this woman who entranced him. She had him under her spell and she’d never so much as said a word to him.

“Captain Jack’s,” David said to Will, confusing their friend in the process. “You asked which bar and it’s Captain Jack’s.”

“If you say so, mate,” Will said as they all filed back into the car.

“It’s on the north side of the island,” David said to Killian and Killian agreed it was the best place. It wasn’t a surefire plan, what with the resort being an all inclusive, and them not being one hundred percent certain they were even there, but it made Killian feel better. Upping his chances of finding this girl was all he could ask for and they were doing just that by going north.

The next few hours passed with painful slowness, and by the time they got to the bar Killian was a bit of a wreck. It didn’t help matters that all of this was uncertain. She might not come, she might not like him, hell she might already have someone. That last though in particular scared him half to death, but he had to believe that his instinctive reaction meant something. He’d never felt this way, losing himself at first sight like this. It would be the cruelest trick of fate if she was taken, and if she could never feel the same… God he hated to even think how much that would hurt.

“I feel like my hearts going to give out any second,” David said standing next to him and casing the place with the same intensity. “I know it’s crazy but… she’s just gotta be here, man. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.”

Killian completely understood, and he was going to try and say some words of encouragement, however half-assed they would be but then something caught David’s eye and his friend’s whole demeanor changed. The excitement that pulsed off of him and the adoration told Killian that she was back and his own heart leapt at the prospect. If her friend was here, surely the girl he wanted was here too, right? But when he looked he only saw three brunettes, and the girl of his dreams was nowhere to be seen. This was upsetting in the extreme, but he waited patiently, knowing at the very least David’s girl could tell her where she was.

Funnily enough, the girl who had caught David’s notice was staring at him with almost the same level of intensity. She gazed at him for longer than strangers should, and then she blushed, and that was all it took for David to start moving towards her. Killian followed, noticing the other two women as he did.

“You think he’s the guy?” one of them whispered. “The one from the festival?”

“Oh totally. Look at her, she’s losing it. I just wish Emma was here to see it. Maybe she’d find her guy too.”

Emma – that must be his siren’s name. He heard it and it just clicked inside of his very being, like it belonged with him all this time. He wanted to say it aloud over and over again, to say it in the heat of passion when he’d kissed her senseless or driven her wild with need. But more than that he wanted to see her again.

“Where is she?” he asked, killing David’s attempt at a smooth first greeting and not giving a damn. “Emma, your friend. She was with you at the beach today.”

“Yes, she was,” David’s girl said. “She’s outside. She said she needed some air.”

Completely neglecting his manners Killian rushed off with only a quick, ‘thanks.’ Outside was a loose description of where she could be. At the front of the bar there were people milling around, but his feet took him to the coast, the place where he would go if he needed space. Out here in the darkness there were yellow lanterns and twinkle lights set up, and the pale glow of the moon, but none of it was needed. For there, with her feet in the waves and her hair whipping in the gentle breeze was his woman, radiating her own kind of light that could never be replicated.

Killian stood rooted to the spot, watching her, for longer than he could really know. Any real coherent thought fled the moment he saw her again. Well, the shape of her really, for in the dark, and from the back like this she was a silhouette, dancing at the shoreline, feet bare and hair flowing in the night’s breeze. Killian didn’t know if the music she swayed to was something she could hear from inside the bar or a melody from her head, but either way he stood transfixed, stunned by not only how beautifully she moved, but how freely she expressed herself. This moment was a snapshot into this woman’s very soul, and it was a happy one, a carefree one that didn’t give a damn about the noise or the buzzing all around them. This girl, Emma, just… was, and Killian couldn’t help moving closer, craving the chance to see this siren’s face.

“Come here often, love?” He asked, his voice carrying across the evening air, the slightest tremble discernable in his tone. Emma, for her part, didn’t even flinch, just shook her head without looking at him, as if he and his question were an afterthought.

“Definitely not as often as you use that line,” she quipped, and he couldn’t help himself. He laughed at her boldness, and he knew she was right. It was a line, but damn if he could come up with anything original. She stole the air from his lungs and the sense from his mind. He was lucky to have uttered anything at all.

“Forgive me, that was bad. Let me try again. Are you interested in a partner, or is this more a solo escapade you’ve got going here?”

Now Emma whipped her head towards him, and whatever he’d felt for her before ramped infinitely. She was a beautiful woman from any distance, but up close that was even more undeniable. Her soft, full lips tormented him because all he wanted was to claim them and see them swollen from his kisses, and the smattering of freckles on her skin spoke to lots of time out here in the sun. Her hair was hanging lose now, curled and silky, tempting his fingers which craved the change to run through it, and the dress she wore now was red and fiery, a complete transformation from the pale, pure yellow of this afternoon. He caught her scent on the air, a hint of lavender and something else he couldn’t place, but her eyes did the most damage, striking him with a blow of recognition and interest he never could have expected.

“It’s you.”

“Aye, love, it’s me.”

“Sorry about before. A couple of guys have come up to me and some of them forget that no means no.”

“Someone was bothering you?” Killian asked, his anger rising as he looked around for signs of dead men walking. Who would dare to bother his Emma? Oh shit, now he was really losing it, thinking of her as his when they’d barely even met. Only the gentle touch of her hand on his arm could pull him back.

“It’s okay, I can handle myself. I’ve been doing it all my life.”

He hated to think that she had to be her own defender, when she should be protected and provided for in every way she wished, but he loved the feel of her hand on him. Even when she removed it, realizing she’d touched him and pulling back with a little bit of embarrassment, he could feel her branded on his skin. And he liked it A lot.

“But how did you find me?” she asked, letting her happiness at seeing him slip when she probably didn’t mean to. “I mean, I saw you earlier, in town, but I thought you were gone…”

He reached out for her hand and she let him take it, creating a rush of pleasure as they made contact again. It emboldened Killian, and it made him feel more alive than anything else ever had. “I tried to find you earlier, but in the craziness I lost you. I admit I thought you might have been a dream. It was hard for me to imagine you could even be real.”

“But now you’re here. How?”

“Fate, destiny, and perhaps a little help from a local vendor.”

Emma’s eyes shone with wonder and he heard her gasp as he pulled the bracelet he procured earlier and presented it to her. “For you, love.”

“I don’t usually take gifts from strangers,” Emma said as he tied the strands of the trinket together, sealing it around her wrist. He smiled at the fact that he hadn’t introduced himself yet. He was forgetting himself, but thankfully, Emma didn’t seem to mind too much.

“My name’s Killian. Killian Jones. And you are?”

“Emma. Emma Swan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma,” he said, meaning it more than he’d ever meant anything before.

“Yeah, you too,” she said and Killian’s chest swelled with pride. He was still holding onto her, his thumb running against the underside of her wrist as he felt her delicate skin. Her pulse beneath him was rapid, matching the beat of his own, and when he looked back up to her, her eyes were on his lips, torn between hunger, intrigue, and still a little bit of wariness. He wanted to kiss that worry she had away, to show her there would be no reason for fear, not where he was involved, but that might be taking things too fast. He needed something, anything, to show her he could be trusted or to give him just a little more time in her company.

At that moment the music changed and the song filtered over the stereo outside was slower and written out of love. It was intimate and seductive, and for Killian it proved the perfect opening. “So, love, about that dance… would you do me the honor?”

Emma smiled at him, setting him alight as she stepped into his arms, fitting like the piece he’d been missing for too long. It felt amazing to hold her close and sway back and forth with her. One song blurred to another, and another, until truth be told he was so lost in her he couldn’t tell how much time had passed. In the meantime they talked, they danced, they got to know each other but not just with words. This was a blending of two souls, and, if his suspicions were right, the evolution of a love at first sight story that would endure long past this trip.

“I can’t believe you live in New York too,” Emma said as they were finally walking back to the party to rejoin their friends. It was nearly midnight, but it felt like no time had passed at all. “What are the chances?”

“I couldn’t tell you that, love, but I will say I’m glad for it.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, her face a little flushed from their closeness. He stopped their walking, pulling her into his arms and tilting her chin up so her eyes met his.

“Aye. It makes the whole asking you out thing a bit more manageable. Not that distance would have stopped me. I’d have made it work, no matter how far away you may be.”

“You want to ask me out?” she asked, her voice hoarse from emotion and her eyes wide at the prospect.

“I want to do much more than that, love. And it’ll be more than one date I’m after, you can rest assured. But it’s a good place to start, don’t you think?”

“Hmm, maybe,” she said before smiling at him and edging a bit closer so her lips were mere inches from his.

“You’re not convinced?”

“Well, I kind of like the idea of starting with a chance meeting, some moonlight dancing, and a New Years’ kiss…”

Growling out his own approval Killian crushed his lips to hers, tasting her sweetness and savoring every bit of it. She was magic made real, and the feel of her on him, chasing the same high and the same bliss from being with him that he got with her was life altering. Lightening could strike them now and he’d never know, not when he already felt so much with Emma. This was the first kiss they’d ever shared and yet Killian knew it would be the last first kiss either of them ever had. This was the beginning of a new forever, and Emma was right, this was the best kind of start their story could have.

“I was thinking the kiss would come at midnight,” Emma said when they broke apart, her breathing ragged and her green eyes darker from the desire she was experiencing. “You know that’s kind of the tradition.”

“So you’re saying we should wait then? No more until -,”

He couldn’t get the words out before Emma was pulling him in for another kiss, and that was just fine by him. And as the rest of the night sped by, and the year changed from the old to the new, Killian was certain that this lucky happenstance would be something much bigger, and that this time next year and every year thereafter he and Emma would still be together and happy and whole.

…………

On a boat, on a beach In the water, in the sand, in the back of a bar Cold beer in your hand Breaking hearts, breaking necks When we rolling down the street, heads turning all day when they see you with me I'm thinking everybody better stand in line 'Cause they need to know that your body's coming with me tonight They're like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Aw baby you look good Black dress, 2 the 9s, New Year's in a pent From the floor, to the roof, make the skyline spin Yeah, you're killing me boy in your black-faded jeans Ain't gotta work hard when you're smilin' at me Like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Aw baby you look good I'm thinking everybody better stand in line 'Cause they need to know that your body's coming with me tonight They're like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Come on baby you look good You look good Baby you look good

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just a little CS insta-love fluff to get us through the end of this year. Like I said, I hope you all have the best end to your 2019 and a wonderful start to your 2020. Thank you all so much for your kindness, support, and friendship this year. Looking forward to next year and wishing you all the best decade to come!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan nye #cs #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs nye #cs new year #emma swan #killian jones #the whole storybrooke gang #cs mixtape #captain swan mixtape #cs au #captain swan au #cs insta love #you look good

25 notes · View notes

xpouii · 5 years

Text

Docthor Day 4: AU Day

This is Day 4 of of Docthor Week by @lostcybertronian

Dr Edward Iplier climbed out of the taxi and pulled his jacket tighter around him. It was cold this close to the coast, and Mythea Asylum backed right up to the seaside. He took a moment to look over the beautiful building, and the few residents milling about the grounds all dressed in white. He climbed the stairs and went inside, cradling his briefcase under one arm. A few nurses ignored him, some even giving him dirty looks, until finally one man stopped and reached for his hand, “Dr Iplier it’s an honor to finally meet you in person.”

“You must be Director Trimmer,” Edward said, smiling, if a little overwhelmed by the man’s enthusiasm.

“Oh please, just Mr. Trimmer. I don’t have use for big titles. You’re early! That’s admirable for someone who’s traveled so far to our little slice of paradise.”

Edward looked around the sprawling entrance hall, nodding, “It’s an old habit, Mr. Trimmer. So, tell me why I’m so popular here already.”

“Oh ignore the nurses,” Trimmer said, beckoning him down a long hallway. “Your treatments and philosophies are new, and most of our nurses would prefer to just tie down patients or send them off for a lobotomy. I’ll personally be glad when the whole practice stops!”

“Well I hear your facility performs a record low amount of them,” Edward said. “Only two last year. That’s almost unheard of. It’s part of the reason I agreed to work with you.”

“Very good sir, very good,” Trimmer said. “I have given you an office on the lower level with an adjacent bedroom. It’s a little dreary, but it’s the furthest away from the hubbub so that you can conduct your work in relative peace. There are three patients in the same hallway, but they’re all relatively harmless. I’ll introduce you once you are feeling up to it.”

“Oh, please, right away,” Edward said. “I’d love to meet my neighbors.”

Trimmer smiled and clapped his hands together, opening a door that led onto a landing with stairs going down. It smelled cold, and wet, but not moldy or mildewed, and Edward liked the space already. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs he stopped to admire the old sodium lights with a smile. Trimmer was patient, letting him sightsee as they went at a crawl down the corridor. “Here is our first gentleman,” he said when they reached a door marked 178. Trimmer knocked smartly, “Wilford! It’s Bim. I have someone to introduce!”

The door was opened and a large, burly man with an expressive face and a vibrant mustache emerged into the hallway, “Well hello! I’m Wilford Warfstache.”

“This is Edward Iplier. He’s our new psychiatrist.”

Edward extended his hand and Wilford shook it. He was strong, and his eyes betrayed his wily intelligence, “Great to meet you, Doc. I hope the nurses don’t run you off!”

Edward chuckled, “Thank you, Wilford. It’s nice to meet you, and they’ve already given me an icy reception.”

“Wilford here works as a custodian on the night rotation,” Trimmer said. “He has grounds privileges and if you’re ever unsure where to go, he’ll get you there.”

Wilford gave a little salute, then returned to his room with a flourish, “He’s great,” Edward said.

“He wasn’t always,” Trimmer said. “He was in a fairly ugly battle in the war, came home and murdered his best friends and one of the men’s wives. It’s truly tragic how those who defend us are often abandoned to their own broken minds once they return home.”

Edward nodded, his eyes lingering on the door as he followed Trimmer on, “Such an impressive turnaround. Has he been-“

“No,” Trimmer said. “No Lobotomy, but he’s had extensive hypnosis sessions and we monitor him closely. Any attempt to break him out of his delusions usually ends in a backslide, but he is completely harmless as long as you play along.”

“Good to know,” Edward said. “I’d like to see him, as a patient if I could.”

“You have access to any and all of our patients,” Trimmer said. “As long as you promise not to break him. I have a bit of a soft spot.”

Edward chuckled, “Of course.”

The next room, 179 was on the opposite side of the hallway from his own, and Trimmer had to knock twice before it was opened. A young woman emerged with a shadowy expression, “Yes, Mr. Trimmer?”

“Yan,” Trimmer said with a gentle voice. “This is Dr. Edward Iplier. He’s our new psychiatrist. Remember I told you that you would be seeing someone new?”

Yan folded her arms, leaning against the doorway, “What good it will do me. Thanks, Mr. Trimmer.” She looked Edward up and down, giving him a stiff nod of greeting, and then disappeared back into her room.”

“You have a teenage girl down in the same hall with-“

“Yan is a very special case,” Trimmer said. “She’s an androgyne.”

“I believe they go by transsexuals now,” Edward said. “So she was born male?”

Trimmer nodded, “I’ve yet to find a doctor who can work with her beyond wanting to cure the one thing that I think isn’t wrong with her. Other than that she has a rather violent attachment tendency. She isn’t allowed around any of the male orderlies or patients her own age as a result, thus why we keep her sequestered with the two gentlemen down here. I do desperately hope you can do her some good.”

“I believe I can,” Edward said. “I’m most certainly willing to try. Alright, who’s next?”

Trimmer walked down another door, knocking gently. After a long moment of silence, the door opened, just halfway, and the patient stepped out. “This is Eric,” Trimmer said. “Eric, this is the new psychiatrist, Dr. Edward Iplier.”

The young man stared at the floor, twisting a yellow cloth in his hands, “Hello.”

“Eric suffers with debilitating anxiety and asked to be sequestered from the general population. He doesn’t feel comfortable in large groups, or any groups.”

Eric glanced halfway up from the floor, head turned toward Edward, “N-new psychiatrist?”

“That’s right, Eric. He’s here for you,” Trimmer said. “And a few others, but I’ve told him about your case.”

“I’m certain that I can help you,” Edward said.

Eric nodded, a shaky, unsure movement, and backed up a step toward his room, “May I?”

“Of course,” Trimmer said. “Thank you, Eric.”

The young man closed his door so softly it barely made an audible sound. Edward cleared his throat, “Fascinating. He seems to be suffering from more than just anxiety.”

“He had a trouble childhood and early adulthood,” Trimmer said. He witnessed the death of almost his entire family, and his father is extremely abusive. He is the one who brought Eric here, dropped him off like a dog at a kennel. This poor man has never been trained to handle social situations, and he still harbors fear and resentment for the things that happened to him before he came. Group Therapy is impossible, and one-on-one sessions don’t work well with most doctors as they just don’t have the patience it takes to treat Eric.”

“I’m confident I can make some leeway,” Edward said. “I’ve worked similar cases in young children, but the symptoms seem to be similar enough. I’m sure I can apply the same actions to get the same results.”

“Wonderful,” Trimmer said. “Now, let’s see your office shall we?”

The room was dusty, but not overwhelming. It had recently been cleaned, as the dust was all in the air instead of settled on surfaces. There was a large, impressive desk, and several empty bookcases. “I’ll have to send for my books,” Edward mused. “I didn’t expect so much room.”

“You’re a bit of a celebrity here,” Trimmer said. “At least to those of us with a vision of the future. I want to take this hospital out of the dark ages. It’s been a staple of my life since I was a child. My mother was a nurse here and my father was a doctor as well. I just want to make them proud.”

“I know they would be already,” Edward said. “This place is beautiful.”

“Every beautiful place has its dark secrets,” Trimmer said. “Speaking of, I believe you’d like to see the isolation ward?”

Edward nodded, “It would be nice to know my way to it. A good deal of my time will be spent there, I suspect.”

“Let’s hope so,” Trimmer said. “That means you haven’t given up!”

Trimmer laughed and Edward smiled, indulging him, eager to lay eyes on the isolation ward, a chance to prove his theories and hypotheses on real violent offenders. It was the reason he’d agreed to transfer from his plush job upstate.

“This is the isolation ward,” Trimmer said. “Patients here don’t ever interact with the general population, and you’ll have to use the consultation room here to interact with them. This is, of course, a large part of why I invited you here. These individuals need our help, more than anyone else. They’re prime candidates for lobotomy if you can’t help them.”

Edward nodded, “I’m guessing I’ll be meeting them through a door?”

“A quick introduction, with names, so you can decide whose files you’d like first. Here we have Dark. Very aggressive and manipulative, but rarely becomes physically violent unless provoked. He has a bad habit of causing the other patients to become violent, and it’s almost impossible to monitor him. He’s smart, smarter than any one of us, I’m guessing.”

The man inside had his hair in his eyes, and a heavy beard, “When am I going to be permitted to shave again?”

“When you don’t threaten to decapitate the kitchen staff,” Trimmer said. “Dark, this is the new psychiatrist.”

“Edward Iplier,” Dark said, standing up. “I heard about you. You’re a modern man. You don’t have that downstairs urge to shove an ice pick in my eye. What a strange personality trait for a doctor.”

“So I’m told,” Edward said. “I look forward to our first session.”

Dark grinned, but it was stilted, more of a sneer, “Oh as do I, Doctor.”

Trimmer slid the window shut over the grate and sighed, “He’s a handful. I’m not sure there’s much to be done for him, but still. He’s very concerned with his hygiene. It’s the only way I can get him to do anything.”

“This next patient is nicknamed The Author. He is responsible for a record string of murders, all described in detail in books he would go on to publish. He’s our little celebrity. He is the most violent, most dangerous man here, and he will not hesitate to attack you. Do not let your guard down. He opened the window of the door, “Stand clear for spit.”

Edward chuckled, all too familiar with these sort of patients. “Hello, I’m Dr. Edward Iplier, your new psychiatrist.”

The man appeared at the window, wrapping his hands around the bars of the window, “Why don’t you come in and we’ll start our session, Edward.”

“Soon, although I’m told there’s a special room for it.”

The Author grit his teeth, “Of course, too afraid to come into my world, are you?”

“I hear you’re a successful writer.”

“I hear you’re a pushover who lets your emotions rule you, and that this asylum is going to chew you up, spit you out and send you back where you came from. I hope I get to kill you instead. You would look so pretty bleeding to death, wouldn’t you? Those eyes wide in panic, blood trickling out of the corner of your mouth while I bathe in your chest cavity.”

“Enough pleasantries,” Trimmer said. “Thank you, Author.”

“Pleasure,” the Author growled, and Trimmer closed the window.

“We try not to indulge his threats,” Trimmer said. “He is very sadistic, and he gets great enjoyment from the fear of others.”

“Don’t worry,” Edward said. “I don’t scare easily. Anyone else of note?”

“Oh plenty of patients, but those are the five I want you focusing on the most. Two of them to save their lives, and three of them to hopefully reintroduce them to society. I think you can handle much more, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I’ll offer some open office hours then,” Edward said. “If any of the less particular patients should show any interest.”

“I’ll let the nurses know,” Trimmer said. “Although don’t expect a stampede at first. You’re going to have do a lot of politicking to get patients outside of the five I’ve handpicked for you.”

“Sure,” Edward said. “Thank you, Mr. Trimmer. I’m going to do everything I can to fulfill your wishes for these patients.”

“I know you will,” Trimmer said, taking Edward’s hand in both of his. “I’m counting on you.” He left then, disappearing into his office, and Edward made his way back to his own room.

The Author stared across the table, pulling against the restraints, testing them. “Are you certain this is necessary?” Edward asked.

The orderly chuckled, and left the room, “Good luck, Doctor.”

“Barbarians,” the Author said. “You see how they treat me?”

“I expect it’s a lot better than you treated those thirty-four people,” Edward said. “But this isn’t a competition of depravity. Id like to talk to you about your mental well-being.”

“No shit,” the Author said, chuckling. “Do you smoke?”

“I don’t.”

“The one fucking doctor who doesn’t smoke,” he growled. “Well, if you want anything out of me. It’ll cost you a cigarette.”

“And I am to hold it to your mouth for you to smoke it?” Edward said, raising an eyebrow.

“Unless you want to unstrap me,” the Author said. “You’re welcome to.”

Edward chuckled, “It says here your father died when you were seven? And that your mother raised you until she kicked you out of the house at fourteen? Was she a prostitute?”

“As you know,” the Author said. “I didn’t only kill women. I don’t have a hatred of women. My mother was a laundry worker, and she did the best she could. She threw me out because I tried to castrate her boyfriend. Honestly, she did me a favor.”

Edward scribbled as the Author spoke, and the patient’s eyes fixated on the pen, licking his lips. Edward glanced up, “Do you like pens?”

The Author glanced up, “I am a writer after all.”

“Of course,” Edward said. “Well, maybe if you decide to stop being violent, or if we are able to successfully control your symptoms with medication, you can write again.”

The author laughed, “Not unless you’re going to give me people to kill. Come on, Edward. Let’s start with that orderly huh? He treated you like a fool. Don’t let him do that. I could use that pen and split his sternum open. I could pull out his intestines and make you a scarf. I’d do that for you, in exchange for the pen.”

“That’s really more of a threat than a deal,” Edward said. “I’m not sure an intestine scarf would go with my eyes. So tell me more about your time on the streets.”

The Author snarled, fighting his restraints with vigor, testing each buckle and strap to its limit, and Edward watched, unaffected as he did so. Finally, he stopped, and his expression turned to a smile, “Well, you can’t blame me for trying.”

“If you decide you want to take this seriously-“

“Oh come on Edward. They’re going to shove an ice pick in my eye and scramble my brains. That’s all they can do. There’s no fixing me. You can’t fix an evil man.”

“There is no such thing as an evil man,” Edward said. “You’re an ill man. You’re mentally unwell, and I believe you could benefit from some of the new medications that-“

“Medications? You trying to dope me up? Make me a drooling ragdoll? I don’t think so. I’m not taking any of that shit.”

Edward cleared his throat, “This is different. Thorazine has been very successful at helping individuals with unpleasant urges to gain control over themselves, and no, once the medication has levelled out you won’t be a ragdoll. There are side effects but that can be handled.”

The Author scowled, “I don’t think you get what I’m saying. I’m not letting you put any pills in me. I want to go back to my room now.”

“We aren’t finished.”

“That’s not your decision!”

Edward smiled, “Actually, due to you being mentally unsound, it is my decision. We can sit here all day and talk about your childhood and each one of your victims and why you did what you did, but you don’t like that do you? Why’s that?”

“What’s to talk about?” the Author muttered. “It’s all in the book.”

“Almost every other serial killer loves talking about what they’ve done. You’re an anomaly.”

“Don’t try to flirt with me now after you already insulted me, Edward,” the Author said. “Listen, I’m a lost cause alright? Just let me go and wait for the pick already.”

Edward sighed, “There isn’t going to be any ice pick. Mr. Trimmer has already made that promise, so you’re going to sit in that cell until you decide to cooperate, or-“

“Or?”

“Until I medicate you without your cooperation. It would be much easier with your input, but I don’t necessarily need it.”

The Author shifted in his seat, looking around the room, “So you really want to give me this stupid pill?”

“More than anything,” Edward said smugly. “If it doesn’t work, we stop right away.”

The Author grit his teeth, staring at the floor, “Fine.”

#docthor2k19 #dr iplier #the author #docthor #fanfiction #wilford warfstache #yanderiplier #eric derekson #Darkiplier #bim trimmer

35 notes · View notes

fanfics4all · 5 years

Text

The Northside Serpent: Part 20

Request: Yes / No

Request are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Sweet Pea x Keller!Reader

Word count: 4591

Warnings: Anything in Season 2 episode 22

Y/N: Your Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

Summary: You’re Kevin Keller’s little sister when you’re mom left to go to war and your dad started cheating (I’m making it so he’s been cheating since season 1) You started rebelling; dying your hair, getting a nose piercing, tattoo, and hanging out on the southside.

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

1, 2, 3, 4,5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19,

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Y/N’s POV

I gasped for air and sat up. A pain went through my body and I groaned. I laid back down and groaned again in pain.

“Dad!” I heard my brother’s voice say. He moved into my field of view and had a relieved smile on his face.

“You’re okay!” He said happily and hugged me.

“Kev!” I groaned and he pulled away.

“Sorry Y/N/N…” He said and I just smiled.

“Y/N?” I heard my dad say and he had a relieved smile on his face too.

“Dad!” I said happily and he got up. He hugged me but was more careful than my brother.

“You’re alive…” He said pulling back and a tear fell down his face.

“I’m alive dad.” I said and he grabbed my hand.

“We thought you were gone…” Kevin said.

“Hey, you think I would leave? Then who the hell would annoy you?” I asked lightening the mood. He gave me a small smile and squeezed my hand.

“Same old Y/N.” He chuckled.

“Honey, you were shot. How could you joke when you almost died?” My dad asked and I sighed.

“Because I’m alive dad. You guys are alive and my friends are alive.” I answered with a smile, he shook his head.

“You took a bullet for one of those Serpents…” He said and I looked down.

“Please, can we not do this?” I asked.

“You could have died and for what? A criminal?” He asked loudly.

“They’re not criminals! They are my friends and they helped me when you were off cheating on mom!” I said annoyed.

“Come on guys, Y/N’s alive can’t we just be happy about that?” Kevin asked trying to stop the fight that was sure to break out.

“Um… are we interrupting something?” I heard Jughead say. I looked over and smiled at him and Betty.

“Actually-”

“No, you’re not. Come on in.” I said happy to see my friends.

“Jug, what happened to you?” I asked when they walked closer.

“Long story, but pretty much I made a deal with Hiram, me for the Serpents safety.” He said and my eyes widened.

“I’m fine, how are you though? My dad told us you died…” He said and I stared at him shocked.

“What?” I asked confused.

“I told him to tell them you were dead.” My dad spoke up.

“You what?” I asked shocked.

“I thought if they thought you were dead they’d forget about you and everything would be fine.” He said and I narrowed my eyes are him.

“So Swee-”

“Where is she!?” I was cut off by the only voice I really wanted to hear.

“Sir you can’t go in there!” A nurse called.

“Fuck that! Where is my girlfriend?” He shouted and I smiled. Same old Sweet Pea.

“Juggie, could you maybe go get him and make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone?” I asked and Jughead laughed.

“You got it Quinny.” He said and walked out. He returned a minute later with Fangs, Toni, and Sweet Pea.

“Y/N!” He said and ran up to me. He engulfed me in a hug, it hurt but I honestly didn’t care. Sweet Pea was in my arms and I couldn’t be happier.

“You’re alive.” He said pulling back and he had tears in his eyes.

“I’m alive.” I said placing my hand on his cheek.

“I thought I lost you…” He said and a tear fell down his cheek.

“It’ll take a lot more to get rid of me baby.” I said with a smile and I wiped his tears away. He shook his head and smiled.

“Don’t you ever do something stupid like that again.” He said seriously.

“I wasn’t just gonna let Fangs get shot!” I defended myself.

“Next time you better! Because if I have to listen to Sweet Pea wanting to die because he lost his world again I might just shoot myself.” Fangs joke and I couldn’t help but giggle a little. His words then registered in my head.

“Wait… You were talking about not wanting to live?” I asked him. He scratched the back of his neck and nodded.

“Without you there’s no reason to live…” He said and as sad as that was, it warmed my heart.

“Pea…” I said pulling him closer to me.

“I love you, but if anything like this ever happens again and I find out you were talking about wanting to die I will beat your ass.” I said which made Toni and Fangs laugh.

“I’m never letting anything like this happen again.” He said and I smiled.

“I love you too.” He added and kissed me. I forgot my brother and dad were in the room and our kiss was definitely more passionate than normal.

“Mmmh.” My dad cleared his throat. We pulled apart and Sweet Pea stood up but still had his arm around me.

“Dad… Can you please not do-”

“You were that worried about my daughter?” He asked and I was shocked.

“Yes sir.” Sweet Pea answered. My dad looked at us for a few moments and sighed.

“You really love each other don’t you?” He asked and I nodded.

“Yes sir.” Sweet Pea answered.

“Dad, I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time that I love him more than anything.” I said and he sighed again. He walked over to us and placed a hand on Sweet Pea’s shoulder.

“You’ll take care of her?” He asked Sweets.

“I’d give my life for her.” Sweets answered.

“Okay, I give you two permission…” My dad said and I smiled.

“Wait really?” I asked happily.

“Really honey, if you truly love him then I won’t stand in your way.” He said and I smiled like crazy.

“Thank you dad!” I said happily and pulled him in for a hug. He chuckled and pulled back.

“Just make sure she’s okay.” My dad said to Sweets and he nodded.

“I promise, she’ll be safe.” He said and I smiled up at him.

I had to spend a few days in the hospital, but after that I was cleared to go back to school. I just needed to take it easy. My dad didn’t want me going back so soon, but I convinced him that I should and after a while of convincing he let me go back. I got dressed in a black crop top, a red plaid skirt, black boots, and a cute denim jacket. For makeup, I put on a red lip, a mix of purple, gray, and red eyeshadow, and I left my hair down and natural.

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple. My brother and dad looked at me and shook their head.

“Honey, don’t you think you should put something else on?” My dad asked.

“Why? My skirt covers my stitches.” I said confused and took a bit of the apple.

“But don’t you think something a little more modest would be good for you right now?” He asked and I sighed.

“Dad, I don’t want to go back to school as ‘the girl that just got shot and almost died’, I want to go back to school and make sure people know that I’m not some girl that won’t go down without a fight.” I said. My brother smirked at me and my dad just sighed.

“Honey I don’t think that’s a good idea…” He said.

“Come one dad, I think it’s fine! Besides, she had the Serpents watching her.” Kevin said and I smiled at him.

“And I’ll watch out for her too.” He added. My dad looked at us and sighed, but smiled.

“Alright, well you two better get to school.” He said and Kevin got up. He grabbed both our bags and walked outside. I hugged my dad and then ran out to meet Kevin. We got to school and went our separate ways. I went to my locker and put my stuff away. I went to my classes and didn’t get to see Sweet all day, it sucked. After school I went to my locker to get my stuff, when Sweet Pea walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me.

“Hey baby.” I said smiling up at him.

“Hey, you look amazing. But don’t you think you should have worn something a little less sexy?” He asked.

“Ya know, my dad asked me the same thing.” I smirked.

“And what’d you say to him?” He asked.

“I told him that I didn’t want people seeing me as the girl that almost died and that I’m a bad bitch.” I said and he smirked.

“And you used those exact words?” He asked.

“Maybe not that exact words but pretty much.” I said and he chuckled. He leaned down and kissed me, but Toni just had to come and ruin it.

“Hey lovebirds!” He called and Sweet groaned.

“Topaz really?” He said annoyed.

“Yes really, we need to go talk to Jughead.” She said and I looked at her confused.

“Oh right…” He said.

“What about?” I asked and they looked at me.

“Why don’t you come with us?” He asked and I nodded.

“Okay.” I said and closed my locker. The three of us walked into the Serpents club room. I took a seat on one of the desk and Sweet Pea stood behind me with his arms wrapped around me. Toni came and stood next to us, Jughead was leaning against the desk.

“So this is how it ends, huh? Not with a whimper, but with a memo from Weatherbee.” Jug said and tossed the piece of paper to the side.

“Huh?” I asked confused and looked up at Sweet Pea, he avoided my gaze.

“Riverdale High is now suddenly overcrowded. So, starting next week, all former Southside High students will be bussed to Seaside High, which is two hours away.” Toni said and my eyes widened.

“Meaning, he blames us for trashing the school during riot night.” Sweet Pea said annoyed.

“Well, to be fair, Sweet Pea, you did.” Jughead said and I looked up at him again.

“You trashed the school?” I asked and he sighed.

“Maybe a little…” He sighed.

“A little? You went on a rampage because as you said, a Northsider put Y/N in the hospital clinging to life.” Toni said.

“You trashed the school because of me?” I asked and he sighed.

“What’s our play, Jones? Do we have one?” He asked ignoring the question.

“I don’t know anymore, guys. I can’t keep fighting for a gang that doesn’t exist.” He said with a sigh.

“Well, what about us? Or any of the other Serpents at the Wyrm?” Toni asked.

“What Serpents at the Wyrm?” Jug asked. Instead of answering him Toni got up and walked out.

“Are we supposed to follow her or…?” Jughead asked and I rolled my eyes.

“Yes you idiot.” I said and hopped off the desk. Toni hopped on her bike, Jughead on his and Sweet Pea on his. I got on the back of Sweet’s and held on tight. He didn’t go as fast as he normally did, which was shocking. We were the last ones there. When we got there they lead Jughead and I inside, we saw a good amount of Serpents basically living there.

“What happened?” I whispered to Sweet Pea.

“Most of Sunnyside trailer park got burnt down…” He whispered back and my eyes widened.

“So you’re living here?” I asked shocked and he nodded.

“I don’t understand.” Jughead said before I could say anything more to my boyfriend.

“You saw what the Ghoulies did to most of Sunnyside.” Toni said.

“A lot of Serpents couldn’t afford to leave Riverdale. So we came here.” Sweets said.

“Does my dad know about this?” Jug asked. Toni and Sweet Pea just looked at each other. Jughead stormed home and I just stayed with Toni and Sweets. I looked and saw Fangs and ran to hug him.

“There’s my savior.” He said with a chuckle.

“You can pay me back over time.” I smirked.

“I owe you so much Quinny.” He said with a smile.

“You trying to steal my girl Fangs?” Sweets asked walking over with Toni.

“Hey, if she wants to be with the better man, who am I to stop her?” Fangs joked and put his arm around me.

“Yeah, why do you think I save his life Pea?” I asked playing along, his face dropped.

“What?” He asked not getting the joke. I shot up and walked over to him.

“Sweets, we’re joking! I would never leave you!” I said and wrapped my arms around him. He laughed and pulled me closer.

“I know you are babe.” He said and I glared up at him.

“That’s not fair!” I said and they all laughed. Toni’s phone rang and she walked off to take it.

“Who do you think it is?” Fangs asked.

“Cheryl, did you see the smile she got?” I said with a smirk.

“Yeah she’s totally head over heels for her.” Fangs said with a smirk.

“We gotta go.” Toni said before anyone could say anything back to Fangs.

“What? Why?” Cheryl just called me, there’s gonna be a raid here.” She said and everyone’s eyes widened.

“How much time do we have?” Sweets asked.

“I don’t know, her and Jughead are on their way.” She said and we nodded. We started gathering things. Everyone stopped when Jughead, Cheryl, and Archie walked through the doors.

“Take only what you absolutely need, and what you can carry with you. We need to move quickly and quietly. Sheriff Minetta’s forces are all over the Southside and they’re looking for our blood. If we want our skulls to remain uncracked, we have to go undetected.” Jughead said.

“Go where? There’s nowhere safe.” Sweet Pea said.

“We’ve been offered asylum on the Northside.” He answered and everyone moved to finish getting their things. Sweet Pea pulled me to the side and he had worry written all over his face.

“Babe, I think you should go home…” He said, but I shook my head.

“No way, I’m going with you guys. My dad knows I’m here and he knows what’s going on. He said as long as I stay safe I can be with you and the Serpents whenever.” I said and he sighed.

“But I don’t know if it’s going to be safe Y/N, I can’t lose you again…” He said and a tear escaped his eye. I moved my hand to his cheek and wiped it away.

“Sweets, you’ll never lose me. But I am doing this with you because I can’t lose you.” I said and he sighed again.

“Okay, but stay close to me this time, please?” He said and I nodded with a smile.

“I’ll stick to you like glue.” I said and he smiled.

“Come on lovebirds, we have to go!” Toni called with a smirk. Sweet Pea grabbed my hand and his bag and we left to sneak to the Northside. The cops were everywhere and we were walking down a street when we heard a car behind us. Everyone paused for a second but then ran when we heard the sirens growing closer. Sweets pulled me with him and wrapped his arm around me to get me closer to him. He was worried, I could tell. Even if he wasn’t showing it, I knew he was. We finally made it to the bridge that leads to the Northside when Jughead paused and looked back. All the Serpents did. They were losing their home all because of where they grew up, it’s not like they had a choice in the matter. I wanted to fix this for them, but there was nothing I could do. Jughead turned back and we all continued walking. We walked all the way to Archie’s house where the Serpents were hiding out for the time being. I wanted to stay with Sweet Pea and everyone, but they told me to go home. So I did. I went home and my brother and dad were already asleep. I quietly walked up to my room and set an alarm to get up way earlier than normal so I could go to Archie’s and see how everyone was.

I got up bright and early and threw open my closet to see what I should wear. I put on a cute gray crop top, some black jeans with the knees cut out, and some cute chunky heeled boots. For makeup, I just did a dark smokey eye and my favorite red lip.

I walked downstairs and looked through my phone, I saw I had a few text from my Serpent friends. I opened Toni’s first and saw her telling me everyone was okay and that Sweet Pea ended up cuddling with Fangs. I immediately texted her back asking if she got a picture of it, She said she did and said she’ll show me them later. Then I looked at Fang’s texts and they said that he and Sweets didn’t cuddle and Toni is lying. I laughed as I made my tea. I texted him back saying sure with a smiley face. Then I saw Sweet Pea texted me.

I smiled at the texts and finished making my tea. I grabbed an orange and quickly ate it. Right as I finished Sweet Pea pulled up in front of my house. I smiled and ran outside. He was getting off his bike and took off his helmet. He smiled at me and I hugged him. He pulled me close to him and leaned down and kissed me. It was perfect, until we heard someone clear their throat from behind us. We pulled apart and saw my dad standing there.

“Morning dad.” I said with a smile.

“Where are you going so early?” He asked with his arms crossed.

“I’m going with Sweet Pea to see the other Serpents, they were pretty much run out of the Southside…” I said nervously.

“So where are you staying?” He asked Sweets.

“Uh, Andrews’ let us stay at his.” Sweets said scratching the back of his neck.

“All of you?” He asked and Sweets nodded. My dad looked at me and I bit my lip.

“Well… if you ever need a place to stay for a few days, you’re welcome to stay here.” He said and I looked at him shocked.

“Are you serious dad?” I asked and he smiled.

“Yes honey.” He answered.

“So what is he gonna stay in my room?” I asked and my dad shook his head.

“No, he can stay with Kevin.” He said and I shook my head.

“So my brother can steal my boyfriend? No way!” I said.

“He’s not my type!” I heard Kevin shout from inside, which made everyone laugh.

“Then your type sucks!” I shouted back and Sweets chuckled.

“We’ll talk about it later.” Dad said.

“Fineee…” I said and he smiled.

“Go, but you better not skip school.” He said and I smiled.

“We won’t!” I said and Sweet Pea got on his bike. He handed me his helmet and I put it on. I got on the back and held him tight. I waved goodbye to my dad and we were off. We got to Archie’s place and it was packed. Archie’s dad was making breakfast for everyone and he looked happy.

“Hey Y/N, can I get you anything?” He asked.

“No thank you Mr. Andrews.” I smiled and he nodded.

“Do you want some help?” I asked him and He smiled.

“No thanks Y/N, but thank you for the offer.” He said and I nodded.

“Hey finally you guys got here!” Fangs said walking up with Toni, Jughead, and Archie.

“Sorry, my dad wanted to talk to us.” I said.

“Everything good?” Archie asked and I nodded.

“Yeah, he actually offered to let Sweet Pea stay over.” I smiled

“What? Really?” Fangs asked shocked.

“Yeah, I guess he’s pretty cool with Sweets now.” I said.

“Anyway, we have a plan to keep Southsiders at Riverdale High.” Jughead said.

“ What is it?” I asked. Jughead and Archie just smirked at each other.

When we got to school and gathered everyone up. Jughead and the Serpents, with the help of Archie and I, handed some people a Serpent jacket. We all stood in the hall just outside of Weatherbee’s office. He walked out and was shocked, but also annoyed.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He asked.

“It’s a show of support, sir. For the Southsiders who are being wrongly transferred out of our school.” Archie said.

“We’re all prepared to walk out.” I added and Sweet Pea placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Any student who walks out better keep walking, because they’ll be expelled.” Weatherbee said.

“Then you’ll have an empty school.” I said with a bit of sass and Jughead covered my mouth.

“You’re a good man, Principal Weatherbee. You’re not the kind of person who discriminates. And if you are, then expel me. Because I don’t want to be apart of that.” Archie said saving it. Weatherbee looked at all of us.

“Everyone, get to class.” He said then walked back into his office. Everyone walked away and Sweet Pea pulled me to him.

“You know, you look very hot in a Serpent jacket.” He said with a smirk.

“It is a really nice jacket.” I said wrapping my arms around his neck.

“How about we make it official?” He asked wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Wait, are you asking me to join the Serpents?” I asked and he smiled.

“Would that be so bad?” He asked.

“No, but my dad…” I said.

“We can work it out, but I really want you to be my Serpent gal.” He said and I smirked.

“I would love that Sweets.” I answered and he smiled. He pulled me in for a kiss and I giggled at how happy he was. Later that day we were all voting for class President. All of us were voting for Archie. The next day everyone was in the student lounge waiting for the results. I was sitting in Sweet Pea’s lap and he was sneakily kissing my neck, he was in a very touchy mood today.

“Attention, Riverdale High students.” Weatherbee said over the PA.

“The results of your student council election are in.” He said and everyone stood up.

“And your new student body President is…” He paused.

“Archie Andrews!” He said and everyone cheered.

“In unrelated news, for the foreseeable future, all former Southside High students will remain at Riverdale High. That is all.” He said and everyone cheered. I got off Sweet Pea, which made him stand up and I pulled him down for a kiss. I heard someone take pictures, but I really didn’t care. My love wasn’t leaving me and I couldn’t be happier.

After school the Serpents were going to Sweetwater River to celebrate them still being alive and well. Jughead invited us and I of course was going, and Cheryl was going for Toni. I was hanging out with Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Jughead when FP whistled to get everyone attention.

“Listen up now! Hey, listen up!” He shouted, the music turned off and everyone looked at him.

“Some 60 years ago, the very first Serpent meeting took place on these same Riverbanks. And it makes sense that this is where we gather now, Where I…” He paused and we all stared at him.

“Where I say my goodbye. Jughead, would you step up here, son?” He said. We all looked at him confused, but Jughead got up and stood next to his dad.

“I’m retiring from the Serpents. For real this time.” He said and everyone started talking, no one was happy about this.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… But my boy, my boy has never stopped fighting for this crew. Hell, he almost died for it. That’s why I’m giving you the mantle.” He said to Jughead and everyone cheered.

“And now, as your first official duty as Serpent King…” He said and and motioned to Toin. She walked up to him with a bag and pulled out a red Serpent Jacket. FP handed it to Jughead and everyone cheered as he walked off the little stage.

“Alright, alright.” Jughead said quieting everyone.

“All I can say is, I love you dad.” He said and I smiled, I could feel tears forming in my eyes but I blinked them away… what can I say, I’m a bit of a sap.

“And the Serpents will not die out. No on my watch.” He said and everyone cheered. I watched as Cheryl took off her jacket and handed it to Toni. She walked up to Jughead and he helped her put on her new Serpent Jacket. Cheryl walked back over to Toni and they kissed.

“Awww, they’re so cute.” I said looking at my friends.

“That’s not all!” Jughead said and everyone quieted down again.

“I wasn’t the only one that almost died for the Serpents! Y/N Keller took a bullet for Fangs and we all thought she died! She took a bullet for him and she’s not even one of us!” He said and everyone cheered. I looked at him confused and then up at Sweet Pea and Fangs. They just smiled at me.

“Toni.” Jughead said and I looked over to see Toni pulling out another red Serpent Jacket. She handed it to Jughead and he smiled at me.

“Y/N, come on up.” He said and I looked at him shocked. Sweet Pea pushed me to get up and I looked back at him. Sweet Pea and Fangs nodded at me to go and I smiled. I walked up to him and he helped me same as he did with Cheryl. He smiled at me and everyone cheered once again. I hugged him and then ran back to Sweet Pea. He hugged me and lifted me up, being careful of my stitches. He gave me the biggest kiss and when it was over he pulled back, he had the biggest smile on his face.

“I love you Y/N.” He said and I smiled at him.

“I love you too, Sweet Pea.” I said.

We were in the school gym watching Archie officially become class President. The Vixens had just got done and Weatherbee was about to speak.

“Students, faculty and staff, before we inaugurate Archie Andrews in as our new student council President, please rise for our national anthem.” He said and everyone stood up. We put our hands over our hearts and Josie got up to sing. Archie was smiling at us and we smiled back, he was so happy. Suddenly the door opened and we watched as Sheriff Minetta walked in with some other cops and arrested Archie.

“Sheriff Minetta, what are you doing?” Archie asked.

“Archie Andrews, you’re under arrest for the murder of Shadow Lake resident, Cassidy Bullick.” He said.

“What? I didn’t kill him-”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. Yout have the right to an attorney…” He continued to list off the rights and we all watched in shock.

“Hey! Let him go!” I shouted and went to go run, but Sweet Pea held me back. We watched as our friend was lead out of the school in handcuffs…

Tag list: @54fangirl @southsidehufflepuff @xrosesareredx @cvvlxx @skeletalwolfcat @demigodofthesun @depressed-octopods-art @nalayrene @yourfavouritefuckup @staygoldsquatchling02 @sataninsatin @im-socialy-awkward-no-joke @dark-night-sky-99 @aframeofbones @jojokoko0717 @nixdunbarhale @wanderlust-and-poetry @theyouthfulmoon @seasiren96 @nixdunbarhale2 @misskarynie @emo-godess-loves-you @a--smallgirlinabigworld @ohlookmybed @everheart12 @sailorsolar12 @screamxqueenx94 @sweetpeas-serpent-princess @genius2050 @dylpickles1267 @notreallyamundi @xdsockmonkey @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @xrosesareredx @herokyolachan @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @alex--awesome--22 @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @tigermillionaire-philanthropist @marveloverdcsstuff @emo-godess-loves-you @hiya-imthatgirl @answer-the-sirens @mindsetjupiter @averysinclaire @mittelerde1999 @sweetest-peas @rousewriter @jjkingston @k-is-cray @camiconfessions @thecaptainsgingersnap @staygoldsquatchling02 @wanderlust-and-poetry @hiighdeex3 @ayeitsjaz @mysticrebelwerewolf @tht1wrdo @thegirlallthebadguyswant @skeletalwolfcat @scarrasco1325

169 notes · View notes