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elfwoodfae · 3 years

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“Nightcall” Harrison Eo Wells x reader

Chapter-13

Author’s note: Author’s note: I actually went out of my comfort zone in this chapter, touching a few points about Eo’s past and focusing on his point of view, I hope you like it, I think there is only 2 to 3 chapters left on this story and I want to know if you all would want me to continue it or to start a new one. Please let me know. I hope you enjoy it.

Gif credits to the owner.

He woke up the next morning before you did, the faint light of the sun hitting his eyes, making him squint them instantly; you were still tangled with him, your legs intertwined together. His eyes studied your face, so peaceful, so beautiful, the events of the previous night flashed through his mind and the guilt returned as the memory of the fear in your eyes came to the forefront of his mind. He was still unsure of why you were here, here with him. He wasn’t a good man, he wasn’t good enough for you, he had hurt people, he had caused pain, destruction, chaos and still here you were, trusting him with your life, with your being like he was some sort of guardian angel. You were making him soft, doubtful, vulnerable.

He recalled the way he had so fervently told you no when you begged him to help Allen and now here he was, wondering how he could actually do it, he owed you that much. He decided that if he was going to give in and bend at your will, he would do it on his own terms. He would map out a plan, he would get his plan executed, the goal completed.

He carefully moved from in between your embrace, being careful not to wake you as he made his way out of the bed. He walked to the bathroom, freshening himself up, he splashed water on his face, looking at the man in the mirror starting back, he didn’t recognize that man. There was no hate in his eyes, for once he could look at himself and feel some kind of relief. He missed his body, he missed who he was, having his mind and his memories all to himself. You liked him like this, you didn’t even know there was more to it than met the eye. You could never find out, find out of what he had had to do to survive, you would never find out that this body, was stolen, that his memories were corrupted. He was sure you wouldn’t be able to look past that, to look behind the mask and be with a man that wasn’t real anymore, that didn’t exist. He wondered for a second if you would have liked his original body more than you liked this one. He hated the answer his brain instantly offered him, of course you would love this one better, it was the only one you knew, and the only one you would ever know. He could feel the sudden fear raise inside of him when he realized where all of this thoughts had originated from. He was scared, he was scared of losing you and why would he be scare of losing anything or anyone? Because he loved you, because he had grown to love you and to need you.

His eyes quickly darted around the room, spotting his pants as he moved towards them, looking in his right pocket for his ring. He always kept it close to him, but lately he hadn’t need it. He grabbed the chain and tangled it in his hand, walking out of the room to the safe he kept hidden on the wall, opening it before placing the ring next to the gun he kept there for emergencies.

Opening the door to his office, he started to ponder on his next move, considering all the variables and movements, he knew Barry and the team had been working on a plan to build a trap to catch the reverse flash. Those plans had been left at pause once he had stopped showing around. He needed to get out there again and make that trap happen, it was the only way he could give you what you wanted, even if it meant giving Allen what he wanted too. He needed to make sure every detail was down to perfection, he had been working on his own side of this idea long before you intersected it. He would create a speed mirage, one to fool everyone while he was at the lab with them, one to run to whatever trap they had settled and hopefully it would be enough for Joe to work off of it to start a case to plead for Henry’s freedom.

He couldn’t say he didn’t understand some of what Barry felt, he knew what it was like to miss your family, to miss the people you cared for, even if they didn’t entirely cared for you in return. Robern’s face quickly flashed through his mind, he hadn’t thought of him in a long time, he wasn’t particularly fond of him, but in a way after being far away for so long, suddenly the despise and wishes to get rid of his little brother he had felt on his years prior to getting stuck on this time were gone. He even missed the bastard.

He shook his head before resting it on his hands, trying to free himself from those memories and thoughts that no longer served him. He wasn’t going back ever, he had given that up for you, for a life by your side. He looked up at the clock, it read half past 7, he should get ready and leave for the labs. He walked over to the room, you were still sound asleep and he had to resist the temptation of getting back in the bed with you.

Once fully clothed in his usual attire he walked towards the bedroom door, he was about to open it when he felt you stirring on the bed, looking back at you lovingly as you woke up. You stared at him, taking a moment to fully get a hold of yourself before speaking.

“What time is it?” Your eyes squinted in the direction of the clock while you sat up, holding the duvet close to your chest.

“Is almost 8, I have to leave to the labs, you can stay here.” He suggested, wanting to give you some rest.

“And miss all the action? I want to go with you.” You added, trying to test the waters and make sure you both were back to normal.

“Will you wait for me?” You asked him at his lack of response to the previous statement.

He simply nodded, walking over to the bed when you started to get up, silently wrapping his arms around you, feeling the warmth of your skin that peaked out of the duvet you were holding.

“I have been thinking,” he began.

“I will do what you want me to,” he continued, marking how this is something you were pushing on him, he didn’t want to do it but he would for you.

“But we will do it on my terms. I have a plan, and you need to trust me.” He finished.

“I trust you Eo,” you added, smiling at the cute nickname you had come up with for him. He internally cringed, remembering that only his brother had called him “Eo” in his whole life and he usually did it in a mocking manner but coming off of your lips it sounded kind, gentle almost loving. Things he didn’t receive or deserve.

You arrived to the lab together, finding it empty, neither of the team members there yet. You sat around the cortex together, checking over some plans and prototypes Cisco had been working on. The elevator door opened, and the sound of heels and chattering announced that Caitlin and Cisco had arrived, you were seated far away from Eo, not really giving away any reason to raise suspicion. You wish you could tell them; share the joy of being together but you knew it was most likely a topic he wouldn’t want to discuss.

With a discreet glance in your direction Harrison cleared his throat before speaking, addressing Caitlin mainly, he informed her that he would be absent from the lab until mid day, having being offered an invitation to speak at a class in Central City University, Caitlin quickly pulled out the invitation she remembered he had asked her to keep for him, he wasn’t really planning to go but now he needed the perfect excuse to execute his plan.

You didn’t know of this event, he hadn’t mention it, your eyes looked for his discreetly and he nodded his head, offering you some peace that this was part of his work. After he left Barry arrived, the whole team was mostly seated around waiting for anything to happen, any meta-humans to appear but it seemed to be a slow day, frankly most days had been slow since the flash made his debut, keeping everyone on check.

You couldn’t help but drift back to the thoughts in your head, all of them rotating around Eobard like the Earth rotating around the Sun, in this case he was you Sun, your star, the only thing you would ever want in life. Your relationship with him was getting serious, too serious, you could feel it, in the way you knew you loved him, wondering if he loved you or at least if he was capable of loving you back. You wondered what plan was this he was working on? He hadn’t told you anything at all about it, it was probably better if you were kept in the dark.

Midday rolled around and so did him, coming back to the labs and into the cortex, commenting how entertaining and informative the lecture had been, if he said this out of truth or sarcasm you had no idea, there was a fine line between both when it came to this man. The day had remained slow and once it was nearing the afternoon you thought for sure that nothing exciting would happen at all, but soon after the satellite picked up movement near Mercury Labs, soon enough Cisco and Barry were hovering over the screen as it read the tag for reverse flash moving about. Your eyes widened in shock as Eo grabbed your hand cautiously and squeezed it fast in reassurance. How could he be in two places at the same time? What was happening? You were puzzled with curiosity, there was more to this man than what you had ever thought possible and you made a mental note to ask him about this thing later. Barry speeded around the room before Eo could scream at him to be careful, he knew Barry would follow him and try to catch him, this was the bait he had thrown for the team to continue working on the trap.

He didn’t need the tachyon enhancer he was trying to steal from Mercury Labs, but it was the perfect excuse to keep going. Once Barry had finally reached him he was about to leave, having only done all of that as a show, or at least his mirage was about to, Barry did the usual speech he liked to perform where he questioned him to no end before he replied with the same, you will never catch me or this is not over flash. This game had been going on for so long he couldn’t remember how many times those words had been uttered.

Once Barry made it back to the labs he was frantic, questioning why reverse flash would want to steal the device or when had he reappeared since he had stayed on the low for a few weeks now, seeming as he was back they decided to keep working on the trap, to finish it faster and try to catch him. He knew they had taken the bait when Barry informed him later that he wanted him to go with him to talk to Christina about lending them the prototype so they could use it to lure reverse flash out. His plan was working, it was near completion and tomorrow would prove to be a success once he managed to trap himself and use that to free Henry, hoping that this would put an end to your torment.

Everyone stayed late at the lab, working on finishing the trap while he and Barry procured the prototype, it had been a tough negotiation, Christina being very wary of himself. Once they made it back to the lab it was late enough that everyone was leaving, he said his goodnight and retreated to look for you. He found you in one of the workshops, finishing the final touches of your part before he informed you that everyone had left, he asked you to go with him, stay the night with him and you didn’t deny him, how could you if that was the moment of the day you looked forward the most.

It was a little past 10 when you walked through the doors, he got up from the chair, making his usual routine of a drink and some relaxing opera to soothe his nerves. An idea popped in your head, you wanted to take a bath and may as well offer him the chance to accompany you. Walking behind him and circling your hands around his middle your chin resting against the muscles of his impressive back, you spoke.

“Why don’t you come with me, and I will show you something nice.” You said, not wanting to give it away. He raised his eyebrows, his curiosity had been picked, he wanted to know more now.

“What would that be?” He whispered in that husky tone he usually spoke, a smirk present on his face.

“Ah ah, you will have to wait and see, while I get it ready why don’t you get me a drink?” You asked him before moving away from him and in the direction of the room, his eyes following your every movement.

Once in the master bathroom you prepared the water, filling the tub and looking around for anything that would create some sort of bubbles, this man honestly had nothing of the kind, opting for stealing his shampoo you set in motion in feeling the tub completely before stripping and walking out to find him. You found him still by the counter, his back turned to you as you walked behind him, completely naked and hugged him from behind, he turned around in your embrace, his eyes trailing up and down your naked skin as his hands moved on their own accord to your waist, moving up and down feeling your skin while he moved down to press a kiss to your neck, humming in agreement at your current state.

His kisses trailed from your neck to your jaw before his mouth devoured yours with so much intensity, like a starve man eating for the first time in the day, this was exactly what he was feeling after not being able to kiss you all day. Your hands found his chest as you pushed him back, smiling at him. Your hands moved to find his and you pulled him to you, silently asking him to follow you, he obeyed, his eyes falling to your butt once you turned around and guided him to the bathroom, once inside your turned back towards him, your hands grabbing the hem of his shirt and while your lips grazed his, you kissed him slowly, passionately, wanting to feel every inch and curve his mouth had to offer. Once his shirt was off his pants followed soon after along with his underwear, you moved to the edge of the tub touching the water before moving to sit inside, looking at him expectingly.

He moved over, getting slowly inside the tub behind you, leaning back against the wall and sighting at the relive the warmth of the water offered him, one of his hands moved flat against your torso, pushing you back to lay on him while he ran it up and down your middle, caressing softly the skin of you breast and closing his eyes in relaxation when he felt your breathing slowing down, your hand caressing his arm.

“Will you tell me more about how you did that?” You asked him, your voice sleepy.

“How I did what?” He teased you, loving to play dumb for you to push.

“Come on you know what I mean, the speedy thing.” You said, tapping his arm lightly to show him how serious you were. His eyebrows raised in amusement at your chose of words.

“I will, but not today, I’ll tell you tomorrow.” He said.

“Do you promise?” You insisted, knowing how easily he liked to avoid subjects.

“I do, why don’t you relax? Take a nap I’ve got you.” he offered.

“Okay,” you replied sleepily, your eyes felt very heavy as the weight of the day suddenly downed on you, the warm water and the dimly lit bathroom lulling you into a comfortable slumber.

“I love you Eo.” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, not that you wanted to, you loved him and you weren’t afraid or ashamed of it. He was your love, he was yours. His arms instantly tightened around you, his breath slightly faltering, his heart speeding up to what would be considered abnormal for someone like him. I love you too, he thought to himself, words he was not ready to voice, words he still struggled to wrap his head around, to understand. But the only thing he knew for sure, the only one he understood in this moment was that you were his and he was yours.

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moonlit-han · 4 years

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these scars for you ↠ han jisung

genre: boxer!jisung au, friends to lovers, college au, almost action? pairing: han jisung x femme reader word count: 5.2k fic warnings: description of fighting, blood, injuries, and mild concussion, suggestive, swearing, mention of assault (no description), alcohol consumption by characters of age, mild angst, oh and lots of pining and fluff request: yes a/n: well, here it is—the eagerly awaited han jisung boxer au. i hope the time jumps make sense—the whole piece goes roughly chronologically, if that’s any help. enjoy! a/n.2: found a couple typos and fixed them. sorry about that!

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

some boxing terminology (thanks, wikipedia~)

- jab: a punch in which the boxer extends their arm straight out with their palm facing the ground - uppercut: a punch thrown from below with a little swing to it—best for hitting the chin/jaw from below - hook: a punch in which the boxer holds their arm in an L or 90o angle and rotates their body so as to land the punch while their arm comes across their body - upper-hook: a cross between an uppercut and a hook - short straight-punch: a punch executed at short range, most easily with the fist coming from the waist - knockout: when a boxer touches the mat in the ring with any other part of the body besides the feet—the referee counts to ten to give time for the boxer to stand again. if the boxer is unable to do so before the referee reaches ten, the round is ended by knockout (KO) (even if the boxer isn’t unconscious) - technical knockout: the referee or other qualified personnel decides that the boxer is not fit to safely continue due to injuries or lack of defense. also, the “three-knockdown rule”—if a boxer is knocked down thrice in a round, that is counted as a technical knockout - round: a boxing match consists of up to 12 3-minute rounds. I’ve chosen varying numbers for the matches portrayed in this fic.

↠↞

Y/N and Jisung, Jisung and Y/N. That’s how it had always been and that’s how it would always be. Jisung was sure of that much.

You were a year older than Jisung, but that hadn’t stopped you from becoming friends within fifteen minutes of meeting each other. A mere six months later, you were so close that people often thought you were siblings. As the older one, you felt well within your rights to tease Jisung as much as you wanted. You’d called him a squirrel enough times that it became a nickname for him.

You were fiercely independent and threw yourself into potentially dangerous situations with no hesitation, which Jisung thought was totally badass. And yet, Jisung insisted, absolutely insisted, on defending your honor against the wiles of other boys and then other men, saying he’d fight them. You just pushed him, saying, “I don’t need protecting, especially from a stick like you!”

The first time Jisung watched you challenge someone to a fight was in second grade (you were in third) when the most pressing issue was whether or not peanut butter should be spread on the righthand piece of bread or the lefthand piece of bread in a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He’d managed to convince you that it wasn’t worth starting a fight over—“It was a duel, Jisung”—but that hadn’t stopped you from brashly challenging anyone with whom you had an issue for many years to come.

In 8th grade, you decided that you wanted to go explore a stretch of the forest behind Jisung’s grandparents’ house. For three weekends in a row, you’d shown up at his house with an overeager smile and an insatiable desire to discover whatever treasures laid in wait amongst the trees. Jisung had agreed to go with you, if only to watch your back. By now, he was used to being the sense of safety that you seemed to lack. When you’d lost your balance for a moment while crossing a stream on a fallen tree, Jisung had nearly had a heart attack. He hadn’t thought once about his own safety, just yours. Always yours.

High school was a trial for the two of you, since your parents decided to move and, consequently, you’d gone to a different school from the one Jisung would attend a year later. As he listened to you talk about how difficult the transition was and how much you missed him, Jisung soon learned that it wasn’t just physical pain he wanted to shield you from. In the middle of your senior year, your significant other had broken up with you, saying that it wouldn’t last when you both went to college. Jisung had held you as you cried, and it was then that he knew that he would do anything in his power to prevent you from crying that much ever again.

That was also the first time he realized that he loved you.

↠↞

“Hey, Y/N!” someone called from behind you.

You turned round just in time to register a volleyball sailing down through the air, coming straight for your head. The next thing you knew, you were laying on the ground with the wind knocked out of you and your head throbbing. Closing your eyes for a moment, you enjoyed the relief the darkness offered.

A hand shook your shoulder and you heard distantly, as if through water or layers and layers of wool, the sound of a voice calling your name. You knew that voice—it was . . . it was . . .

You struggled to latch onto the sound and push through the darkness that threatened to pull you down.

“Y/N! Come on, wake up. Please,” the voice begged and you felt familiar arms wrap around you.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked up into the face of you knew better than your own. Jisung had a split lip and a black eye, with blood running down his chin. It looked like he was about to cry.

Jisung sighed and pulled you to his chest when he saw that you were, indeed, awake. You were a bit startled, but he held you so gently, cradling your tender head, that you didn’t mind.

“Oh, thank god,” Jisung breathed. “You’re okay.”

You searched for words for a moment, then said groggily, “Coursemokay.” Despite what you wanted it to do, your head lolled backward—it was a bit disturbing to have your body slightly out of your control. Jisung immediately supported your head, shaking his own as if in disbelief. After a moment, he seemed to gather himself.

“Y/N, you idiot,” Jisung grumbled. “Why did you do that? You knew he’d come after you! Seriously, don’t scare me like that.” Jisung almost seemed to be begging.

“I had to—he was bothering Lily,” you managed to say, glad to be regaining the ability to speak. Had you been knocked out?

“But you didn’t have to go punch that fucker!”

“Yeah, but he stopped bothering Lily,” you said, clearly finding some comfort in the repetition of her name. You tried to sit up, but Jisung just held you partially reclined against his chest. “Is she still okay?”

“She’s fine, but you’re not.” Jisung raked a hand through his hair. “Fucking hell, Y/N, he intentionally knocked you out. The monitor’s furious—I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets expelled. It would serve him right, after what he tried to do,” he finished darkly.

You just stared up at Jisung for a long time, taking in the familiar lines of his face that were now more pronounced than when he was younger. It was as if the world had hardened him somehow, but it made him look sleek like marble instead of weathered.

“But how did you get a split lip?”

“Don’t worry about,” Jisung tried laughed, but it sounded forced to you.

“Jisung.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” he exclaimed and tears began to run down his face. “I have to protect you. You’re all I’ve got!”

You didn’t know what to say. It was as if time had stopped but you were still spinning through space, a comet destined for impact on a new planet of understanding. You felt wetness on your face and realized that Jisung’s tears were falling onto your cheeks, as if you were crying, too.

You’re all I’ve got. What did he . . .

Just then, the field monitor came over and all thoughts fled your mind.

“What happened here?” he said sternly as he approached. “Why is L/N on the ground? Han, explain.”

Jisung gulped and then launched into a rambling explanation of the events that led to that moment. The monitor looked shocked when Jisung accused the boys’ volleyball team captain of attempted assault on a member of the girls’ volleyball team. Of course, Jisung was proud when you’d confronted the guy, threatening him with physical violence yourself and the prospect of exposure. Granted, Jisung had been worried when you told him that you’d punched someone nearly twice your size (but not too worried). The important thing was that you’d defended someone and saved them from harm.

When Jisung said that the captain had then thrown a ball directly at your head from close range, the monitor almost screeched.

“You’re telling me that another student deliberately sought and succeeded in harming Miss L/N?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. What’s so unclear about it?” Jisung was incredulous. You tried to move to lightly shove him, but your coordination was still suspect. Jisung smoothed your hair with shaking hands, and helped you sit up a bit.

After taking a deep breath, the monitor knelt. “You’re right, Han, there’s nothing unclear about this situation.”

The captain of the boys’ volleyball team was expelled shortly thereafter.

The very next week, at the young age of seventeen, Han Jisung decided to learn how to box so he could better protect you from anything that came your way.

↠↞

The roar of the crowd was like nothing else Jisung had ever experienced. People screamed encouragement, jeers, threats, and love confessions from the bleachers surrounding the boxing ring in which he and his opponent would soon face off. He’d known it would be loud, but not this loud. This was Jisung’s first official match outside of practice, and even though he knew he was more than prepared with Changbin as his teacher, Jisung still felt a little nervous. After all, he was only eighteen years old.

“You’ve got this, Ji,” Changbin said, patting Jisung’s shoulder as they waited for the referee’s signal to mount the platform. “Just remember what we planned. You’re quick and smaller than him, which gives you something to work with. You can come in under his reach more easily. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jisung muttered, trying to tear his eyes away from the man who’d just walked over to the other side of the ring. His opponent had on the customary red shorts to mark him as a higher rank than Jisung, who wore blue. The guy had even dyed his hair red, as if to say that no one was better than him.

“Just breathe—it’s only going to be eight rounds,” Changbin continued. “You’ve gone fifteen with Dan and still won, so this guy’s nothing to worry about. Plus, you’ve got Felix as your second.”

He was about to respond, but the referee motioned to both boxers to enter the ring. Jisung made sure the straps on his gloves were secure, set his shoulders, and took a deep breath. And, he thought of you. After all, you were everything he was fighting for.

↠↞

Jisung collapsed back onto the couch in your apartment, absolutely exhausted. You were in the other room getting your books to study, and all Jisung wanted was to rest. It was a Thursday, after all, and he didn’t have classes on Fridays. His phone vibrated with a text.

bro: hey, great job at practice today! make sure to ice and let me know if you need anything before tomorrow’s match jisung: thanks. i’ll be fine changbin. gotta go—i’m at y/n’s rn bro: have fun 😉

Jisung ignored that last text, since Changbin knew full well that there could never be anything between him and you. Ever since you’d gone off to college, you’d made it clear that there was only one man for you, and his name was Lee Minho. Damn, that bastard. Jisung just really wanted to punch him.

That didn’t stop Jisung from harboring tender feelings for you, though. Now that Jisung was also in college, and at the same one as you, he’d been determined to stick to your side like a burr. Minho had commented on this just once before you’d shut him down, explaining that Jisung was like a brother to you and that Minho had nothing to worry about. Minho, though, was not convinced and watched Jisung like a hawk anytime he was around.

“Fuck this!” you yelled, coming out of your bedroom. “I’m done, so done.”

“You good, Y/N?” Jisung said warily.

You flopped down on the couch next to him. “I’ll be fine,” you grumbled. “I just can’t study tonight.”

Jisung perked up at that. “So,” he drawled, “movie night?”

“God, please,” you begged, holding your head in your hands. “I just need something mindless. Were you just at the gym?” You’d clearly noticed that Jisung’s hair was wet and he was wearing his usual I-can’t-be-bothered-to-pick-out-an-outfit outfit of jeans and a sleeveless shirt. Since when did your little squirrel have biceps that nice?

“Yeah.” He ruffled your hair as he stood up. “Do you still have that cider I brought over last weekend?” Jisung called, heading into the kitchen.

“It’s in the fridge, right where you left it. Get me some popcorn, too!”

Jisung rummaged in the refrigerator as you, presumably, began to scroll through your choices of shows and movies. A few minutes later, Jisung came back with popcorn, water, and the hard cider.

“Are you okay with watching a sappy drama?” you asked as he sat down again.

“Depends on which one,” Jisung answered, looking suspiciously over at you.

“Soooo, does that mean we can watch Miss Panda and Mr. Hedgehog?”

“Oh god, no. No, no!!” Jisung exclaimed, taking the remote from your hands. “It’s too sappy! Plus, I’ll just crave more sweets after watching it.”

“I mean, they’re baking in it, so it makes sense,” you said, reaching across his chest to grab for the remote. “Are you sure we can’t watch it?”

Jisung just held the remote out of your reach above his head. “Nope.”

“Pleeeeease.” You were whining now, not caring if you sounded like a five year-old. Jisung leaned away from you, still holding the remote out of reach. You stood up, pushed the coffee table back, and put your hands on your hips. “Han Jisung, could you please give me the remote?”

“Eh,” Jisung said, grinning, “don’t think so. This is more fun.”

You lunged forward then, and Jisung had to lean backward out of the way. With his arm thrown back over his shoulder and you standing in front of him, there wasn’t much he could do. Plus, he was trying not to notice the neckline of your tank top as it was directly in front of his face. He tried lightly kicking your ankles, but you didn’t move. You grabbed at the remote, still leaning over him, but Jisung managed to pass it back and forth between his hands. Finally, you stood back, crossing your arms. Jisung let out a sigh of relief—that had been a tense few moments.

“Jisung,” you wheedled, “please? I just want to relax!”

“I do, too!” Jisung wasn’t quite annoyed, but he was getting there. He rested his arms behind his head, waving the remote lazily from side to side. “Let’s just watch something a little less fluffy than Miss Panda and Mr. Hedgehog, okay?”

You pouted. Jisung pouted right back at you, making you giggle. Ah, victory.

Then, you lunged forward again and caught both of his wrists. Holding them together above his head, you shook his hands so he’d let go of the remote. Jisung decided to give in, even though he could have easily broken your hold.

“Damn, Y/N. I wouldn’t want to fight you. You’re pretty feisty,” he said, as if he didn’t already know that from years of bailing you out of fights. He looked up into your face—your cheeks were a little flushed.

You just glared down at him, still holding his wrists above his head. “I’ll make you a deal,” you said. “I’ll watch whatever you want to if we can watch three episodes of Miss Panda and Mr. Hedgehog.”

“Sure,” Jisung said, realizing belatedly that his breath was coming a bit faster than normal.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You let go of his wrists, which his shook a little for effect, then went to retrieve the remote from behind the sofa.

Is it weird that was a total turn on? Jisung thought, running a hand through his hair. Fucking hell.

↠↞

“Minho, really. What the hell?” you demanded of your boyfriend.

“Y/N, if you’re going to moon over Jisung at every opportunity, I don’t think we should date anymore,” Minho said flatly.

“I don’t moon! He’s my best friend!”

“Whatever, Y/N, you do. I think you should reevaluate your feelings and priorities. In the meantime, I’m going. You’re wonderful and I loved you, but I can’t stay anymore. I wish you the best, Y/N.”

With that, Lee Minho walked out the door of your apartment, closing it carefully behind himself. You stood there, staring blankly at the door.

Reevaluate my feelings and priorities? you thought. What exactly—

A knock on your apartment door jolted you out of your reverie. “Come in,” you called, knowing it was probably Jisung. It was.

“Where was Minho going?” he asked immediately. “He didn’t look happy. Did you two have a fight?”

“He just broke up with me, Jisung,” you said, unable to muster any emotion. You’d had a feeling that your relationship was coming to an end, but you hadn’t expected Minho to just walk out like that. You sighed.

“What?” Jisung burst out. “He just straight-up left you? What the fuck?”

“He said I needed to reevaluate my feelings and priorities. That was it.”

Jisung strode forward and enveloped you in a hug, ignoring your protests and wiggling. Finally, you stopped and put your arms around your best friend, leaning your head on his chest. You could hear his heart pounding. And then, it was like something inside you broke at the feeling of warm, protective arms around you.

You started to cry. Jisung just held you, gently rubbing your back and telling you that everything would okay. Eventually, when you’d cried yourself into hiccups, Jisung let go of you.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice low. “Don’t think about Minho. You had a good time while it lasted, but it’s done now. I don’t think he’ll be coming back.” He wiped the last remaining tears from your face, and, like an annoyed cat, you wrinkled your nose at being touched. “Let’s go get some dinner and then watch whatever sappy drama you’re into now, okay?”

You nodded your head as Jisung guided you to the couch to sit down. “Here,” he said gently, “let me get you some water and then we’ll go.”

As you sat there, sniffing occasionally, you thought of just how lucky you were to have Jisung in your life. Even though you teased him and had, when you were younger, pushed him around, he really was ever-present in your life. And, he’d always protected you and stood up for you. Why couldn’t have Minho been like that?

↠↞

A month later, you stopped by Jisung and Felix’s apartment for your usual gaming and movie night. Felix let you in, sunny as ever, and you made a beeline for the bathroom. You’d been there so many times that you didn’t exactly need to observe the usual niceties.

Taking out your earbuds, you opened the door and—

There before your eyes was Jisung. But this was not Jisung as you usually saw him.

No, this was a very wet and very naked Han Jisung getting out of the shower.

Holy fuck.

You hurriedly slammed the door, but not before he realized that you’d seen him.

Your face beet-red, you practically sprinted back down the hall to the living room and Felix. “Why didn’t you tell me he was in the shower?” you all but yelled.

“I didn’t know!” Felix said. Seeing your face, he burst out laughing. “You walked in on him, didn’t you.”

“Fucking hell, Felix. What do you think?”

Felix just continued to laugh.

With your mind racing faster than a bullet train, you sat down on the familiar couch.

Well, you thought, I now know more about Jisung than I ever thought I would. Not that you were complaining, though. The mental picture of your best friend flashed—and stuck—before your eyes: abs for days, toned pecs, muscular legs, biceps that looked like ripe peaches, and . . . yeah. Nice. All very . . . nice. You hoped your mental math was correct.

But what about all those bruises on his chest and stomach? you wondered. They aren’t hickeys, that’s for sure. And were those scars? How the hell did he get those? You couldn’t figure it out.

After a few minutes, Jisung came out of his bedroom, toweling his hair dry. You tried not to stare at his arms. What the hell was going on? Get it together, Y/N, you told yourself.

“J— Jisung?” you began, stammering in your embarrassment.

“Yeah?” he said, completely casual as he leaned back in a chair.

“Um, sorry I walked in on you. But, what were all those bruises? And the scars?”

In the kitchen, Felix stopped what he was doing to listen.

Jisung sighed and let the front legs of his chair fall to the ground again. He looked like what he was about to say would be, somehow, painful. “Don’t bite my head off, Y/N, okay?” he said.

“Why would I—” you began, but Jisung interrupted you.

“You’ll understand.” He took a deep breath. “I’m a boxer. I’ve been boxing since senior year of high school, with Changbin teaching me, and now I’m even in tournaments. I’ve even won a few. Remember when you got hit in the head by that volleyball? I started right after that. I started because I wanted to be able to protect you.

“All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you, Y/N. It also happened to be fun. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to laugh at me or tell me to stop because you thought you could stand up for yourself with no problem. I know you can, but I wanted to be able to be there for you, too. So, here I am: a boxer.”

You stared at Jisung. A boxer? You weren’t quite sure what to say, but Jisung gave you a minute to process. You could see him trying to read your expression.

“So, when will you take me to a match?” you said eventually.

Jisung spluttered. “What? No! Hell no, Y/N. It’s loud and some of the fans are kind of crazy, and I just don’t think you’d like it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you said firmly. “When’s your next match?”

↠↞

You walked into the gymnasium in which the boxing matches were held and were immediately surprised. High in the seats, someone had a banner with J.One written on it. Jisung had told you that was what he went by in the boxing world. You looked around, following Felix to just behind where he and the rest of Jisung’s group would sit side-ring. Taking a seat, you noticed the first aid stations, the ropes, everything.

After what seemed like forever, the crowd roared as Jisung and his opponent for the night, Luke, came into the venue. You cheered along with everyone else, and were surprised that your best friend had this much of a following. He was pretty cool in his red shorts. Yet again, you found yourself trying not to stare at his muscles, but it was so hard not to when they were just there for all to see.

The match was to be a full twelve rounds. At the start of the first round, you leaned forward in your seat, trying to catch exactly what Jisung was doing and planning. Round after round went on, flying by quicker than you could’ve imagined. By Round Seven, you were on your feet, hands over your mouth. It was a close match.

↠↞

Jisung climbed the three stairs up to the platform and ducked under the ropes. This was it. His first match with you watching. He could do you and Changbin proud.

The bell rang and Jisung squared off against his opponent. He’d read up on the man, and knew that he should be okay if he kept moving. Jisung darted around the ring for the first minute, occasionally landing a punch here and there. His opponent jeered, calling him “milksop” and “green bastard,” but Jisung didn’t let that phase him. He was young but he’s wasn’t green anymore. By minute three, the other man was tiring from always being on the offensive, his obvious cockiness and, perhaps, anger getting the better of him. One arm was even drooping. How was this guy even any good? Jisung thought.

Then, Jisung circled round to the side and took his opponent’s momentary lapse in readiness as an opportunity to land two blows on the man’s exposed shoulder, jarring the muscles. This would slow the man down even more. However, Jisung misjudged the strength the man had and, seconds later, ended up on the ground with the referee beginning the count of ten. He’d received two quick punches to the gut and one to chin—how he hadn’t been able to defend himself, he couldn’t guess—and was now quite unable to stand.

“Knockout! End of round,” the referee shouted, and the crowd cheered.

After a moment, Jisung struggled to his feet, cursing himself for a fool. He’d been tricked by one of the oldest ploys in the book: act weak and come out strong. As he hung on the ropes, Changbin passed water up to him and Jisung took a few sips, wiping his brow.

“So,” Changbin said casually, “did you figure out what went wrong?”

“Fuck, Changbin, of course I did. He got me when I thought he wasn’t strong enough to.”

“Just because Y/N’s here, doesn’t mean you can’t lose, Jisung. Focus. Don’t misjudge your opponent—there’s almost always a little something you don’t know, even if you’ve studied everything you can about them.” The beep signaling thirty seconds until Round Two sounded, and Changbin took back the water bottle. “Don’t worry about it—everyone goes down hard sometimes, you know that. Now go out there and prove you’re the damn good boxer I know you are.”

Jisung donned his gloves again, then stepped into his corner of the ring. His opponent leered at him. Did this guy never let up?

Still bobbing and weaving when necessary, he waited. The bell rang to signal the end of Round Five with both men still standing. They’d traded blows back and forth and Jisung was one round behind his opponent.

The bell rang for the start of the twelfth and final round, and Jisung tried to watch the other man with new eyes. Was he slower on his right side that his left? Was that just a birthmark or an old bruise? Could he really not bounce off the ropes as well as expected?

Yes. Jisung was certain of it all now.

His opponent went to jab, but Jisung blocked the punch and executed an uppercut to the other man’s chin. While he was still in close, Jisung followed this up with a short straight-punch to the ribs, where a bad bruise was clearly fading, and a hook to the side of the jaw. The other man was now disoriented and Jisung easily landed punch after punch, ending Round Twelve with a strong upper-hook. The referee counted ten as the bragging, red-haired man lay on the ground, Jisung watching from his corner of the ring.

“Knockout! End of round!”

Jisung slumped against the ropes, catching his breath. Blood ran down his chin from what was probably a tooth knocked out. His ribs hurt like fire, too. Taking another deep breath, he made his way off the platform. Changbin was there immediately with a towel and water.

“I think you’ve won, man!” he said excitedly. “You landed more accurate punches than that punch-out.”

“We’ll see,” Jisung conceded. Then, he tried laugh but his ribs hurt too much. “Turns out he could talk better than he could punch.”

Changbin smiled, patting Jisung on the back, and led him over to a chair. The fight doctor came over and started to examine Jisung. The judges deliberated for a few minutes, then came to their decision. Changbin had been right. Jisung managed to land more accurate punches than his opponent, which meant that, even though he’d been knocked out in the first round, he still had more points to his name.

Jisung had won. He grinned, and turned round to face you.

↠↞

Jisung turned his blood-covered face up to you when the judges announced his victory. Changbin and Felix were motioning for you to come down to the floor, too. You were beaming, not daring to believe the excitement and flutters of your heart.

You reached your best friend and, completely disregarding the orders of the fight doctor, swung you up into his arms. In no way did you care that your clothes were now covered in sweat, water, and blood because you were Jisung, and that’s all that mattered. You carefully hugged Jisung back, then he drew back slightly and smirked.

“See? I can fight,” he said.

“Yeah? Hmm, I guess you’re all right,” you laughed.

“Good,” Jisung murmured, then leaned in and caught your lips with his. You froze for a moment. When your mind caught up with reality, you kissed him back. You felt your insides fill with elation and what felt like sunlight, even as you tasted the faint traces of blood on Jisung’s lip. All of this felt right: you, Jisung, and some sort of fight happening. But now, you could add kisses to that list—a necessary addition, you thought with a smile. After all, you and Jisung against all odds was how it’d always been and always would be.

848 notes · View notes

pemfrost · 3 years

Note

For the bingo what about spideydevil hogwarts AU . Good luck on your bingo!!

Thank you if you do it.

Thanks for the prompt :D

So, this is like 3 times longer than I wanted to make these bingo fics lmao. Oops 🤷‍♀️. It still could use some polishing, but I'm terrified that Peter will find another plot thread if I poke at it anymore.

Bingo fic 1/?

As much as he devoted himself to studying, Peter could not bring himself to care about Divination. The whole class reminded him of cringe inducing hacks he'd seen on t.v. growing up. Except, no one was jumping out with hidden footage to debunk it. Everything appeared hollow: randomness assigned meaning. And, while Peter didn't often procrastinate, he found it harder and harder to work on his Divination homework the more weeks that passed.

There was one silver lining, though. Another student, one he'd held a torch for from afar, was in the class with him. That too, turned out to be hollow and meaningless until today. Despite having a class together, Peter still had no real reason to approach Matt. However, he stumbled into the opportunity in his usual Parker way: completely on accident.

His procrastination on his Divination assignments reached a plateau, and, despite his ability to work quickly under pressure, Peter was late to class. When he'd finally made it -ten minutes late and scribbling the last lines on his essay- he'd thought the repercussion would be a lecture. Or detention. The usual stuff Hogwarts professors liked to through his way.

Instead, the professor welcomed him to class in her airy way and quietly assigned him a partner for the project she was currently guiding the class through. "Ah, Mr. Murdock, please join Peter for the remainder of class."

By stoke of luck, Matthew Murdock had been an unlucky third wheel in another group, and made no fuss about changing seats. His usual partner was in the infirmary; the exact cause was the subject of many rumors. Peter was rather fond of the theory that Foggy was involved in a fight with the group of slytherins who often tired to bully Matt, but anyone involved was keeping their lips zipped tight.

It wasn't a glamorous impression, but Peter was thankful for the opportunity.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Matt crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back in the cozy chair across from Peter. He nodded to the steaming cup of tea in front of him, raising an eyebrow.

Peter nodded, then mentally kicked himself and verbally answered, "Yeah. I read over the basics last night."

It was a basic tea leaf reading, and the set up was quite straightforward. The professor was kind enough to provide hot water and a selection of tea leaves at each table. Though, she did note they would have a better reading with their own supplies.

"Good. I started my tea already, so you can read mine while yours-"

"Mr. Murdock." The professor tapped the cup in front of him with her wand. "You must start over. The leaves are easier for your partner to interpret when they are brewed just for them." With a flick of her wand, his cup was replaced with an empty one and she glided off towards another set of students.

Matt sighed and reached for the tea selection, deftly selected Earl Grey and pinched a healthy amount of leaves into his cup. Peter followed suit, choosing one at random without reading the labels.

"Don't you care for tea?" Matt's gaze was slightly to the left of where Peter sat, his face not giving away his thoughts.

"I do, I'm just not picky." His pulse quickened. This was the most they'd spoken in years. He watched Matt's hands as he poured the hot water into their cups, tracing the calluses earned from long hours in the greenhouse.

"Now we wait." Matt sat the pot back to the side of the table and leaned back in his chair.

The tea would need to steep for at least three minutes. There were many things to do during that time to ensure a good reading, or so the professor said. Holding the cup and thinking about what you wanted the leaves to tell you seemed like a good option, but Peter really didn't believe in fortune telling enough to meditate over his tea. Another method was to talk to the person who was going to do your reading. And the third, and one Matt seemed keen on, was to silently wait and let what happens happen.

In Peter's opinion, silence was something to be broken

"Uh," Peter shifted nervously as watched the steam rise from his cup, "how is Foggy? That was a hell of a match last night, shame he missed it."

"He's fine." Matt's voice was flat. "He should be discharged in time for dinner."

"That's… good to hear." Peter eyed him nervously. Matt was a year ahead of him and in a different house, meaning they had very few direct interactions. Yet, Peter knew a good amount about him. Or, rather, he knew what the Daily Prophet said and what he'd observed with his own eyes didn't always match and had drawn his own conclusions.

Coming from a muggle family meant Peter had very little frame of reference for most things, and he could only try to compare having an Auror as a father to having one who was a cop. Matt was a third year when his father was targeted by a group of dark wizards and Matt was caught in the crossfire.

Peter, always in search of knowledge, desperately wanted to know which curse caused Matt to lose his vision, and which spells gave him a sense of the world around him. As far as he could tell there was no braille equivalent in the Wizarding World. He didn't ask, of course. He had more sense than that, even in the pursuit of knowledge. He wanted to know Matt first, because he seemed like a cool -and handsome- guy.

Even if he was callous enough to just ask, it wasn't like he had many opportunities to do so. This was actually their first class together in Peter's six years at Hogwarts- and would be the only one since Matt would be graduating in a few months.

Despite having no real social interactions, Peter was well aware of Matt, and would have been even if his story wasn't in the papers for months. The very first time Peter stepped foot into Hogwarts, he was so enthralled with the majesty and magic of the castle -- until he spotted Matt. It was silly, and, even though Peter couldn't name the sensation back then, that moment stuck with him.

Peter had read everything he could prior to entering Hogwarts, dreading being behind his peers who grew up in the Wizarding World. His heart was set on Ravenclaw, drawn in by the lure of knowledge and like-minded students. That was until he locked eyes with Matt from across the hall and, for a brief moment, yearned to be adorned in red and gold. Reason won, and he was proud to be sorted into Ravenclaw. But, part of him always wondered.

"Thank you." Matt's voice jolted him from his reminiscing.

Peter wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve thanks, so he deflected with a joke. "Hey, I'd be thankful too if someone rescued me from the 'Dream Couple'. More like 'Most Annoying Couple'." He tapped his index finger on the table towards students Matt was originally teamed with, rolling his eyes at how closely they sat together.

A small chuckle escaped Matt and Peter's chest puffed with pride. Matt was such a serious person, he hardly ever smiled or laughed, and then it was almost exclusively with Foggy.

"For that, too, I suppose. I meant to thank you for being the only person in this class… probably the school… who hasn't ask me… about… it."

Oh. Peter looked away, embarrassed by how many questions he truly wanted to ask while simultaneously reeling from the fact Matt apparently paid enough attention to notice. "It's not my business. Besides, there's way more things I'd like to pick your brain about."

Matt raised an eyebrow, "Like?"

Peter opened his mouth to list off a litany of botany questions, but was cut off before he managed a single syllable. The professor stared down at them, "It's been long enough, time to drink your tea, be sure to do your rotations. Read the leaves immediately, take notes on your findings before looking up their meanings. Then, give your reading to your partner. Ideally, you will know each common symbol by heart by the end of the term, but for now use your books."

They dropped the conversation, following her instructions and downing their tea. Peter was pleased with his random choice, noting hints of citrus.

"Here," he pushed his empty cup towards Matt. As he took Matt's cup, he wondered how Matt would read his leaves, but didn't ask.

Peter peered into Matt’s cup, trying to find patterns in the chaos of leaves. Eventually, his eyes focused on the task and he could make out what he thought were symbols. He wrote down his list and set the cup and notebook on the table.

Across from him, Matt was focused on Peter's cup. He ran his wand over it, then his hand, then with a flick of his wand his quill automatically made a note.

"You'll have to teach me that sometime," Peter said before he could stop himself.

Matt paused, lips pursed.

Peter continued, "If I could direct my quill to write, it would save a lot of time when I'm trying new potion ingredient substitutes. The constant starting and stopping to note every step and change I make is such a juggle."

"That's pretty dangerous," Matt said with an amused lilt to his voice. "Though, I suppose teaching you that would make it slightly more safe."

"Yea, it would be negligent for you not to," Peter's heart raced as he teased the handsome student across from him.

"We should probably do the readings." Matt shifted, "But we'll figure out a time that we're both free, yeah?"

Peter nodded, "Yeah."

"I'll start, if that's okay."

"Uh, yeah. Did you need to look up your symbols? 'Cuz I have no idea what some of these mean."

Matt heaved a large reference book into his lap, "I'm doing it on the fly. Let's see…" He waved his wand over the pages and ran his index finger over the text.

Peter didn't put much stock into fortune telling, but he was curious what Matt would read in the leaves.

"So, your leaves are interesting. There is a small ring or letter 'O' at the top, so either a love interest is close or you have something important with someone with an 'O' name." He continued on without waiting for Peter's reaction or input, "There is a spider that spans both the present and future, which could mean you have a choice to make soon which will have a huge impact on your life. But, there is a smaller thing that could be a spider, too? So maybe you have a lot of choices to make?"

Peter shrugged. The close love interest piqued his interest, though he was more curious what Matt would say about it. Maybe he would be given a beacon of hope, a sign that Matt noticed him too.

"Ah, and this at the bottom! It's a very clear anchor, meaning a stable future." Matt tilted his head towards Peter, "You do not seem impressed with your reading."

"Nothing personal, I just don't think these things are more than carnival tricks and fun games."

"Fair enough," Matt chuckled and set his notes to the side, folded his arms on the table and leaned in. "Now mine."

Right, Peter had to figure out Matt's. He pulled out his own book and looked over the page of symbols. "Well, let's start with what I know without reading paragraphs of contradictory symbology. So, there is a ring -or 'O'- at the bottom and it's pretty big. Future relationship? Or someone with an 'O' name? And there is a smaller one of the same in the present."

He paused to look at his notes. "Uh… I think this is a ladder? Which means travel in your future. And a Knife in the future meaning a fight. Umm, I wrote down a snake, but it could be a worm? Which… is a bad omen or a secret enemy."

Peter glanced up at Matt, and was about to apologize for accidentally reading a bad future for him when the Professor approached their table.

"Ah, let's take a look, then, shall we?" She gently plucked Peter's tea cup up from in front of Matt and swept her eyes over the leaves. "Oh, my. You have a small romantic notion towards someone that has lasted a while but hasn't grown into anything more. You have several challenges which will appear in the near future and your decision to take them on or ignore them will drastically shape your life. Those choices are why a lot of your future is fuzzy, but if you remain true to yourself there is great prosperity and even greater love waiting for you."

She looked over Matt's notes and pointed out the symbols he missed. Peter sighed, he was ready for the class to end. At least he had his study not-date with Matt to look forward to.

"Let's have a look at the other one," She said as she lifted Matt's cup from where Peter set it. "You have a recent romantic notion, it is small and very new, but you will have a journey before it can grow. There are a lot of small victories in your future, but they can be overshadowed by betrayal. I see a powerful romance in the future, but it could be lost if you're not careful."

Matt seemed to hang on every word, but quickly folded his arms when the Professor finished her own reading. Was he taking it seriously? Peter made a note to ask later. There were some interesting parallels between their readings, giving Peter a sliver of hope of his feelings being returned despite the absurdity of fortune telling.

"Overall, not bad for your first times. Keep studying, there will be a practical component to the final." With that, she drifted towards another group, leaving Peter and Matt to clean up.

"You're a muggleborn, aren't you?" Matt wasn't looking at him, but Peter could feel the weight of his attention pinning him to his chair. "Foggy is too," Matt added quickly, "and has the same opinions on this," he waved his hand generally.

"Ah, yea. It's a bit… "

"I get it. Don't worry, no judgment here. Still, the reading was a bit uncanny."

Peter huffed. "It's easy to assign meaning to a vague set of events."

"Is that so?" Matt tilted his head.

"We're teens, so it's not uncommon to have a crush. And everyone has a journey at some point, or choices to make. That's life. And it's not unusual to get married later in your life."

"True." He calmly began to clean the table. A swish of his wand and his cup was clean. "So, you do not deny liking someone."

Well, that was unexpected. Peter sputtered, searching for a string of words to put together as his pulse raced. "I- well- that's- I-"

Matt had the audacity to laugh at him, and the sound alone was almost enough to make Peter's embarrassment worth it. Almost. "Why so embarrassed, I thought it wasn't uncommon?"

Peter busied himself with clearing his side of the table. "So, you're not denying it yourself?" He leaned into the hope the conversation sparked, imagining his feelings being returned. Tea leaves be damned, Peter made his own fate, and if he was given the chance there was no amount of future-telling that could ruin what he felt for Matt.

Their conversation dropped when the professor requested everyone's attention for a short lecture before the end of class. It was important information they would need for their test, but Peter's attention drifted to Matt. By the upward tilt of Matt’s lips, he was well aware of Peter's distraction.

There was a flurry of activity after class, and Peter didn't have any chance to speak with him further. However, Matt was true to his word and sought Peter out over the weekend. The weather was fair, creating the perfect opportunity to study together outside and away from the prying eyes of their classmates. They found a shaded area and set up their makeshift study session under the shade of a tree.

"I think I got it." Peter waved his wand over a fresh piece of parchment, whispering the spell Matt taught him. The tree bark dug into his back, and Matt’s cologne was distracting, but he could feel the tingle of the spell working. His quill sprung to work, jotting down a few lines of potion ingredients before sputtering out and falling to the page. As it rolled to the side, he sighed and leaned his head against the tree.

"It takes practice to keep it writing longer, but you've done more than I expected for your first lesson. You really are every bit the genius they say."

"People talk about me?" Peter was top of his class, but he didn't think his grades warranted discussion with the 7th years.

Matt shrugged and knocked his shoulder into Peter's. "I may have asked around."

Peter's heart somersaulted. "Oh? What, uh, else did 'they' say?"

"That you're a smart ass."

Peter nodded and leaned towards Matt, "Go on."

"Peter…" Matt's breath ghosted over his cheek sending a thrill up his spine.

"Matt…" Peter continued forward, gently pressing his lips against Matt's. For a brief moment, Matt pressed back; then suddenly there was a large distance between them.

Peter's lips felt cold.

"Sorry. I-"

"Don't be, I-I kissed you." Peter fumbled to put his quill and notebook into his bag. "I thought-"

"Peter." Matt's voice was soft, unsure. "It wouldn't be fair to you."

Peter stared down at his notes, trying to make sense of what Matt was saying.

"I graduate in a few months." He held up a hand when Peter started to protest, "and I've just been accepted into a school in Germany. I leave right after graduation to get a head start with their summer law program."

"But-"

"We would have an expiration date, Peter." Matt's eyes were closed. There was a rigidness to his posture which made Peter suspect there was more he wasn't saying.

"Ok. Then just friends."

Matt inhaled sharply, like he hadn't expected Peter's reaction. "Friends. Yea, I'd like that."

With that, they settled into a rhythm for the rest of the school year. Studying together when time allowed, ignoring the tension between them whenever they accidentally touched. Whenever the tightness in his chest returned, Peter reminded himself of their tea readings and imagined a future where they shared a happy ending.

----

Woo, thanks for reading!

There is a part two I'm working on where they reunite as professors several years later. I actually started that first then switched gears when Peter made a reference to their past. Hopefully I'll finish it soon so it's not so much of a cliffhanger lol.

#spideydevil #peter parker #matt murdock #Hogwarts au #spiderdevil #pem writes

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alwaysfeelingsaintlike · 3 years

Text

Driving Me Mad [G.W] - Part 1

Series Description: You and George come up with a plan to help each other out by pretending to date each other. But what happens when you actually start to catch feelings...

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor fem!reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Description: You reconnect with George during a friendly game of spin the bottle.

A/N: This concept was inspired by one of my favorite 90s teen movies, Drive Me Crazy (which everyone should watch btw). I wrote this a few years ago and recently re-worked. This is part 1 of 8! Enjoy :)

“1…2…3…4…” you heard Fred calling. You took off at a run to find your spot. You were playing hide and seek, like you always did at these reunions. The Burrow was the best venue for hide and seek because there were so many great hiding spots, both inside and out. Fred and George seemed to be the best at this game, but you had one secret spot where no one could ever find you. You ran down the stairs quickly, hoping you wouldn’t be heard or spotted. Your parents were in the sitting room with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, waiting for the roast to finish and you tip-toed to the one area where you shouldn’t have been, the kitchen. It was an unspoken rule that the kitchen was off limits when Mrs. Weasley was preparing dinner, but you were never one to follow rules. You heard the adults talking in the other room and knew you had a very limited window to get situated. You opened the cabinet under the sink and went to climb in when you realized there was already someone in there.

“Hey! This is my spot!” you whispered, still trying to keep your cover.

“Well too bad, I was here first,” he spat back.

“READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!” Fred called. Your eyes went wide in panic and you shoved yourself into the cabinet.

“Slide…over…” you said as you dug your elbow into George’s side. You knocked over stacks of bowls and pans and you quickly shut the cabinet door hoping to muffle the noise.

“I can’t believe you took my spot,” you grumbled.

“Your spot? I don’t see your name on it,” he teased. You smacked him and he winced. “Now, that wasn’t very nice.”

“Shh…you’ll give our position away.” You heard footsteps coming across the tile floor and held your breath.

You sat there for what seemed like hours, whispering insults back and forth and laughing about stupid things. The hardest part about sitting there was that dinner was starting to smell amazing. It was torturous. That was the downside to having a great hiding place; you were stuck there until you got found.

“Okay, I give up. You guys win. Just come out now,” you heard Fred calling.

“Should we?” you asked George.

“Nah. It’s more fun this way.”

By this point all of the kids were looking for you both, and maybe even the adults. It was hard to tell for sure, considering you were curled up in a cabinet, but you could hear lots of footsteps and your names being called repeatedly.

“Kids, come for dinner!” Mrs. Weasley called.

“What about now?” you asked George, thinking that the seekers would stop looking for you the minute their eyes caught sight of the meal.

George shook his head no and you trusted he knew what he was doing. “Just wait for it…” he whispered.

As if on cue, both the cabinet doors suddenly flew open. You had been caught. You then realized, it was Mrs. Weasley who had caught you and she had yet to notice two children were in place of her kitchen supplies. She was turned and was calling for the older boys to come and set the table.

Slowly, very slowly, she turned around and bent down to tend to the cabinet. George’s face broke into a warm smile, knowing what was coming next.

“AAAH!” she shrieked upon seeing your childish figures cramped into such a small space. You and George erupted into laughter at her reaction as everyone else scurried in to see what had happened. Mrs. Weasley was leaning against the counter, clutching her heart before she essentially beat you with a dishtowel to get you to come out.

“George! Y/N! What on earth were you thinking? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley! We didn’t mean to. We were just playing hide and seek,” you spoke, innocently enough. Her mood completely changed and it was as if nothing was wrong.

“Well…alright. Go wash up for dinner,” she said.

Fred approached the two of us, “That was brilliant. Couldn’t have done it better myself,” he said, giving you both high fives.

Dinner was full of laughs and merriment as the two families conversed over a lovely meal. George sat across from you at the table and every now and then he would kick your shins and give you that evil grin of his. This was your relationship. You were essentially the second Weasley girl, and according to the twins you were more fun to torment because you could dish it back.

Dinner drew to a close, which meant you could continue playing again. The adults stayed and talked more over tea as you all made up imaginary games, pretending to be people you weren’t. Then, soon, your parents would call you and give you the twenty-minute warning, which always meant you were leaving in an hour. You would say your goodbyes like it was no big deal, but once you started heading home you grew infinitely sadder knowing you’d be playing alone until your next trip to the Burrow.

A lot of time had passed since the hide and seek days. Now, hide and seek was used when you were playing hard to get, which happened quite often now that you were a 5th year. You also didn’t see as much of the Weasleys as you used to. When you were younger, you would go over to the Burrow all the time. But now you only really saw them in passing at Hogwarts. You were still friendly, of course, but you had found yourself in a different friend group.

Recently, you’d been spending a lot more time with the Ravenclaw’s largely because you were dating Roger Davies. You had started dating towards the end of your fourth year and things had been going great. You were particularly excited for the upcoming school year because they had announced the Triwizard Tournament.

The champions had just been announced and you were in Room of Requirement, sipping a butterbeer and celebrating with a majority of the Hogwarts population.

“Here ye, here ye!” someone called out. Your attention shifted to the center of the room where the Weasley twins were making an announcement.

“As you all know, we are here for two reasons. One: to celebrate the success of our fellow Hogwartsians,” one of them spoke. The crowd cheered. Cedric’s friends clapped him on the back while Harry stood awkwardly in the corner with a handful of Gryffindors from his year.

“And two is to have a bloody good time!” the other twin shouted. That statement was followed by even more applause. People clinked their butterbeer bottles together as the twins made a few more remarks to the group.

You mingled around the party for a bit, keeping your eye out for Roger who hadn’t seemed to arrive yet. After a few butterbeers, you stopped worrying so much about your boyfriend’s whereabouts.

“Who wants to play spin the bottle?” you heard someone call. That certainly caught your attention. All the participants sat in a circle on the floor.

“What rules are we playing tonight?” Cho asked.

Fred spoke next, “Spinner gets one spin. Whoever the bottle lands on can decide if they want one kiss in front of everyone or five minutes in the closet. You only get a re-spin if the bottle lands on yourself. And all wands in the middle of the circle. We don’t need any interference. Sound good?” Everyone nodded in agreement and the festivities ensued.

Since Cedric was the champion, everyone agreed to let him spin first. His bottle landed on Lavender Brown and she chose to enter the closet with Cedric. Cho looked pissed, as she had her eye on Cedric this year. The two emerged from the closet minutes later, Cedric looking sheepish and surprised and Lavender trying to hide the grin creeping up her face.

You waited and waited for your turn, and you found yourself getting bored. You were about to leave the game and head to bed but then you heard your name.

“You’re up.”

The bottle slid over to you and you decided you would leave after your turn was up. You held the glass bottle for a moment before placing it in the middle of the circle and giving it a good spin. The bottle was almost mesmerizing as it completed rotation after rotation before finally slowing down to land on someone. You slowly looked up to see who was at the receiving end of your spin and you internally cringed to see that familiar smile.

“Alright Y/L/N, I will see you in the closet,” he said. Everyone ‘oohed’ like you were preteens as he stood up and made his way to the closet. You reluctantly followed, knowing this was your ticket out of here.

“Well if it isn’t my first girlfriend,” he smiled as you made your way through the door.

“You wish, George. We were six…it didn’t count.”

“That’s what you think.” You rolled your eyes at his comment.

“Just so you know, nothing is happening in here. I have a boyfriend.”

“Ah of course. Well how are things?”

“Things are going great between us. We’ve been dating almost-“

He cut you off, “I wasn’t asking about Roger. I was asking about you. We haven’t talked in a while.”

“We run in different circles, George. We aren’t kids anymore. We’re barely even friends.”

He clenched his heart, “Ouch. That hurts.”

“Well it’s true!”

“Just because we don’t hang out or talk doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mumbled.

“I bet I know more about you than your so-called friends, Cho and Marietta. In fact, I think I know more about you than Roger.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Is that so? Prove it.”

“Well, I know that your favorite color is purple, your best subject is Charms, and you hate the cold but you love Christmas.”

“That is not that impressive. Roger knows all of that.”

George took a step closer to you, “Does he know that you secretly love watching Muggle movies, you’re ticklish on your left knee and that there’s a little star shaped mole just behind your ear.” He gently tucked your hair behind your ear and ran his finger right over the hidden mole. You looked up into his eyes and felt an unusual feeling that you weren’t sure how to define. For a moment, you thought you saw him leaning in towards you. He was going to kiss you and for some odd reason, you were going to let him. Just as your lips were about to touch he turned away as there was a series of knocks on the door.

“I think our time is up,” you spoke softly. You slid from under his gaze and opened the closet door. “They all bolted…” you stated. The room was full of discarded cups and empty bottles, but no familiar faces to be seen.

“Filch or someone must’ve come by,” he said, “The knock was a warning.” You shrugged and without talking you made your way out of the room. “Heading back to Gryffindor tower?” he asked you. You had briefly thought about going to Ravenclaw tower to check in on Roger, but you decided against it.

The journey was silent, for the most part. Neither of you felt the need to talk. Just as you were about to turn a corner, George grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. You turned back at him confused and he said, “Not that way, we’ll get caught. Filch is usually patrolling that corridor.” You gave him an unamused look, thinking he was just trying to make things difficult when he added, “Trust me.”

You weren’t sure why, but you did trust him. You followed him down a dark hall that you’d never been down before. You hoped he knew where he was going. It was dark and you couldn’t see very well but you didn’t want to give away your position by using Lumos. Out of nowhere, George took your hand and helped guide you down the hallway. You didn’t really understand why he was being so nice to you. You had barely talked over the years, aside from the occasional family gathering.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden pop of light. You looked up and the two of you were face to face with Professor McGonagall.

“Professor,” he spoke.

“Mr. Weasley…Ms. Y/L/N. Is there a reason you two are out of bed past curfew?” she asked you sternly.

“Yes, but it’s not a very good one,” you said. You were toast. If it had been Flitwick or Moody you could’ve talked your way out of it, but McGonagall was too strict. You only hoped your punishment wasn’t too severe.

“Ten points will be taken from Gryffindor. Each. And you will report for detention later this week.”

“Yes ma’am,” George spoke.

“Now back to bed, both of you!” You scurried past her as you realized how close you were to the common room.

“So much for not getting caught,” you muttered.

“Hey, lay off it. I was trying to help,” he snapped. “Sometimes you can be such a bitch,” he added under his breath. You weren’t expecting that, but you admittedly deserved it.

You reached the common room and you went in and immediately went up to your room. You curled up in bed and tried to sleep as best I could.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #weasley twins #fred weasley #fred and george wealey #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #hp fanfic #george weasley one shot #drive me crazy #weasley twins fanfic

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anxiousgaypanicking · 3 years

Text

ever since i posted that thing about logan playing volleyball and remus being a “fan,” its been stuck in my head. so... here’s a lil story about it. it’s been a year since i’ve played, but i remember the rules semi-decently ;) Setting and Swooning

“Set,” Roman shouts, setting the volleyball over his head, and into the middle.

There comes a yell of “mine” before Logan rapidly approaches the ball, jumps up, and swings, spiking it over the net. He barely listens to the scattered yelling of the other team before the referee blows his whistle and straightens his arm on Roman and Logan’s side, indicating a point had been scored for their team.

Roman cheers, and so do the people on the bleachers who were rooting for their team. All except for one. A certain bored brother, who was watching the whole game with unamused and frankly uninterested eyes. He didn’t care enough to learn the rules, and thus watching the game was practically a confusing mess.

Or, that’s what it would be, if Remus actually cared enough to watch the game. Instead, he was more focused on leaning back in the bleachers and eyeing the lower half of the players on the court.

He knew it was considered disrespectful, but the outline of their asses shown clear through the flexible spandex.

Besides, he actually had the consent of one teammate. Initially, he did stare solely because he was bored and perverted in what else could entertain him besides guys and ass, but, after some none too subtle stares, and a whole shocking reveal as Remus found out who that player was, he finally asked if he felt comfortable with Remus continuing to stare.

And surprisingly, he had said yes!

So, he spent his current time staring at the lower half of the player who’s jersey displayed a proud “3″ on the back. Logan.

Most people didn’t realize Logan was even on the volleyball team. He seemed more the reserved and studious type, and while yes, he was, he still liked to keep his body as healthy as his mind.

Plus, sports were a good way to get anger out.

Volleyball specifically showed off his body though. Logan was surprisingly muscular, with rather defined legs and, in Remus’s opinion, a great ass. All the squatting that had to be done in volleyball definitely played a part in both.

When the players start moving again (as there was a pause for rotations, and then as the next server got themselves ready), Remus groans, earning a glare from his mother.

If only she knew his peril. Due to their seats, whenever the players moved, he couldn’t focus entirely on their bodies.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t the point, as one was instead suppose to focus on the literal game being played, but that was irrelevant.

There’s a pause, before a kid tosses the ball up, runs, jumps, and hits it, serving it over the net. There’s a yell of “serve” from the other team, before they all practically go for it at once. Poor communication leads to a poor game being played, and that showed here.

The ball hit the floor, not even being touched by any of the other players, which earned frustrated groans from them, and their coach.

The home team on the other hand, aka Logan and Roman’s team, grinned, and did a short stomp while cheering “A-C-E; ace!” Despite having asked Roman what that meant, he had forgotten. All he really cared about was seeing Logan’s normally so neutral face soften slightly into a slightly proud, slightly relieved smile.

It only really happened during volleyball games. Logan really only emoted during games, whether it be through angry scowls, or pleased cheers. It was unfairly cute.

Deciding he was quite tempted to just run onto the court and scoop Logan up, he sneaks a glance at the scoreboard. 19-7, the home team in the lead, although that wasn’t surprising in the slightest.

The first game had already been played, with the home team winning that as well, which means he only has to wait until one of them (probably the home team) got to twenty-five.

Unfortunately, he was impatient, so he groans again, as his leg bounces rapidly. He was so bored, but he’d rather stare at Logan than his phone, even if the more he stared, the more he wanted to jump onto the court.

Stupid impulses. Stupid urges. Stupid sexy Logan.

There’s another serve, another scramble, another point to the home team, and another cheer from them. Remus could only hope that this one person serves the rest of the game.

And, he almost gets his wish, up until the other time finally bumps the ball, sending a free ball back over. Normally, that would provide an excellent start to an eventual set and spike, but Roman misses his set, the ball not going up high enough, and Logan ends up spiking into the net.

The other team cheers, and the home team looks bitter. Remus watches as the coach pulls them to the side (specifically Roman and Logan) to scold them. It was an easy ball that should have ended with a point for their side. And even if the ball was too low, Logan should know to try setting it or tipping it over the net.

He watches Roman shift his weight back and forth on his feet, presumably ashamed, and watch as Logan’s foot taps rapidly against the ground, annoyed, but focused on receiving the pointers nonetheless.

While he didn’t like hearing that he had messed up or done bad, Logan still enjoyed feedback.

After a few more moments, Roman and Logan run back to their positions, Roman lightly nudging Logan before they stay still and watch the serve.

If Remus didn’t know any better, he’d assume Roman was crushing on the athletic nerd. And, in all honesty, Roman had before. But after being turned down, Roman forced himself to get over it.

Remus likes thinking about that moment. It was upsetting for his brother, of course, but that meant Remus’s sexual (and, he supposed, romantic) feelings had the potential to be returned.

Although, he highly doubted it.

Even if they never would be, at least he still got to stare at that ass every time he was dragged to one of these boring games.

The serve goes over, and Roman shouts “serve!” The libero gets it, bumping it to the front row, where Roman sets it to the front left player. They tip it over, and it hits the ground right past the net, earning cheers for the home team again. Another point is added to their side

The team rotates around again, and as Logan’s rotated back to serve, the libero is rotated out, the middle front player taking their place.

Roman shoots Logan a thumbs up, and Remus leans forward in his seat. He may find volleyball boring, but Logan was an impressive player. And while he jump served, Remus was more focused on the way he approached the jump, before serving the ball over the net.

Roman always gushed about how Logan had such good control, and as Logan’s hard serve barely landed past the net on the opposing team’s side, Remus could low-key see what he meant. A point is given to the home team, and the ball is rolled back to him. Logan adjusts his glasses, before he bounces the ball a few times. He tosses it up, and lets it fall and bounce back against the floor.

He glances to the refs, and one of them whistles, before motioning to the net, indicating Logan was free to serve.

He bounces the ball once more, before tossing it up and jump serving yet again. It’s another short serve, that once again lands right past the net.

There’s angry groans from the opposing team, before Roman hears somebody say “he serves short!”

He watches as they adjust their position accordingly, and Roman turns around to nod to Logan, who nods in return. He serves again, this time regularly, and the ball goes past the front row, and a little past the back. There’s exasperated noises, as they miss it again. 23-8.

“Two more, Logan!” Roman shouts, as they bring it in for another quick ace cheer. The other team members also playfully pat his back and encourage him, and Logan backs up behind the serving line.

“Two more,” he repeats to himself, drawing in a deep breath, before tossing the ball up into the air again, serving it over. The other team hits it, bumps it, specifically, but person they bump it to bumps it over. Logan bumps the free ball to Roman, who serves it to the current middle front player, who tips it over. One of the front row players on the other team tries to get it, but they can’t manage to bump it up, and the ball falls to the floor.

There’s loud cheering. Logan didn’t join in in the premature celebrating, instead shaking his arms and head in an attempt to cure the end of the game jitters.

“One more,” he says, and Roman smiles.

“One more,” the setter repeats. “You’ve got this.”

“One more,” Remus says to himself, staring at the scoreboard, and then looking back at Logan. Logan hits the ball against the ground a few times, before looking over to the bleachers. He makes eye contact with Remus, who grins at him. Even from a distance, Logan can tell Remus is rooting for him.

He never would have expected that the class-clown, and honestly the class hindrance, to genuinely cheer for him (let alone attend a volleyball game, but Remus didn’t have much choice), and it honestly amuses him.

The whistle blows, and Logan takes a deep breath, before tossing the serve up and jump serving it over.

There’s shouts from the other team, as the ball gets just barely bumped up from the floor as a result of a dive, before bumped up again. One of the opposing middle front players jumps up to spike it, and Roman and the middle front player jump up to block it. It hits their hands, before falling back on the opposing side, bumping against the player before falling to the floor. The whistle blows, and there’s a moment of silence as it seems like everyone holds their breaths, waiting for a result.

Did it count? Or were they going to call it a violation.

After what seemed like an eternity, the refs nodding back and forth to each other, they extend their arm to the home team’s side. The final score read 25-8.

Cheering erupted in the gym, with Roman picking Logan up in a hug. Logan looks proud in his own way, a smile over his face. Teammates slap his shoulder and pull him in for hugs, before they line up to shake hands with the opposing team. Afterwards, the coach calls them over to congratulate them.

After that talk, the coach orders them to put away the net and get changed.

Parents and fans stand and cheer, and some of them run out onto the court, Remus included. He wasn’t running to Roman, however, and Roman didn’t expect him to. He runs to Logan instead, immediately hugging him and picking him up. He happily spins him around, cheering “you did it! You fucking did it!”

There’s hardly time to reprimand him for disturbing Logan as he tried to put away the net, before Remus’s has set him down and has immediately moved to running his hands over Logan’s body.

“You’re such a good player,” he says, eyes drifting from Logan’s legs, to his eyes, and then back to his legs. “I mean, I don’t understand the game much, but you’re very strong and you seem to be very good at playing.”

Normally, anyone would grow quickly annoyed with Remus’s rambling, especially if he was both feeling someone up and checking them out while doing so, but Logan didn’t seem to particularly mind. If anything, he was rather amused.

“I appreciate the compliments,” Logan says, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair in an attempt to brush it out of his face. “I need to finish getting down the net, but afterwards I planned to grab some food and head home. Would you care to come with me?”

His parents worked late, so he’d be home alone. He lived within walking distance, and also had the money on him to grab some food, and he decided that walking with Remus would be more fun than walking alone.

“Sure,” Remus replies with a shrug, his hands coming to rest against Logan’s ass. “As long as you promise not to change out of your uniform.”

“What about the knee pads?”

“I suppose you can take off the knee pads.” He groans as he responds, and it earns a soft, and rather cute, laugh from Logan.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Remus was practically swooning as he watched Logan walk away. He appears to effortlessly carry the metal poles back to the storage closet, before he heads to the locker room with a fellow teammate.

And Remus has to admit, he’s started going to the volleyball games willingly, specifically to have interactions like this.

To get the chance to spend time with Logan.

#sanders sides #intrulogical #sanders sides volleyball au?#potential volleyball au?#sanders sides volleyball au #intrulogical volleyball au #remus sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #was this an excuse to basically write about how much i miss volleyball?#yes #sanders sides fluff #agp fluff

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isshebreathing · 3 years

Text

I had an unexpected weekend off and it’s too hot to be outside today, so five stories in one weekend is too much for me to catch up with. Thanks everyone for your positive response so far, I’ll definitely keep working on them.

If you are triggered by dark stuff and death fantasy you can skip part 2 and come straight to part 3 without missing anything.

Chronic Asthma Part 3

We were over staffed at the hospital so I volunteered to leave. I had been working so much that my girlfriend Emily and I were like ships passing in the night. She would have just gotten home from her bar tending shift and we could eat dinner in bed then fall asleep watching a reality show like a normal couple would. Emily has a bachelor’s degree in fine art, but she still bartends because it pays more money. I’ve always felt guilty about that, once I was done with med school I would be able to make more money and she wouldn’t have to work. She could tell the men who made passes at her to fuck off without fear of losing precious tips or worse yet, her job.

“Coming home early” I texted “dinner and tv?”

I didn’t get a response

“???????” I sent.

She might have been in bed, when I called her this evening she sounded tired and short of breath, she said she had been running to catch something.

The thought crossed my mind that Emily was not okay. She had had chronic asthma since she was a child as a result of the poor air quality in the Appalachian town she was raised in. Sometimes late at night I would feel her start awake and I knew she was having a nightmare of one of the two times she had stopped breathing entirely in her life.

I pushed the thought out of my head, Emily had always accused me of overthinking things and turning them into a medical crisis, it was a side effect of seven years of med school I guessed.

I sent another text “Fast food tacos?”

I got no response, “she’s probably in the shower,” I said to myself.

My anxiety didn’t fade though, I thought we had food at home we could make. I ordered a car on my phone to shorten the 45 minutes the train would have taken. I tried to get the thought of my girlfriend struggling to breath on the floor out of my head and tried to replace it with the pleasant warmth and surprise I’d see on her face when I came home early for an unexpected date night.

I bounded up the stairs and opened our door, I was surprised that our cat Walter didn’t come to greet me, he must have been confused by my shortened day.

The kitchen and living room and hallway lights were on, and I could see that our bedroom light was on too, but the shower wasn’t running. “Babe, you left the lights on again,” I said frustratedly expecting her to say “don’t mock my fear of the dark” jokingly in reply but I didn’t hear anything.

“Babe?” I said again with no response.

“Emily?” I said louder, now making my way down the hallway.

I turned into our room and saw my worst fears realized, Emily was laying in the fetal position on the floor, face turned gray, inhaler and nebulizer scattered around her. She had an asthma attack that turned into a breathing crisis, she was in respiratory arrest in front of me.

I rushed over to her and put my face close to hers, “Emily,” I said again trying to shake her awake. She looked into my eyes for a brief moment before they rolled back in her head and fluttered closed. I put two fingers under her chin and felt her heart sputter to a stop, she was in full arrest now.

I saw her cell phone on the floor next to the handset I insisted on keeping because 911 services could better trace your address on a landline. I picked up the handset and realized it was already connected. “Ma’am? Ma’am can you hear me? Help is on the way” a dispatcher says calmly on the other end of the phone.

“Yes, I just walked in and my girlfriend is in full arrest, I’m a doctor, I need an ambulance.”

The dispatcher responds but I don’t care what they say. I lay Emily flat on her back and rip off her fitted bar t-shirt. I grab the knife from my pocket and slice off her bra, exposing her graying chest as her large breast flopped to each side. I started compressions and yelled “Emily you have to come back okay.”

Her lifeless body lay unresponsive, rocking inward as I pounded on her chest, “and ten and eleven and twelve” I push away any thoughts of arousal that I feel from her naked body needing me to pump it’s heart for her. “And twenty-seven, and twenty-eight, and twenty-nine, and thirty” I move up towards her head and tilt it back, I try to give her a puff of air, her cheeks puff out but her chest lays still.

I realize her airway is completely blocked and run to get the medical bag I keep in my closet, I pour iodine on her throat and place my knee on her forehead to stabilize her.

I have seen this procedure done in the real world twice, once on a training video and once in my ER rotation, I have never actually done the procedure. My mind goes into a trance, I am no longer a frantic girlfriend I am a medical professional performing a medical routine. I grab a scalpel and make a small slice in the skin of her throat covering her trachea, I make a few more careful slices though skin and fat and muscle taking care not to slice too deep. I take some gauze and soak up the blood as I find the trachea. I put a small slice in the organ and mucus and blood immediately start coming up, I place my two fingers into the hole so I don’t lose it and grab one of the clear plastic tubes I had set out for the procedure, I slip the tube into her trachea as a sickening gurgle lets out all of the fluid that had been stuck in her airway. I snapped on a breathing tube and an ambu bag. I began to breathe for her. Her chest rising each time I squeezed breath into her.

The adrenaline of the initial crisis was fading fast. I was trying to do compressions with one hand and respirations with the other. Emily had told me horror stories about air hunger and how terrifying it was, I needed to help her heart beat and also keep air going to her lungs.

I started to panic because I didn’t know what to do next, do I just keep her partially alive until help comes? How long could she stay this way?

I choked down my panic as the EMT’s rushed in, and took over, I was surprised how aroused I was seeing a man forcefully pump my girlfriends chest while someone else squeezes a bulb to breathe for her.

I snap back into the present as the third medic is asking me questions. “She’s 28 years old, she has a history of asthma, no known history of a heart condition…..”

My mind trails off as the severity of what is happening hits me, I lose my composure and start to sob and I begged, “Emily please stay here with me, please stay alive,”

I watch the scene unfold as the paramedics put two white pads on Emily’s chest, one between her breasts and one On her side. I lose all medical knowledge as I watch a surge of electricity shoot through her body contorting it in an unnatural horror. The shock does nothing, the v-fib that the drugs gave her has turned into a flatline.

I watch in horror as the slip a board under her to raise her chest more, making her large and graying breasts fall further to the side, they snap a machine over her and turn it on, the machine makes an unnatural squeaking noise as it beats on her chest 100 times a minute.

I forget that I am a doctor, I forget my medical training, this isn’t a case in front of me this is the woman I love.

“Are you hurting her?” I ask as the machine pounds into her over and over and over again.

“We need to beat her heart for her,” the paramedic replies.

For a moment I think it’s too much, her hands are strapped to the side of the machine that is violently pounding her chest, making her shoulders shift inwards, her belly bulge, and feet rock inward with each compression pounding into her battered body. A tube sticks unnaturally out of her mouth attached to a blue bulb that someone has to squeeze to make her chest rise with breath. “It’s too much to expect her body to take this to stay.” I think, but thought of living without her snaps me back to reality. I am almost a doctor, a medical professional, I will do anything it takes to keep my girlfriend alive even if it’s with machines.

They load her into the back of the ambulance and despite my protests make me sit in the front with the driver.

I text my colleague in the ER, “headed in with Emily, bad asthma attack to full arrest, get prepped to start life support. I can’t lose her”

“Oh god Jen, we will do whatever it takes” she replies.

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thediamondgirl17 · 3 years

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Alpha!Goshiki x Omega!Reader: That Day In The Gym (SFW-ish) Part 4

Oh. My. GOSH! I got so many notes, and so many comments for this part! So to all the Anons who wanted more posted! I got you! I would have tagged the person who suggested this ‘jealousy’ chapter, but they were Anon! I hope you see this! To all the others who want to be tagged, feel free to leave a comment or message me separately, I will be happy to tag you in it! If you also have ideas for this story or maybe a different one, feel free to leave a comment in my ask box!

You may be asking, “Writer! Why is this SFW-ish! And not full SFW?” Well, my amazing readers, that is because I plan on making the end of this chapter a bit...steamy? I guess...Is that the word? I don’t know. However! If you WOULD like a NSFW chapter, I JUST might be able to make that happen for you!

Another side note: I have been a bad writer...I LOST MY NOTES FOR THIS STORY! UGH! But- it’s okay! I made new ones! Some information about the characters may change like ‘I thought this person was a Beta and their scent was this?’ Well it might have changed because of my lost notes, but bear with me here! I tried my best to remember!

I think I’ve kept you all long enough! Here is Part 3 if you haven’t read that yet, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

When the purpled haired Alpha dropped you back off at your dorm, your face was pink and chest filled with the butterfly feelings from your first kiss. He had bid you a goodnight before heading off to his own dorm before he was caught out after lights out. However, the both of you could hardly sleep soundly after what had happened. Both of your hearts were pounding loudly from it, and neither of your heads would let that moment leave them.

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When you had walked into practice the next day in the afternoon, your cheeks heated up a bit when Goshiki walked in. In response to that, the wing spiker’s own cheeks heated up and he felt himself become bashful in your presence. Of course the two of you would be shy, you HAD just started dating and all. A ball had rolled your way, and you reached down to grab it. You stood up and handed him the ball with a small blush, his hands brushed against yours as he touched it and both your faces got a little hotter at that.

“So you finally did it huh? Found yourself a cute little Omega!” Tendou cooed softly with a small smile. Both of you stiffened up a bit and gulped.

“W-we aren’t-,”

“H-he isn’t m-my-,” You both paused and looked at one another then gulped.

“W-well...she is...my...,” The wing spiker said softly and looked away from them. Tendou offered a small shit-eating smile

“Ya’ know coach won’t let you two be all lovey during practice...And you two are going to have to tell him~,” He teased. You shook your head all nervously.

“W-well w-we won’t...T-there is no reason to at the moment...,” You gulped and looked down. Goshiki nodded in agreement with your statement. If nothing changed, then why would they have to tell him about the two of you?

“Line up everyone.” Coach Washijo said sternly, causing the small personal side practices to pause and all of the players lined up. “You too Omega.” He spat. You tensed up.

“W-where do you want me to stand?”

“Just stand next to Ushijima for now.” He placed his hands behind his back and you stood next to the tall Apex Alpha next to you. The scent of fresh potting soil and mountain dew flooded your senses. It didn’t help either that your heat was only a few days away, so you got more affected by it than normal.

“Tomorrow we will be having a practice match with one of the college teams we played earlier in the season. Be ready for that, since this is a game I expect you to win even if it is only for practice or not.” He paused. “Omega, you will be keeping score.” He said as if it was the only thing you were good for. You nodded a bit and hummed in response. And after a while of him talking and scolding the team for this and that, he let everyone loose again to practice on their own.

“You’re gonna get to see me play for real tomorrow!” Goshiki said with a smile during his water break. You flushed and looked off to the side.

“You’re going to be great.”

“As the next future Ace of Shiratorizawa, I have to be great!” He said tilting his head up in a proud way.

“Well I think that you’re great...Next Ace or not...,” You said looking down at your fingers.

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The next afternoon had rolled around fairly quickly. However, this afternoon had proven to be a bit much for yourself alone. You had been setting up the gym, cleaning, getting uniforms ready, getting water ready, and much more. Nobody was allowed to help you due to the fact that they had to do more intense stretching and warm ups. Goshiki would watch you run back and forth along the gym to get everything ready, and he couldn’t help the small smile that crept up on his face when he watched you work so hard for the team.

You had just finished putting out waters for both teams, already filled when they had come in. It was a group of 11 boys, and what seemed to be no female manager. Your instincts had told you that they were all Betas and Omegas.

‘Typical for a sports team...,’ You thought to yourself. You looked down at the ground as the team walked past you. You honestly couldn’t help it, it was instinct.

“Nice to see you again Coach Washijo...Thank you for having us.” The captain said with a bow to the coach. In suit others bowed and said their thanks as well. The old Coach just lifted his hand up to stop them.

“Thank you for coming to play us.” He said in his usual cold demeanor. “However, you said there would be one more of you as well as an Omega.”

“One of our team mates got his rut a little early,” The captain said standing up straight. “Our Omega is taking care of him.”

Almost on cue, you and Tendou looked at each other with a grossed out face. Not only did the captain just state that the teams Omega took care of their ruts, but also that this Omega belonged to all of them. Which was the complete opposite of respect.

“As they should.” Washijo nodded. Your face had heated up from embarrassment and shame. Why? You had no clue, but you gulped harshly and looked down.

“I think we should get this game started!” Tendou chimed in with his usual strange antics, however you had known that he had just wanted the topic changed due to the fact that you were both extremely uncomfortable with the situation.

“Omega.” Washijo said sternly. “Introduce yourself.” You stiffened up and stepped forward.

“H-hello! My name is (F/n) (L/n), I’m the manager of this team. I will be supplying water and towels during this game. Please let me know if you need something.” You said with a small bow.

“Oh I definitely need something from you Omega.” One of the teams members had said. You stood up straight and just looked away from him, disgusted. Goshiki walked over and placed his hand on your shoulder.

“She is part of our pack.” He warned and them with the simple phrase.

“Let’s get on with it.” Ushijima said and turned, heading to the end of the court to do the first bows before the game started.

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The game had started and Shiratorizawa won the first set by 5 points. Due to the fact that you were not able to be everywhere at once (Much to Washijo’s disappointment) the other coach changed the numbers while you got clean towels and full bottles of water for everyone. Every once in a while though you would pause a moment to watch the game. You were still fairly new to it, so you were still learning. However, even watching as a beginner, you watched the purple haired Alpha with admiration in your eyes. His own eyes would travel for a split second while he spiked the ball, over to you. And when he noticed you were watching, his straights were extra straight and powerful. Then when his feet would hit the floor and he would turn to you, you would turn away and blush. However, the other team had noticed this as well.

The ball had dropped to the opposing teams side and rolled past you while you were folding towels. You looked down at it and then looked behind you to see if it had come from there.

“Get that for us Omega.” The captain from the opposite team said. You stiffened up, hating the way he called you by your title instead of your name, as if you were worth less than him. You bent down and picked it up only to hear cat-calls and whistles when you had bent down. Now your own and Goshiki’s face had become red. Yours from embarrassment, and his own from anger. You picked up the ball and walked to the captain. You held out your arm and muttered something. “What was that?” The captain said with a smirk.

“I-I have a name...,” You said softly.

“Yeah. And you have a title.”

“I would prefer you use my name.”

“No.” He said. And you looked down at your feet and the floor and walked off the court. He was an Alpha, his word was final against yours.

“She said, to use her name.” Came a voice from the opposite side of the net. Goshiki.

“What’s it to you bowl cut?” The captain asked turning to face him. Both of them had been rotated up front so they were face to face at the net.

“Enough.” Ushijima said in a strong voice, one that made both of the Alphas look away from him on instinct. From that point on the game continued with a tense silence between the captain and first year wing spiker of Shiratorizawa.

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Once the game was over, you had found yourself relaxed a bit. Everyone had their towels and their drinks and should have been good...except...

“Omega.” The captain said shaking is bottle in a rude way. “I want more.” You looked up at him and sighed, standing up you went over and took his bottle from him. This earned a slide glance from Goshiki.

“...I have a name...” You said softly and swiped the bottle from him. He then put his hand around your waist and smirked.

“And I told you that I don’t care...Now be a good little Omega or else I’ll have to teach you a lesson about respecting you Alphas.” He snarled. In an instant Goshiki found himself holding the guy’s wrist with his hand, leaving you enough room to wiggle out of his grip, which you did.

“Don’t touch her.” Goshiki said in a low tone.

“Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it bowl cut?” The captain smirked. This caught the attention of both teams and the coaches.

“Goshiki. Let go of him now.” Coach Washijo said sternly, however the Alpha didn’t listen and stared down the other Alpha in front of him. In a battle of titles, Washijo had no power.

“I’ll hurt you.” He warned and felt his jaw tighten as the purple haired boy held the guy’s wrist tighter.

“Bring it on-,” The captain began. However before he could finish you had cut in. You turned to face Goshiki and shoved your wrist under his nose where your scent glands were. Visibly everyone could see how his eyes went from intimidating and almost borderline feral, to calm and relaxed. He let go of the guy’s wrist and held your hand closer to his face, your scent covering his senses and he sighed softly at the smell. Both teams went on cleaning up after that, leaving the rest of the day to end in a tense silence.

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When Goshiki was walking the both of you back to the dorms. The same tense silence filled between you besides some of his commentary, which comprised of things such as:

“Some Alphas are assholes...,”

“Omegas shouldn’t be treated that way.”

“That guy gets under my skin.” You didn’t pay much mind to what he was saying until he stopped walking and looked at the ground. You paused a few steps ahead of him and looked behind yourself to see him staring at the ground.

“Tsutomu?” You asked softly.

“I-...I wanna scent you!” He said abruptly and looked up with pink cheeks, clenched fists, and a determined look on his face. Both the statement and his boldness had caused you yourself to blush violently under the small light on the side of the walkway back to the dorms.

“Th-thats s-so i-intimate th-though...,” You said softly. Suddenly, you felt him take a quick stride forward and held your hands in his. His were much larger than yours and enveloped them.

“B-but I want everyone to know your mine! W-well n-not mine a-as in I see you like your just an object-! B-but mine as in...Nobody else can have you...,” His voice slowly trailed off as he went on. “A-and my dorm mate is out and won’t be back for two days! He went to visit family! S-So we can do it in my dorm!”

“I-its past lights out...,” You said softly.

“(Y/n)?...S-stop deflecting the suggestion...,” He said looking down into your eyes.

“...Y-yeah...L-lets do it-” You started, but before you could finish you felt the purple haired boy quickly drag you along to his dorm room. And you had suddenly realized, you had never been inside Goshiki’s dorm room before.

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When the two of you had finally got to the dorm, you knew it was going to smell like him, but you didn’t know it would be the thing that fully enveloped your senses. You stepped inside and you smelled nothing but warm lavender and it made you close your eyes and hum. In return this caused the purple haired boy to blush and pull you further into his room.

He sat you down on his bed and closed the window curtains and locked the doors to his dorm. The two of you had remained in your school uniforms due to the fact that you had both just gotten out of practice and changed into non-sweaty clothing. He gulped, and pink dusted his cheeks as he climbed into his bed with you. In return your felt your own cheeks get hot. Goshiki had laid down on his back with his back against the wall, in a sitting-upright position. Then he pulled you on top of him with your chests pushed together and burried his face in the crook of your neck. Slowly he took a deep inhale of your scent while he dragged his wrists along your sides.

“So beautiful...,” He cooed softly into your neck. “Y-your so pretty...And your scent is so nice...I could drown in it...,” He cooed and kept dragging his wrists along you. You gulped from embarrassment and lifted your hands up to him and gently slid them along his neck and shoulders, which were the only areas you currently had access to.

And for a while it had gone just like that. Small kisses on scent glands, hands dragging down each other in an intimate and passionate way. Sweet nothings were whispered to one another, and deep kisses were also not a rare thing either. The actions made both your hearts flutter in sync and left the both of you drowning in a sweet mixture of warm lavender and your own scent. It was only when his hands reached down and gripped your hips to pull you closer to him, that you felt yourself snap. Your pupils had dilated and you were softly panting. Goshiki had noticed the sudden change in your demeanor and looked down at you.

“A-are you okay?” He asked. However it took you a moment to respond.

“...My heat...,” You panted out. “...Came early...,”

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Taglist: @officialfictionalwreck @stanwallpapers @kyrah-williams @samwise-though @steggy4ever

If you want to be added to the tag list just let me know and I will happily do that!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x y/n #shiratroizawa #goshiki #goshiki x reader #omegaverse #omega reader #anime

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gffa · 4 years

Note

hi!!! could you maybe recommend me some books/sources of information on how jedi order works?? wookieepedia is a little overwhelming to me lmao, and i kinda wanted to plan a fic about crèche master anakin, but that requires a lot of information about how raising younglings and clans work, more than i know at the moment!! thank you!

Hi! I have a meta guide for everything we know about the Jedi in canon here: Taking a Closer Look at the Jedi Order in Star Wars Canon [Meta/Reference Guide] You’ll find the most in chapters 3 and 4, which is really only a handful of mentions about the creche (you can just ctrl+F for mentions, if you want)--the problem is that there really isn’t any book or source of information on how the Jedi Order works. This area of worldbuilding has really been done almost nothing with it, especially because there are two separate continuities, where you have Canon and you have Legends. Legends probably has more details, but it’s always been non-canon to George Lucas’ Star Wars and so it really just kind of did its own thing (which often led to some amazing stories! Legends is a continuity that has a ton of value and meaning to people! but it also often contradicted what the Jedi were actually like because much of it was created pre-Attack of the Clones, so there weren’t even the three main movies out yet, much less The Clone Wars being out), which means you’re absolutely free to use it, but be wary of how it’s not always consistent. There’s not really even a source of information on what the Force feels like or how it works, aside from the interviews George Lucas has given on these things, which likely informs how canon attempts to treat these things, as they’ve said they’re trying to stay true to his themes now (for example--Legends often had “grey Force users” being stable, but canon now works according to George’s statements of how that’s not possible, the dark side corrupts, you have to actively resist it or you’ll fall to it), because not much worldbuilding has been done on this aspect of them. Instead, you have to piece together what we get in bits and bobs in the canon, which is what I’ve done with the above. If you want, you can read stuff like the Jedi Apprentice books, but they’re pretty firmly not canon anymore (like they had an age limit of 13, which has been overwritten by canon, where Ahsoka was 14 when she became a Padawan, there was a youngling in Dooku: Jedi Lost who was 16 and indicated they’d have to wait another year, there was no indication of impending age limit, even in Legends there was a book that had a 17 year old initiate who would have to keep trying) and so, again, you’re pretty free to make up whatever you like about the way Jedi creches work. The few things we do know, as mentioned in the above link: - On arrival at the Temple, Initiates are sorted into clans to help them foster trust and kinship. [Dooku: Jedi Lost] - When a Jedi youngling becomes a Padawan, they seem to go from the creche to partnering with their Master, though, first there are conversations with the crechemaster and the Master at some point: Obi-Wan said, “You know, I never had problems with that as a youngling. Being independent, I mean. I broke rules right and left. They even called me rebellious. Probably the Masters were surprised anyone was willing to take me on as an apprentice.” In fact, Qui-Gon had been warned about this very thing. He’d long since assumed that the crèche masters’ concern was overcautious. [Master and Apprentice] - Yaddle spends at least some time in the creche, whether regularly or they have rotating ones, is anyone’s guess, but she was there when Qui-Gon was a youngling: “Only yesterday, Dooku had chosen [Qui-Gon] as Padawan. He’d spent his last night in the younglings’ crèche laughing with his friends, imagining all the adventures he would have, and practicing with his lightsaber in the sparring room until Master Yaddle ordered him to bed.“ [Master and Apprentice] - They teach the younglings about the Force there: “Qui-Gon whispered, “The dark side?” He knew it was a thing all beings carried within them, a part of himself he would learn to guard against—the crèche masters had taught him all that. But it still sounded a little like some kind of ghost or monster, a mysterious thing that would leap out from the shadows to get you when you weren’t looking.” [Master and Apprentice], which is a direct echo of George Lucas explaining the Force: “ Only way to overcome the dark side is through discipline. The dark side is pleasure, biological and temporary and easy to achieve. The light side is joy, everlasting and difficult to achieve.” (George Lucas, Clone Wars writers meeting) - These bonds do seem to be significant, to at the very least some degree, as Obi-Wan thinks of his “creche-mate” even when he’s 17, indicating that possibly they’re often lifelong friends: Obi-Wan’s crèche-mate Prie, for instance, had been partnered with a Master who was expert in two things [....] [Master and Apprentice] - The younglings in the creche seem to sleep near each other (I have a personal headcanon that they sleep in piles, all cuddled up with each other, because Space Psychics) because they seem to often gossip with each other night by candle droid: In Dooku: Jedi Lost there is a gossip story passed around about a possibly expelled Padawan long ago, one that keeps getting passed around by Initiates telling stories by glow lanterns at night, which indicates that it’s considered juicy enough/surprising enough that it doesn’t seem to happen much/if at all. - We do see Yoda and Tera Sinube teaching classes of younglings as well, so they’re probably familiar to almost every youngling who passes through the creches. Whether these classes are based on the younglings’ clans or if they’re randomized, we have no idea, though. I’m assuming that at least some of them were based on clans, because we see Yoda teaching Bear Clan in Attack of the Clones, which also gives us an indication of the size of them--probably somewhere between four and eight.

We also see in Dooku: Jedi Lost that Dooku was part of the Hawk-Bat Clan, which often did things together, that Dooku spent time with Thranta Clan, while Tera Sinube spent more time with Heliost Clan. It’s probably reasonable to assume that the Jedi younglings from “The Gathering” are a clan as well, showing that they do things together fairly often:

Though, we see two other younglings there and Ganodi doesn’t seem to be part of the group, assuming that that’s Gungi, Byph, Petro, and Zatt with her. But we do see Tera Sinube spending time with them here and again later, when they’re practicing with their lightsabers:

Though, again, we see more than just that one clan--unless the two other younglings are part of their clan and just weren’t on that specific trip to Ilum with the others? Entirely possible there, too. But that’s it, that’s all we know. Anything else isn’t canon/never really was and can be fun to use, but I often find it doesn’t really fit well with what we’re shown in The Clone Wars or with George’s themes for SW. I think it makes sense, though, that it works like a communal society, where there are crechemasters who look after the children in their little mini-family clans, helping shepherd them to their classes, who shoo the children to bed at night and take care of them, talk with them about the things they need to know, work to help ease the transition when they become apprentices, etc. (As a note: If you’re reading Wookieepedia, even on the canon pages, they’ll reference The Jedi Path: A Manual for Students of the Force sometimes, but be wary, as that book is very firmly not canon. Elements of it may be recanonized, but only what appears in books like Dooku: Jedi Lost, Master and Apprentice, Choose Your Destiny: Obi-Wan & Anakin, Age of the Republic: Obi-Wan Kenobi, etc. are actually canon.)

#Anonymous #jedi order #meta #long post

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novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: 2.2K~

Summary: A series of shorts detailing what might’ve happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.

Greg apparently had a LOT on his mind, because this was supposed to be short and instead it’s over 2000 words, ahah. Final chapter!

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

Chapter warning: Allusions to past non-canon character suicide.

____

Chapter 6: Greg

Hours pass.

Bismuth makes quick and quiet work of replacing the cracked slider door in Steven’s room while he sleeps, and secures a thick tarp over the open front of the house to keep the coastal breeze somewhat at bay until she can finish her repairs to the windows and siding. She warns that might take a day or two. Garnet, meanwhile, busies herself the rest of the afternoon and evening fielding all of the Diamonds’ frazzled calls, and reassuring them of the boy’s current stability. Pooling their knowledge, Dr. Maheswaran and Peridot make sure to confirm that. Beyond some minor scarring, neither his organic or Gem half seems to exhibit any serious physical health conditions in consequence of what happened today, news which works to ever so slightly lift the air of the household. With no other concrete tasks to complete, Pearl, Amethyst, Lapis, Connie, and Greg all rotate between sweeping debris off the floor, wandering the beach to mentally recuperate, and dutifully sitting at Steven’s side as he rests. It may not sound like a lot, but alas the level of emotional labor demanded by such a situation is immense.

All in all, the sun’s long since dipped below the horizon by the time Greg finally collapses onto the mattress laid out in the back of his van, craving if but a moment of privacy and respite from all the chaos. It’s been... an insufferably long day, to put it lightly. Busy. Tons of cleaning, and intercepting nosy neighbors, and bedside monitoring...

He offered to take the first night shift watching Steven a few minutes ago, but Pearl must’ve noticed the dark circles creeping ever wider under his eyes, because she proceeded to gently overturn his offer and remind him of humanity’s daily sleep requirement. And she’s right, of course. He can’t stay up as long as he used to in his twenties anymore. Plus, he probably deserves some time to himself after everything that’s transpired. There’s plenty of Gems left in the house who can keep watch, after all. Steven will be fine for a few hours. Surely nothing else can happen when he’s asleep, right?

Right??

Exhaustedly slumping against the side wall, Greg offers a glassy, vacant stare at the contacts list of his phone, roughly wiping the damp from his cheeks with his other hand as his thumb hovers over one of the numbers. Does he dare drag someone else into this whole situation? Surely the kinder solution would be to refrain from widening the circle any more, from letting anyone else learn about today’s harrowing events. And yet if he fails to find a proper outlet for the raw emotions all of this has violently hauled to the surface, he fears he just may suffer a mental break himself, repressed memories bursting like a vicious flood through the dam he desperately tried to seal them behind all those years back. Much of this is just... far too familiar.

His phone slips right through his trembling hands as the cruel reality of what he witnessed today finally begins to carve its indelible presence in his mind. A strained sob leaking from between his tightly pursed lips, he buries his head between his knees, clutching at the worn bottom hem of his jean shorts like an infant to a parent’s finger. Small. Vulnerable.

Helpless.

His son... oh stars, his only son, he—

He can’t talk about any of this to the Gems; they wouldn’t wholly grasp the uniquely human nature of his concerns. And he doesn’t feel comfortable discussing these matters with Dr. Maheswaran, especially not after the stern words she dealt to him back at the hospital. He’s burdened her enough already, by this point. No, there’s only one fellow human he feels close enough with to engage in this sort of conversation.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he reaches for the phone he dropped on the mattress. Turns it on. Nervously clamps down on his bottom lip as he selects his cousin’s contact and dials.

The passing heartbeats slamming against his ribs are almost nauseating in their needy clamor as he waits, his calloused fingers tapping against the thick rubber of his phone case. Andy’s never been a particularly tech savvy guy, so honestly, it’s well within reason he might not even carry his phone on his person to answer. And that’d be fine, really. In fact, he might even prefer it, since he’s still not confident he’s emotionally prepared to discuss any of this at this precise moment, anyways. But just as he’s beginning to undergo mental preparations for what on Earth he might leave as a voicemail message, his older family member finally picks up.

“Greg?” Andy’s gravelly voice rings through, sounding somewhat tinny through their connection. “Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s the ol’ Universe family unit doin’?”

“Not great, honestly,” he narrowly manages in response, his throat constricting tight. “That’s kinda why I’m calling, if you have the time to listen?”

“Heh. I’m a drifter, you know I ain’t got no schedule. Carry on.”

“Well... geeze, how do I put this. There was, uh... a bit of an incident today. With Steven.”

“An incident?” his cousin questions, marked worry immediately painting his tone. “The kid okay??”

He falls silent for a few seconds upon this question, threading his hyperactive digits through the split ends in his hair on automatic, a stress-induced habit. “Unclear,” he says, a slight quiver making itself intimately known in his words. “I mean, physically, at the moment, yes, but—“

He cuts off once more. It suddenly occurs to him that little of today’s events would make sense to Andy without providing the appropriate context. Or, at least, what little context he’s capable of giving as a father. It’s still terrifying to admit the truth to himself— that he doesn’t possess the full story. That he hasn’t been paying close enough attention. That, in many ways, he willfully blinded himself to all the troubling events transpiring around his son throughout the years, foolishly believing that if he didn’t involve himself... that if he simply stayed out of the Gems’ hair... everything would go to plan, and Steven would finally receive the training he needed. He didn’t expect things would grow so complicated.

He didn’t expect that his teenage son would have to march into battle carrying nothing but his wits and a shield time and time again.

With a weary sigh and a quick apology, to which Andy brushes off, Greg begins to weave a verbal picture of everything that’s transpired across the last few days. First, the hospital call. Rushing home from tour, only to find his son giant and flushed pink, literally filling an entire room with the sheer volume of his trauma. The shattered x-ray in his chart, hinting towards hidden hurts that— before all this— even Steven seemingly hadn’t processed or quantified. Then, the road trip. The unwanted reminders of his childhood. That blasted CD. His expression sobers as he describes the fateful argument they had on the road home, one which lead to his son accidentally breaking the steering wheel and flipping the van. Next... his disappearance. No texts for four whole days, which is so unlike him. He was worried sick. And the next time he saw him, he was eight feet tall, glowing, and painfully manic in behavior, with each new sentence spilling from his mouth revealing an even more heartbreaking picture of the sort of poor mental state he’d spiraled into. It was nothing short of a father’s worst nightmare, propelled into horrifying, vivid reality.

Nothing in this corner of the galaxy could’ve prepared him for the primal surge of terror and anguish he was engulfed within when that nightmare distorted and transformed even further.

His only son... colossal and coated in thick scales and spines, sclera black as night... roughly clawing at this unfamiliar form, smashing his skull against the cliffside, roaring with an inner pain so primal that the sound now haunts the depths of his very soul—

“I- you remember what happened with cousin Jo, back when we were young?” Greg says softly once he’s caught Andy up with the details of situation, his voice frail and unsteady, the tone of a man helplessly marooned amidst his anxieties. “Before she was sent to that mental rehab place? Well, I’m... with the addition of Gem magic, it almost felt like that. I mean, h-he’s fine for now, we have him resting, but... but I’m just so scared he won’t come out of this, like her, a-a-and that one day he’ll—“

A mewling sob bubbles up in his throat, swiftly severing that train of thought. N-no. No, he refuses to even utter that horrible idea out loud! After all, a world without Steven in it isn’t worth envisioning.

Andy’s eventual response— albeit tinged with a justified shade of awkwardness, given the emotionally charged nature of this conversation— is filled with genuine compassion, and for that he’s dearly thankful.

“Aw, hell... Greg, I’m- I’m so sorry. I, uh- I could fly over, if any of ya’ need me? For emotional support, or whatever?”

Upon this kind offer, he inhales deep to steady his breath, and wipes away dewy beads of moisture from the corner of his eyes, desperately hoping that he can mitigate the pitiful wavering of his voice over the phone. He’s gotta fight to reliably keep some form of composure in front of other people, damnit. His kid can’t have his dad breaking down around him too, of course.

“No, you’ve got places to be,” he replies evenly, pressing his thumb and pointer against one of his aching temples. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You ain’t asking,” he retorts, the eye-roll evident in his tone. “I’m offering. Listen- family takes care of family, y’hear? And I’m only about a day’s flight away, anyways. It’s really the least I could do.”

He sighs. Absentmindedly tugs at a thick strand of his hair. Offers a long, contemplative stare at the rickety age-worn handle affixed to the inside of the van’s back doors. Truth be told— ignoring his deep-seated guilt at dragging Andy into all this to begin with— he’d love having another family member around to embrace, especially a human one who can more deeply understand the crux of his anxieties about this delicate situation. But in the end, he shouldn’t be prioritizing his own feelings and comfort. He’s not the one in crisis, his son is.

Desperately hoping he’s making the right choice, Greg flexes his fingers, and acquiesces to the offer, on one condition: only if Steven consents to having visitors, once he’s awake.

Andy hums in approval. “Understood. Don’t wanna overload the poor guy with any surprise visits, or whatever.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want to do is push him too hard, too fast.”

He pauses, braving waves of parental grief to spend a moment to reflect on Steven’s emotional progression over the past few months... a stray negative comment here, an unusually forlorn mannerism there... All of them events that, in isolation, wouldn’t point to anything more than your standard ‘teenage angst,’ but when observed in strong, unceasing patterns, begin to reveal deeply harrowing truths about the state of an individual’s self-image. How did he never notice? Why wasn’t he there to catch him in his fall?

“I think he hates himself,” he says quietly, his voice hitching up at the end. “He didn’t say so directly, but- but I can sense it. And I don’t know how to help him, I-I... I don’t know if I can.”

“Nonsense,” his cousin scoffs, “‘course ya’ know what to do! What does any good father worth their salt give their sons?”

Unable to evade the momentary temptation of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, he slumps back against the wall, giving a weak shrug that his current audience would never see.

“I dunno, maybe a stable, safe childhood? Not growing up poor as dirt in a van?”

“No, you numbskull,” Andy immediately cuts back, “you love on ‘em and support ‘em just as much as you always have! Y’ show him that you’re always gonna be there for him, and that he can trust you with anything.”

“But I haven’t always been there for him,” he exclaims petulantly. “That’s the whole problem! That’s one of the reasons he ended up like this.”

“Greg,” he says, his voice softer this time. “Listen to me, ain’t nobody perfect, okay? We’ve all made our mistakes with people. Me? More than most. But what we can’t do is let those mistakes cloud what’s happening right now. Y’know, that’s one of the hard lessons I’ve had to learn over the past two years, that you can’t always make things about you. Because right now, it’s about him. He’s dealin’ with some hard feelings, and he needs all of our help. So, let’s help him. Together. We’ll start with one foot in front of us, and we can take it from there. All right?”

Closing his weary, exhausted eyes and pressing his thumb firm against his still-aching temple, Greg Universe gives a long sigh and finally concedes to the reality that— just as he’s not solely responsible for the decline of his son’s mental state— no man should be an island when it comes to the task of supporting one’s journey towards recovery. As with everything, the extended Universe family unit will face the future together, hand-in-hand. Step-by-step.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think that’s do-able.”

#su #su future #greg universe #andy demayo #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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nicotinemaiden · 3 years

Text

Such Great Heights

I am thinking it's a sign That the freckles in our eyes Are mirror images And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned

And I have to speculate That God Himself did make Us into corresponding shapes Like puzzle pieces from the clay

And true it may seem like a stretch But it's thoughts like this that catch My troubled head when you're away A nd when I am missing you to death

[ The Postal Service ]

[Chapter 3 of Mistake Series dedicated to @ccprovolomies for proposing the beautiful song that inspired me to write it. Thank you so much!!]

Read on AO3 →

The third, a proclamation.

The blood felt warm on his skin, at the corner of his mouth, dripping down his lower lip. That last hit had come close. Not as close as the open wound in his stomach but close enough to crack his lip in two. He lifted his hand to wipe the iron liquid from his face, as much as it was possible, and kept looking ahead, towards the hooded figure that looked at him in return holding a silver dagger in his left hand and several injuries along his legs and arms. He moved slowly to the side, limping yet still more graceful than normal people. The sunset started to vanish slowly behind him, making the shadows of the trees creeping on them a little bit more unsettling.

He could hear footsteps running towards him. It won’t be long until he wasn’t alone anymore, he just had to wait, to lose time, to slow him down as much as possible. His left hand pushed against the wound begging it to stop bleeding even for a moment, to stop making him so freaking dizzy and just let him throw the knife at the right place. Breathing deeply, he decided that his condition wasn’t as important as his mission and, whatever happened, he had to stop him long enough for the other knights to come. He couldn’t let go of this person, this trained assassin that knew where his target was and had no intention of missing this chance.

He hadn’t said a word but Obi didn’t really need any kind of confirmation about it. He could see the desperation in his eyes, the willingness to do anything to complete his task. And that was the problem. The most deadly people are the ones with nothing to lose and a lot to gain. So he fixed his golden gaze on the one ahead and dashed towards it.

Her eyes were still green and bright - not so bright as they had been these last couple of weeks but bright enough for someone who knew her well to know that there was something different about her - happiness that wasn’t there before and now consumed her almost entirely. Her comb slid through her hair as it would do through threads of silk, leaving it on top of her shoulders. It had grown so long since that fateful night when she had to cut it to save her freedom that sometimes the memory seemed more like a dream. She could almost believe it.

But looking at herself in the mirror she was… glad it happened. The consequences of that night brought her here. And she smiled at her reflection, searching for the girl from that night in her expression, in her eyes, in her hair. She was the same yet completely different - stronger, more confident, more knowledgeable.

She remembered Obi’s face on top of hers the night before, the look on his eyes as they travelled down her body once again for so long he might as well have painted it, and, with a blush taking hold of her face, thought that maybe she was more beautiful, more mature, more attractive.

She was no longer the young eighteen-year-old girl that ran from her home with hopes of not being discovered. She was an official pharmacist for the kingdom, she was a friend for the people who cared about her and, lately, she was a girlfriend and a lover, she was cared for, she was loved in return.

Shirayuki always thought stupid the concept that love changes people. Yes, maybe she was braver before because she had a goal - to prove herself, not only to other people but to herself. And she’d done it time after time and she was comfortable with things as they were. But until now she hadn’t really grasped the meaning of that phrase, the way your world fills with colors that you didn’t even know existed, the pressure on your heart every time something reminds you of that person and the extreme satisfaction and happiness of knowing that that person feels the same way.

Even knowing that Zen was at the mansion and he could be here at the pharmacy at any moment her smile grew brighter as she distanced herself from the small mirror and returned to the office. This time it was a planned visit, everything legal with documents and paperwork, and as such, he had to make an official entrance with official tea and conversation. Only thinking about it tired her out. The only thing that she could do was wait while working. If only she could have Obi with her to listen to his comments and gossip.

“Mitsuhide!”

Kiki’s voice distracted him but not enough to fail this time. His kick landed perfectly on the back of the head of the assassin in front of him, knocking him out. As quickly as his body allowed him he moved to his companions, blocking a dagger centimetres from his face and looking back only a second. Miss Kiki had moved to the side of Mister, who was unconscious on the floor, blood pouring from his head. A blunt hit. He inspected the new opponent - besides his dagger he had a sword on his other hand, the handle bathed in blood. Not only was he agile but he was strong too.

He narrowed his eyes, their blades still crashing, and jumped back, rotating the knife in his hand for a moment. He needed to get out of here. Not only because of his own wounds but because of Mister. He didn’t know how severe his injury was but he needed to get him to his Miss as soon as possible so this had to be quick. He wasn’t the only one thinking this because, the next moment, the other man started running.

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

He recognized his own smile, only one corner of his mouth lifting, sharing with the world a part of him that had been well hidden most of the time but that he couldn’t simply ignore in the middle of a fight. That strange thirst for blood that told that the only thing he ever knew before being here had been shadows, war and murder. Accepting that part of him for the moment and forgetting about his own pain he ran after him. He could hear Kiki shouting for him, her footsteps quick behind but not enough to catch after them. It wasn’t long before Obi surrounded the man, surprising him at his front and before he could react he was pinning his opponent to the floor, a knife to his throat. He wanted to sink it on him so badly, to watch him bleed to death as payment for what he did to Mister. He pushed harder until the first drops of blood tinted his weapon and he saw his own eyes reflected on it. He wasn’t this way. He may have been once because he didn’t know anything else but now…

He closed his eyes. Now he had people to protect, not kill. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t take that burden, even when his body was pleading him to do it. In another situation, maybe, but his opponent wasn’t doing much anymore, no one's life was in danger - or so he hoped. He didn’t have the right to choose to kill him just because he was angry. He smiled thinking that so much time with Shirayuki was rubbing on him more than he was aware of. What would she have said? Probably she would have offered to heal the man, even knowing he was an enemy. She was just that good. So he decided he needed to be a little good too. For her.

“You’re coming with me.”

She was nervous, impatient, anxious. She couldn’t get herself to read, to study, to stay put. She kept pacing up and down the office. She asked a guard about the whereabouts of her knight and, apparently, they’d had a problem with some letter being intercepted on the way and part of the rebellion knew that the Second Prince was here so it was necessary to send him along with Zen’s personal knights - or Kiki and Mitsuhide to her - because they saw suspicious people in the forest. So now the conversation with Zen was pretty low on her list of priorities. First, she needed to make sure everyone was alright.

No one would let her leave the mansion and she tried three different exits without success. So she stomped on her chair only to get up immediately. Doing nothing wasn’t for her. She knew if they really encountered someone out there she wouldn’t be much help but still, she could do something. She had different plant concoctions that could be used as smoke, she did it before, she could do it again. And she was a good healer - or so she liked to believe - so she could treat injuries on the spot. Yet there she was again, completely useless with the only action of ‘worry’ on her vocabulary for the moment.

A white mane of hair appeared at the door, knocking softly on the frame. Surprised, she jumped and turned to see Zen smiling at her while walking into the room. He was… exactly as she remembered him. It wasn’t so long since the last time they saw each other yet she expected everything to be different. She expected to see an ugly guy with cold eyes and maybe a sign pointing to him that said ‘you don’t love him anymore’ as if the fact of admitting being in love with someone else would somehow change who Zen was. But everything was normal. Well, almost everything.

“Shirayuki, you’re as beautiful as ever.”

Damn. That was so not normal. She was so not ready for this at the moment. She blushed without thinking and tried to return the smile. That phrase was so not Zen that it made her skin tickle, and not in a good way, so she had to say it. Because when has she just stayed shut when she had something to say?

“Now you sound like Obi.”

He lifted a hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed, the red starting to show at the tip of his ears.

“That obvious, uh? He gave me some pointers some time ago so I just wanted to try it. For the record, you really are beautiful.”

He wasn’t looking at her now, more like searching for something at the side. She felt herself chuckle. She really loved Zen. She loved him like a really good friend, that was the problem.

“Thank you and please don’t do that again. I have enough with one Obi in my life.”

She hoped her blush wasn’t as evident as it seemed because the things that crossed her mind when she said that weren't exactly just teasing and flirting. Her mind wandered there for a second and then moved to the start of this conversation. How different she felt whenever it was her knight who crossed that door. With Zen, she always had been nervous whenever he was around as if she could break their relationship by saying something wrong or - when she wasn't worried about that - as if she was going to bore him to death.

That was something that never happened with Obi. Whatever the conversation, even the ones that would be boring to every person on the planet except her, he was always listening, making comments here and there and contributing ideas. Lately, she thought he just didn’t want to miss anything she could say even if it was utterly irreverent. And she realized it was the same for her. She was happy just listening to him. And the thought brought an honest smile to his lips, her gaze fixed on nothing, looking without looking to the door behind the prince.

“I’m sorry, I’m just… nervous.”

He hugged her suddenly, leaning his cheek against her temple and her arms pinned between their bodies. For a second she was tense, stiff, expecting more from him, waiting for his face to search hers like it had done many times before. But then she just relaxed in his arms rested her head under his chin and smiled.

“It’s still me, you know? You don’t have to be.”

“I know. That's why I am. I’ve missed you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. She wanted to say that she did too because part of her did. But she had thought so little of him lately, the only times being the ones where she dreaded the moment she had to talk to him. Actually talk to him about everything that happened, everything that has changed. So she went completely still, not knowing what to add to the conversation.

He realized, it seemed, because he took her by her arms and moved her enough to look at her. His eyes were so warm, full of love and understanding, a small shadow on them that could have been pain or even disappointment. It just made her feel worse and she forced her eyes to the floor. It hurt to look at him.

“I know you have something to tell me. I also can guess what it is but I imagine you would like to tell me yourself instead of leaving me with guesses. I won’t force you to say anything, just know that I’m willing to listen and… I would never think less of you and would always care about you.”

Every word made it a bit easier. She was so glad to have found someone like Zen. Someone that even without completely understanding her accepted and cared for her. Someone that wouldn’t pressure her into anything and that would always worry first about other people instead of themselves. Slowly her gaze returned to the blue one and she nodded. There was one thing he said that caught her interest. She looked at him questioningly.

“You can guess what I wanted to tell you? Is it really that obvious?”

The prince chuckled, using his fist to hide part of his smile. That was almost enough of an answer but he spoke anyway.

“You’ll have to tell me first for me to answer that but there are certain things that have been painfully obvious for a while.”

Something in his voice told her that he really had tried to ignore it, to convince himself that he was imagining things, but he seemed to have accepted it. So she was about to basically confirm his suspicions, because after that conversation she had no doubt he already knew, when rushed footsteps sounded from the hall. They stopped just at the door and they both turned to see who it was.

“Lady Shirayuki!”

Shuu caught his breath for a moment, leaning on the frame of the door and sparing a look at Zen.

“Your Highness.”

He breathed as a greeting before turning his attention to her completely.

“Follow me.”

He started almost running again and they followed right behind, looking at each other for a moment, a worried look on both of them.

“They are in really bad condition. Both of them. Mister Ryuu is with them, so I’m a little less worried but still, everyone agreed it was necessary for you to be there.”

They rounded a corner while he was talking and she could feel her stomach turn one and time again. She wished he could be more specific and at the same time, she wished he just stopped talking and they just reached the place they were going towards.

“We have apprehended one of the men that caused this and the other one is tied up in the forest. Our men are currently in the process of bringing him here.”

Another set of halls, another corner, and she started to understand why Shuu was without breath when he arrived at her assigned office.

“Here, please hurry.”

He opened the door in front of them and moved to the side, allowing them to practically jump inside, taking in everything that was happening. The first thing she noticed was Kiki sitting on a chair beside Ryuu who was working on the back of Mitsuhide's head. She was gripping his hand to the point her knuckles were white but he wasn’t conscious. For the place of the injury it was clear he would be out of it for a while plus Ryuu would have given him something before working on it. She breathed a bit, glad that even if in bad shape he was alive.

After that, she noticed the corner and that breathing stopped completely. Her hand moved to her lips to stop the silent scream that wanted to leave her. She ran to it and kneeled just in front of the chair, in front of blooded legs and ragged clothing. Obi’s head rested against the wall at his side, his lip red and a bit swollen, a deep cut on one side that seemed to have stopped bleeding.

He was shirtless, almost the entirety of his lower chest and stomach were bathed in blood. His skin was so much paler than his usual tanner one, a sick blue starting to show. It was so so little that maybe someone else wouldn’t have noticed but she did. Stomach wounds weren’t usually lethal but the blood loss was. And the pain… She could feel her eyes sting just thinking about what he just endured. She placed one hand over his to get him to move and was terrified of the cold it was. She wanted to scream at him. Why?! Why this?! And why now?! Why put his life in danger now that she had him? It was childish and selfish and she forced herself to think another way. It was his job. A noble job. He helped people, saved them.

A bag of healing provisions landed beside her and she looked in the direction it came. Ryuu was already back at work but he answered her unspoken question anyway.

“He insisted that Mister Mitsuhide would be treated first. He wouldn’t even let me look at his wound. To be honest, he probably saved his life. This was… really bad. Worst that it seemed at first.”

The sharp intake of breath of Kiki could have as well been hers. Yes, she had no right to be angry at him. No real motive. She was just… selfish sometimes. And terribly afraid. Afraid of losing everything they had right now. Afraid of everything changing again, this time for the worst. So she had to heal him, save him, no matter what.

He could hear voices and rustling. He could also hear his own thoughts without them being blurry, thank the universe. He wanted to touch his head because it hurt, not as much as before yet enough to make him want to put pressure on it. Someone stopped him, a soft hand keeping his hand in place on top of his leg. He opened his eyes slowly and closed the second a flash of light reached them. He tried again and, this time, his Miss was looking at him, kneeling in front of him. He blinked a couple of times and was about to say something cheeky when she moved her hand with a small cloth to his wound and he almost screamed, forcing his head to the wall behind and looking at the ceiling.

“Now that was just punishment, Miss.”

“Should I know how much time you have been running around with that wound?”

Her voice was cold and angry yet warm and soft. How she managed the combination was something that he would really like to know. He looked at her and her eyes were exactly the same. He realized he didn’t feel the stench of blood, not the pain of his lip and he smiled brightly.

“Long enough to see you again.”

There was a light chuckle somewhere in the room and he realized they were not alone. A pained grunt came to him. He wanted to kiss her so badly, to thank her properly for healing him, probably saving him because he felt he was about to die when they reached the mansion. The only reason he kept going instead of falling to the floor was the fact that he was almost carrying Mitsuhide, dragging his legs between the two of them. And, on the other side, a tied enemy of the Kingdom that he dragged completely because his strength was already failing and couldn’t simply toss it on top of his shoulder. So yes, she possibly saved his life. As she did the moment he met her and decided to stay by her side.

She looked at him with so much warmth and love that he forgot the rest of the people again and smiled only for her. She got up, picking up the clothes off the floor to leave them in a basket, and he followed as it was customary for them. His injury hurt, more so than when he was sitting, but he made no movement to show it. The rest of the room was almost as he left it. Ryuu had moved his chair closer to them and was now resting on it. Something told him that he had been helping Shirayuki with him once he’d done all he could for Mitsuhide. Kiki was still holding his hand but looked at them and, when their eyes crashed she smiled softly. A look of gratitude that he was sure he was mirroring. They saved each other.

At the side of the door in a small cushion was Zen, his shoulder and jaw - that were visibly tensed - relaxed when they looked at each other and both smiled. They were alive and together and he couldn’t ask for anything more. They had a lot of work to do ahead of them, probably a lot of situations like this to come, yet for the moment this was enough.

“Allow me to accompany you to your rooms, Mister Obi. We will prepare something to eat while you rest.”

He was so accustomed to hiding… Well, almost everything, that he almost turned the offer down with some lame excuse as to how he was fine and he didn’t really feel the need to rest. He had just been unconscious for a while after all. But Shirayuki’s voice was almost an order, even when she said it so gently.

“Please go to the room and rest. I will go see how it’s going the moment I’m finished here.”

He looked at her and really, how could he say no to her? She could ask him to go get lost in the middle of hell and he would do it. It was almost scary how one person could have so much power over him. So he nodded and moved painfully to the door, trying to mask his limping under his usually graceful movements and standing there for a second while watching her follow him. His eyes playfully looked at her, a lopsided smile and an arched brow. He didn’t have to say anything more to see the thrown off look on her face and the red on the tip of her ears. He was glad she had a ponytail right now because it was extremely cute and otherwise he wouldn’t have seen it.

What he really didn’t see coming was her reaction. Shirayuki got up on her toes, brought her hand to the back of his neck and kissed him. And it wasn’t a soft kiss either. He could swear he heard some gasps around the room but he wasn’t paying attention. His arm surrounded her waist and brought her towards him, just a bit more, just enough to feel her without touching his stomach. It was desperate, as if both of them realized how close they’ve been to lose each other. How the small kiss with which they parted that morning could have been the last. His other hand cupped her face, slowing the kiss until they were far enough to look at each other. There were so many things they wanted to say that neither of them wanted to break the silence.

"You're the worst and I hate you."

She said, at last, her words so different to what her eyes said that he laughed without thinking, a small flinch taking hold of his body. He was starting to think that he really shouldn’t be up yet but that wasn’t about to stop the mix of happiness and shock that he was feeling. He was almost as shocked as the first time she kissed him because… they were in public. Yes, they flirted and touched sometimes and most people in the mansion believed them to be a couple since before they really were but they never confirmed it so clearly. And, of course, his Master was in the room, looking at them.

It felt weird. It felt right. It felt all kinds of liberating, as if breaking invisible chains that were there since the moment he realized he was falling for her. Part of them broke at their first kiss, at their first night together, yet the rest had been still there, wondering if she would change her mind, if they would always have to hide what they had, what they felt. If it wasn’t from the piercing pain he could have started floating with how light he felt, how free of all weight. So he kissed her again. And again. And again. Small kisses that slowly brought back her smile, mirroring his. Real smiles, both of them.

"If that's what hate feels like, I welcome it."

She was almost laughing at that point, her cheeks a bit more colorful, the small chuckles so funny, so happy he had to catch one of them kissing her one more time before letting go. Her hand lingered on his chest a moment longer after that, almost afraid that their happiness would vanish if they stopped at that point. But she used that same hand to give him a little push in the arm, rushing him to the hall behind them where Shuu was waiting.

“Now off you go. You should be laying down and sleeping. I would wake you up to change the bandages and see how it’s going.”

There was a glint in his eyes. A playful glint said that he was still not ready to end the conversation after that. He couldn’t see most of the people inside or their reactions but he could see Kiki with a knowing smile and an approving look in her eyes and maybe that was enough. Maybe he didn’t even need that. Feeling a bit braver after the scene they made he grinned and added:

“Just because I can’t wait for you to touch me again.”

She rolled her eyes, actually rolled her eyes, but was brightly smiling while she closed the door in front of him, forcing her knight to leave even when she didn’t want to say goodbye, not for a moment. But she knew that he was fine - not in perfect condition but fine enough - and that she still had to talk to Zen.

She looked at him at the side of the door and was surprised to see him exchanging looks with Kiki, both of them containing their laugh as best as they could. The prince even had a hand over his mouth and she gifted him with a ‘really?’ look. This was what she was nervous for? Kissing Obi in front of them had been a lot more terrifying than jumping off a tower. She didn’t want to be seen as… as the things people usually called women that played with men. But she wasn’t playing. She just changed over the years. Her feelings changed. Could she really have been blamed for it?

“For a moment there I thought you just did it because damn, he almost died and you were relieved but that was not a first kiss. So… when did that happen?”

Kiki had calmed herself and now was clearly out for answers. Sitting here for hours just worrying must have made her need to take her mind out of that problem a lot bigger. Sighing she moved to sit beside the prince, who also had stopped almost laughing and was looking at her with a smile and a warm and questioning look that supported the knight’s question. Surprisingly, Ryuu also moved his chair closer, visibly interested. She inhaled deeply before starting.

“I can’t say exactly when it started for me. I can’t even say when I started to realize that it was happening. One night a couple of weeks ago I just… It was too much. I needed to be closer to him. So I kissed him.”

She looked away, embarrassed. It was her fault they were in this situation, to begin with. She didn’t exactly know why she felt bad talking about it, as if she were betraying them by being honest with herself.

“Mitsuhide owes us now.”

Zen was looking at the blond knight with an amused expression after hearing her words and he nodded, shrugging his shoulders.

“I told him that Obi would never be the one to shatter that wall. He’s been in this situation for years after all. And he’s always been trying to push us together.”

He shook his head, a bit of sadness in his eyes when he spoke again. There was that tone on his voice again, the one that said that he only understood everything now and that he was better off before.

“Honestly I don’t know how he could.”

Shirayuki was looking at them as if suddenly their hair was the same color as hers. She was confused and felt left out of the conversation. They knew? Or at least they knew about his feelings. Since when? She remembered him telling her something about how long he’d loved her but she didn’t think it was so much that their friends in Clarines already knew and, by the looks of it, they’ve known for a long time.

“W-wait, wait. Did you all know?”

One by one the three people that were with her - and conscious - nodded. She shook her head in an automatic movement. She should have seen it coming. He was extremely honest most of the time - the only times he really wasn’t were when he was pretending to be fine, hiding a wound or an illness. And she knew he just didn’t want to worry her. Luckily for her, those moments have been fewer and fewer lately.

Ryuu looked at them thoughtfully, wanting to add something but thinking carefully about exactly what. When he spoke his voice was a bit deeper than usual, his tone a lot more lively than when he had been working before.

“He never told me directly and I didn’t really need confirmation but… one day I asked him: Why don’t you tell her? His answer… I didn’t push after that. He had his reasons and, honestly, they were good ones. But I’m glad it worked out in the end.”

He smiled at her and she reciprocated it. She wondered what would have been her reaction if he’d told her before, if it hadn’t been her who did something but him. Part of her thought that she would have rejected him and all their relationship would have changed suddenly. The other part of her, the one that was completely sure about her feelings, said that she would have kissed him back, that something would have clicked in her head the same way it did a couple of weeks ago and she would have realized sooner that he was the one. The real one for her.

It would have been a gamble the same way it had been when she kissed him. Yet something told her they would be in the same situation now because… she couldn't imagine a life beside Zen anymore. Not as his partner, not as his princess, not as his wife. If she was honest with herself she stopped imagining something like that so long ago she forgot about forgetting it.

When Shirayuki looked at the prince he was looking at her, almost admiring her deep-in-thought look.

“You know? I’m glad too. I thought, still do sometimes, that we could have worked. But I’ve heard what people say, I’ve seen it in both of you every time we’re together. That kind of connection… I can’t understand it, I can only see it from outside. And you deserve someone like him. I should have told him long ago.”

There was a sad chuckle in his voice that would have broken her were it not for the way his eyes were bright and honest. He really was happy about it.

“Every time he told me that I deserved you and that only I could make you happy… I already knew it wasn’t true. Yet he didn’t seem to realize that the times when you were really smiling and laughing were always with him. So…”

He picked up her hand between his, caressing her skin slowly with his fingers.

“I still care about you and I know you understand that my feelings are not just going to float away suddenly but I’m really happy for you both and you would always have my support and my friendship if you still want it.”

Her eyes filled with hot liquid and her lip started trembling. It was exactly what she wanted to hear. Word by word. At the corner of her eye, she could see Kiki nodding emphatically, possibly wanting to say that she would be there for her too. Ryuu was blushing and also nodding, his hand pulling from his clothes until his mouth was almost hidden. That was an Obi gesture and her heart warmed to see it replicated on the young boy. He was starting to imitate - unknowingly or not - various behaviours of her knight. She had yet to decide if that was a good thing or not.

Returning her gaze to Zen after the quick inspection and now that she had blocked her tears she launched at him, practically jumping into his lap, and hugged him. How was she so lucky? What did she do to deserve such wonderful people in her life? Kiki joined the hug from the other side of the cushion and Ryuu wasn’t much for hugs yet moved a hand to her shoulder and squeezed a bit to let her know he was there too.

She couldn’t stop them anymore. She started crying, surrounded by people who cared and loved her and all the tension, the jitters, the almost-lost-someone-today feeling disappeared slowly with every intake of breath. That was it. They were free to pursue their feelings, they were still loved, they still had their friends, the ones that made both of them stay in the first place.

They still were a family.

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nalgenewhore · 3 years

Text

masterlist - ao3 - day three - day five

<3<3<3

TW: Mentions of PTSD, Psych Wards, Mentions of Child Abuse/Abuse, Gaslighting

<3<3<3

It’s so late. She’s exhausted after being on her feet for fourteen hours.

Elide wants two things.

One: The hottest, longest shower she’s ever had.

Two: The piece of chocolate cake she bought, but hasn’t had the time to eat yet.

As she drives home from the hospital, she nearly falls asleep at the wheel. Elide snaps her eyes open and sits up straighter. Opening her window, she hopes that the bitter winter wind will encourage her body to stay alert.

It works well, and she starts to shiver, her teeth chattering lightly. She keeps the window open still.

At a red light, her phone starts to ring. It’s in her bag, on the passenger seat, and Elide ignores it. The important people in her life text when they need something and she’s driving anyway.

Her apartment building isn’t far from work, so she’s home shortly. After she parks in her unit’s assigned spot, her phone rings again. Elide reaches over and fishes it out. When she sees her girlfriend’s contact, she smiles and happily accepts the call. “Hey, you. I’m happy you called.”

“Hi, love,” Lorcan says, her voice distant and shaky. “Are you at work?”

“No,” Elide frowns at Lorcan’s voice, worried. “I just got home. Are you alright, Lor? You sound upset.”

It takes a couple seconds for Lorcan to reply. “I’m- I… can you come over? I- I just really want to see you.”

Immediately, Elide re-clips her seat belt. “Of course. I’ll be there soon, honey. Do you want me to stay on the line?” She waits with wavering patience, trying to force calmness for her obviously distressed girlfriend.

“Yes,” Lorcan all but confesses, like she’s ashamed to have needs, “please.”

“Good. I missed you today,” Elide puts the phone on speaker and places it in the centre console’s cup holder. “And last night.” She fakes a pout, “It’s so cold without you.”

Lorcan chuckles, the sound forced and choked, “Yeah, ‘m sorry I couldn’t be ya personal furnace, princess.”

Elide smoothly changes lanes, “You should be. Anyway, I’m glad you called. I showered at work and was probably going to crash the minute I got home.” There comes another red light and Elide stops in the left turn lane. “Work wasn’t too busy, just so gods-damned long. I had rounds at five AM, hon, but I got to scrub in on a femur repair today.”

Both of the women know that Elide’s chatter is so that Lorcan can be distracted. Lorcan makes minimal comments and mostly communicates in monotonous hums.

Elide parks in front of Lorcan’s building and picks her phone up, taking it off speaker. She holds it to her ear, “I’m here, Lorcan. Buzz me in?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you,” Elide says, biting her bottom lip.

Lorcan’s voice is soft and warm, “I love you, Lee.”

They both hang up and Elide gets out of her old Ford Explorer. She walks to the lobby and presses the button next to Lorcan’s unit number.

“‘llo.”

“It’s me, Salvaterre.” The locked doors buzz open. “Thank you, honey.” Their friends don’t understand how Elide can call her six-foot-seven girlfriend ‘honey’ but it just fits, and Lorcan melts when Elide calls her such.

Elide pulls the door open and walks to the elevator. Lorcan’s building is relatively new, so the ride is short and smooth. Elide steps out on the thirteenth floor and goes down the hall to Lorcan’s apartment. Knocking on the door, Elide waits on the doormat in relative calmness.

The door is opened a few moments later. Lorcan stands in a ratty t-shirt and rugby shorts, one hand on the doorframe and one on the doorknob. “Hi.”

Elide grins and rests her hand on Lorcan’s arm, “Hey. Can I come in?”

Lorcan nods mutely and steps out of the way. She lets Elide in and closes the door. The petite woman hangs up her jacket and toes off her shoes. When she stands back up, Lorcan wraps her in a long, tight hug. Elide melts against her girlfriend and slides her arms around Lorcan’s broad shoulders.

She slides a hand through the loose hair at the back of Lorcan’s head and the other soothes circles between Lorcan’s shoulder blades. “Honey, I’m here. I’m right here.”

Lorcan nods again, “I know. Thank you for coming.” She drops her hands to the backs of Elide’s knees and easily picks her up. Lorcan wraps her girl’s soft, warm thighs around her waist. Elide smiles.

Lorcan walks them into her room and doesn’t turn on the lights. She puts Elide down on her bed and sits down on the edge of the mattress, not knowing how to say what she needs to.

Elide gets up, “I’m going to get changed and go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Lorcan hums and her eyes silently track Elide as she moves around.

She trades her athletic shirt and scrub pants for a long sleeved skate shirt of Lorcan’s she had cropped and a pair of compression shorts. Her hips swing as she pads into the toilet. Lorcan stretches out on her bed and stares up at the rotating ceiling fan.

Her father never calls. He never contacts her.

The last time she saw or heard from him was seven years ago, and the subsequent PTSD episode landed her in the psych ward for a month.

Right now… she’s fine. She’s- she’s fine.

Since he called her this afternoon, since she heard his low, threatening voice - the voice that haunted her childhood and nightmares - Lorcan’s been in a state of shock.

Her phone rang. Not caring to see who it was, Lorcan picked it up and held it to her ear, “‘llo.”

“Now, I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to greet your father, Lorcan.”

Her blood ran cold and her heart stuttered to a stop. The report she’d been working on was forgotten. “C-cillian?”

He clicked his tongue and she flinched. Her hands began to shake as she remembered what used to happen when he clicked his tongue. Her father clicked his tongue when he was upset, not angry. Whatever punishment he doled out after he clicked his tongue was always worse, because he wouldn’t be blinded by rage.

No, he was meticulous. Careful.

“How are you, Lorcan? That mother of yours told me you’d moved to Perranth. She tells me you have a girlfriend, too.”

Still shaking, Lorcan asked, “You… you talked to my mom?” He knows about Elide.

“Sure did. You know, I was almost certain that you knew about my house in Perranth. It hurt that you didn’t ask to rent from me.”

“Why can’t you leave me alone,” Lorcan whispered, trying to block out the memories and flashbacks his voice triggered. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Now, I know I’ve been gone for a while, but I am your father. I deserve the chance to make it up to you.”

Nothing can ever make up for what you did to me, Lorcan thought. She closed her eyes and the tears she hadn’t known were forming spilt down her cheeks. “Please,” she said, “just- just leave me be. Leave my mom and the twins be.”

Cillian sucked on his teeth, “Don’t be selfish, girl. You were such a difficult child. It hurt me so much to discipline you like that, but I had to. You know that.”

“Good-bye, Cillian,” Lorcan said, her entire body trembling. “This conversation is over. If- if you attempt to contact me again, I will file a restraining order.” With strength she didn’t exactly know she had, Lorcan hung up and immediately blocked the number.

“Lorcan?”

She sits up suddenly, her heart beating quickly. Of course, it’s only Elide, so she relaxes. The mattress dips as Elide crawls back into bed. She rubs Lorcan’s tattoo-marked thigh, where there is hardly any skin left untouched by ink. “Do you want to be under the blankets?”

“Yes.”

Lorcan and Elide move so they can lift the duvet and quilts. When they’ve settled, Lorcan rolls onto Elide. She spreads Elide’s legs with a hand to fit flush against her and rests her head on Elide’s tits.

Elide chuckles softly and scratches Lorcan’s scalp, “You big softy.”

Lorcan works her arms around Elide’s waist and exhales slowly.

“Do you want to talk or sleep?”

“Talk.”

Elide nods, unseen by Lorcan and kisses the top of her girlfriend’s head, “Ok. You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do,” Lorcan responds, unconsciously hugging Elide tighter. “I… I need to.”

“Ok, honey.”

It takes a full minute for Lorcan to speak another word. “My… Cillian called me. I was at work.”

Elide stiffens, her hand stopping in Lorcan’s hair, “Your… your father?”

A nod. “He talked to my mom, El,” Lorcan whispers, trying not to cry. “He- he knows that I live here. He knows about you .” A shuddering sob escapes her and Lorcan shakes. Her eyes screw shut. “I ca-an’t make him leave. ”

In her chest, Elide feels her heart crack in two. She kisses the top of Lorcan’s head and scratches a loop between her shoulder blades. “He’s gone. You’re with me. You’re safe.”

Lorcan still cries, her grip desperate and greedy.

Soon, she grows quiet and nudges Elide’s neck with her nose. “I love you, Lee. So much.”

“I love you too.”

As she lifts her head, Lorcan searches Elide’s face. She tilts her chin up and kisses the ‘v’ between her brows, and then presses her lips to Elide’s. Just for a moment, nothing but a mere touch. Lorcan rolls them and sits up, pulling Elide’s knees around her hips. Elide squeaks at the sudden movement, and quickly settles, looping her arm around Lorcan’s neck.

Lorcan clasps her hands around Elide’s waist and stretches her long legs out. She rests her chin on Elide’s shoulder and closes her eyes, “I want to be fine. I-I want to be fine.”

Elide lifts her head, her face directly in front of Lorcan’s, “I know you do.”

“I’m so tired,” Lorcan whispers, a confession.

Her girlfriend’s eyes mirror her exhausted, drained state. Her fingers are soft and light as she traces them over Lorcan’s features, “I know that too.” Elide climbs off of Lorcan’s lap and chuckles at her whine of protest. “You baby. Lie down.”

Lorcan grumbles, but does as she’s told.

“On your side.”

Again, she complies. She moves her arms, ready for Elide to slip into them and to hold her close. Instead, Elide slides her arms around Lorcan’s waist, her chest pressing against Lorcan’s back. For a moment, Lorcan stiffens and looks down in silence, sort of confused at the new position. She’s- she’s never been little spoon. Her girlfriends were always shorter than her, and it just made sense.

Elide kisses the nape of her neck and doesn’t pull away as she asks, “Is this ok?”

Lorcan carefully eases into Elide’s hold. Their legs move and Elide’s is stretched over her hip. She grips Elide’s thigh and nods, “Yeah. ‘t’s kinda nice.”

“Kinda?” Elide teases, her grin spreading across Lorcan’s skin.

A slight, barely-there smile curls Lorcan’s full lips. “I feel safe, Lee.” She takes Elide’s hand and kisses her fingertips, “You make me feel safe.”

<3<3<3

@ladyverena @ladywitchling @mythicaitt @sassyhobbits @darklesmylove @julemmaes @letstakethedawn @cicada-bones @highladyofthegentry @darlinminds @nahthanks @sjmships @eyllweambassador @flamingveritas @adelzd-bookblr @somewhatdynamite @woollycat22 @firestarsandseneschals @the-regal-warrior

#femslash february #fem!elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #fem!lorcan salvaterre #isa writes lesbian shit #nalgenewhore

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magicrowiswritingstuff · 3 years

Text

Part 2: “Dead Trickster” – Gabriel x female!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 (you’re here!) | Part 3 | ...

Summary: This is the second part of “Dead Trickster”! So it ties into its story line which now takes place roughly during Season 2/3. The Reader is sure that the trickster couldn’t have been defeated so easily. Even though nobody believes you, you decide to keep an eye out just in case. It seems for a good reason when strange occurrences start to happen around you.

Warning: swear words, violence/fighting mentioned, slight suggestive themes (if any)

Category: general rating

Words: about 4.000

Note: I’m so sorry for not posting anything and my general inactivity. I’m having a very rough time and trouble concentrating on writing. 2020 is an absolute shit year and I feel like I’m constantly having a mental break down for the last couple of days. Fun :) On a brighter note, I finally managed to finish this chapter and the third is already in the works. Let’s pray I can get my shit together.

Note 2: Also! We almost hit 100 Follower ... I really can’t believe this. Thank you all so much for enjoying the little pieces I managed to post. Now I feel even more bad for not being that active ... Should I do something if we hit the milestone? I feel like not many people are activly responding to my writing so I’m asking directly: Is there something you want me to write? Something I can focus on to stop my thoughts? Just let me know ...

_________________________________

Part 2 “Dead Trickster” – Gabriel x fem!reader

It has been many months now, maybe about half a year, after Dean had killed the trickster in that school and even though you had been so sure about it then, you slowly doubted if he really was still alive. Nothing out of the ordinary happened since then. Maybe he really did die that day. Or he was really good at laying low. You had stopped actively looking for any signs and just concentrated on the current hunts with Sam and Dean because you noticed you would get very grumpy after staying awake nights on end, trying to find any signs that weren’t there.

At the moment you were stuck in some small town in another motel room with Sam and Dean sharing the one next to yours. Apparently, there was a ghost in town that forced people to kill themselves just like the ghost had. You had stayed behind in your room researching the towns history, trying to figure out who the ghost might be while Sam and Dean had drove to the latest killing scene. You weren’t really in the mood to leave the small room so you had volunteered to stay behind. You texted Dean the last bits of information before turning off your laptop, setting it down on the coffee table and walking to the small bathroom. You refreshed your face with cold water, it was too damn warm in this town. You had bought some ice cream -another reason why you stayed behind today, you wanted to eat it without worrying Dean would steal it- and you were more than looking forward to it. But when you opened the small fridge you found nothing but the empty packaging there. Furrowing your brows, you froze. “What the hell” you whispered, grabbed the packaging and threw it in the trash. So much for your ice cream. Had Dean found it after all? But how?

Your phone rang before you could think more about it. You looked at the name on the display. “Perfect timing” you laughed and accepted the call. “Hey, (Y/N). Quick question: Are you sure-“ Dean started but got interrupted by you. “Dean, did you eat my ice cream?” you asked and sat down on the small couch. “What?” Dean sounded genuinely confused. “The ice cream I hid in the motel fridge?” you pressed. “You had ice cream? And you were hiding it from me?!” So, it wasn’t Dean then. “Dean, give me Sam” you demanded, interrupting his playfully offended speech. “Alright, but I’ll remember this, (Y/N). I won’t ever share my fries with you again, this is treason.” You chuckled: “Yeah, yeah. I’ll remind you when I’m stealing them again.”

Then the line went silent for a few seconds before you could hear Sam’s confused voice. “(Y/N), what’s the matter?” “Did you eat my ice cream?” you came straight to the point. “Ehm, no. What ice cream?” Sam also sounded genuine. How could it not be one of them? You paused. How could anyone steal your ice cream when the only time you left your room since you bought them was when you had gone to the bathroom just now? Sweet-tooth … “Never mind” you slowly said and absentmindedly stood up from the small sofa. You rotated around your own axis, inspecting the whole motel room. “Call me if you need me there” you canceled the phone call after that, completely forgetting that Dean had called to ask you a question (but he seemed to have forgotten it too) and put your phone into your pocket. Just when you thought you would never find any prove …

“I know it was you, trickster” you spoke into the empty room, feeling only the slightest bit silly because of it. Tricksters were sweet-tooths and how should have anyone else stole your sweet snack right under your nose when you had been in the room all day. “I knew you weren’t dead” you said, not able to suppress the smirk stretching your lips slightly. You waited a few moments but nothing moved, no one spoke up. But you knew it was the only plausible option. And even if you wouldn’t catch him now, he would show up again. He was a trickster after all and he wanted to play. You just had to wait.

_______________

“So, where exactly is the supposed vampire nest? Not just in the middle of this town, right?” you asked Dean. He had got a phone call from a hunter earlier that day who had told him that a new vampire nest had settled down somewhere here. The older Winchester shook his head. “No, it’s in a barn a few miles from this city” he explained and left the car without another word. You looked at Sam who only shrugged his shoulders and also got up to follow his brother. You sighed, grabbed your backpack and were about to leave the car as well when you felt the ghost of a hand on your shoulder. Flinching you spun around. But there was no one there since you were in the backseat. Furrowing your brows, you hastily jumped out of the car, trying to shake your paranoia off. You were here for a vampire nest and not a ghost hunt. You must still be a little spooked by the last one. You had seen many ghosts in your hunter life but that one had been the most terrifying looking yet. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the images. “Why are we here then? And not searching for the barn?” you asked after you had closed the car door behind you, jogging after Sam and Dean. “I need something to eat” Dean explained. You laughed when you caught up with them. “I should have guessed.”

The three of you walked into the dinner Dean had been eyeing all the time. The establishment was rather full but luckily someone left his seat just when you were standing in the door. They brushed past you which made you look up at them, meeting their golden gaze. You froze, letting the small backpack fall from your hands and to the ground. Your eyes followed the sound and when you looked up … he was gone. You looked around but he was nowhere to be seen and the door leading outside was untouched, still closed and no bell sound signaling that someone had just left. But you hadn’t imagined this. No, it had been him. You were sure. You remembered those eyes. “(Y/N)?” You tore your gaze away from the windows and turned to face Sam who gestured you to sit down beside him. You grabbed your bag and forced your feet to move. “Please tell me you saw him” you begged when you had sat down and suppressed the shivers of your body by tensing up. “Who?” Dean asked, looking up from the menu he had snatched from Sam. “The trickster!” you whisper-shouted. Sam and Dean shared one glance before looking at you again. “I saw him, I swear. He just left!” “I think you’re still spooked by the last hunt. There weren’t any alien sightings for months now, (Y/N)” Dean chuckled, putting the menu back on the table. You threw him an angry glance. “No!” you huffed. “I know what I saw. I told you that he wasn’t dead!” “Order some food and relax, (Y/N)” the older Winchester pushed the menu out of Sam’s reach and over to you. “You’ve been on edge ever since we left that school.” You rolled your eyes, shoving the menu to Sam and put your head on your palm, looking out of the window. You opened your mouth, about to give Dean a piece of your mind when you paused. A wide grin flashed threw a crowd of people, honey colored eyes starring right at you and the only thing you were able to do was to stare right back with your mouth wide open. A few people walked by the window and when they were gone the brown-haired trickster had vanished once more. Pressing your lips into a thin line you moved away from the window, muttering angrily under your breath. “Bullshit.”

“Not so happy to see me? I thought you were keeping an eye out for me.”

You flinched, looking over your left shoulder but the only one near enough who could have said something was the waitress walking to your table. But that hadn’t been her voice, you knew that cheerful tone that had whispered in your ear. When you glanced at Sam and Dean, they seemed unbothered. They hadn’t heard a thing. Oh, so that was how he wanted to play? Making you lose your mind trying to convince Sam and Dean about his presence when they weren’t able to see and hear him. You bit your tongue. “Fuck you” you whispered under your breath. “What?” You turned around to face Sam and waved him off. “Nothing. Just tired.”

The vampire nest had been dealt with the next day. They hadn’t begun turning the people yet, so it was rather easy to get rid of them all. Now you were back on the backseat of Dean’s car with your arms crossed before your chest and looking bored out of the window. The three of you had been on the road for about three days again. “Found anything interesting yet?” you asked Sam and leaned forward, putting your arms on the back of his seat. He slightly turned around in his seat. “Not yet, but you can help me if you want?” You eagerly nodded, anything to keep your mind occupied. You grabbed the newspaper Sam had bought at a gas station and was now handing to you. You leaned back in your seat again.

“What about these three deaths? Only a few days apart and all in the same part of a town” you suggested but Sam shook his head. “Already checked that one. They all died differently. No ghostly activity anywhere near there, no vampire nests or werewolf packs. No witchcraft or anything else” Sam threw the papers he had been reading on the floor and grabbed another newspaper. “Just ordinary deaths.” You sighed and got back to reading. Nothing really caught your attention so you just read an article to not get bored again. You don’t even know what it was really about, only paying half attention to the words on the paper. That was until one sentence suddenly stopped. Wait, hadn’t there been an article on that page? You blinked. The whole side was white. You turned over a page and then another and another. The whole newspaper was white and empty now. Except for one sentence. “Having fun yet?”

Your mouth fell open and you let the papers fall to the ground. You didn’t even notice that you were mumbling something until Sam turned around in his seat to face you with one eyebrow raised in question. “Did you find something?” You looked up from the newspapers whose pages were now covered by that one sentence. Shaking your head, you swallowed hard. “No-o” you cleared your throat. “Nothing unusual.” The younger Winchester only nodded and turned back around. Your eyes wandered almost automatically back to the papers on the car floor.

“Having fun yet? Having fun yet? Having fun yet? Having fun yet? Having fun yet? Havin-“ The words seemed to blur in your mind, hugging your knees to your chest you sticked out your tongue.

“Oh, I’m starting to have fun, sugar.”

You flinched, looking over your shoulder but just like the last time there was no one there. Maybe you shouldn’t have challenged him so openly.

_______________

You weren’t having fun. Not at all.

The next prank he played on you made you shiver only looking back at it. For a good week almost every water bottle you opened would have a surprise for you. The most frequent was salt water but not limited to it.

The first time it happened you opened one and took a big sip (you had been running around all night because of a hunt) you immediately spit everything out, coughing for five minutes, leaving behind a huge mess in the impala. Dean had stepped on the breaks in an instant. With terrified faces, thinking the witch they had just killed had cursed you, they turned around to look at you. “It’s salt water!” you shrieked still coughing and handed Dean the bottle. He looked at it confused but took a sip. His eyes immediately darkened. “It’s regular, old water, (Y/N).” You shook your head in disbelieve and snatched the bottle back, warily taking another small sip. Your eyes widen in horror and confusion. “Tha-that’s not possible” you shook your head. “It was salty only seconds ago, I swear!” But Dean was right, it tasted like regular water again. The older Winchester looked at the water on the backseats and sprinkled on the front window and console before turning his gaze back to you. The death glare Dean had shot you made you shrink down in your seat (he made you thoroughly clean Baby the next day). Furious you looked at the bottle, while Dean sped up again, cursing the trickster under your breath until you saw something strange written on the label. “You’re the salt to my sugar, honey.” You cringed, opened the car window next to you and threw the bottle out while Baby was driving on full speed down the empty highway. You ignored the irritated glances from Sam and Dean.

This prank repeated over and over again though. Sometimes it was salt water, other times it was the most disgusting liquid you didn’t even dare to describe because you didn’t want to think about what might have been in it. Rarely it was normal water. You thought you were going insane because whenever you made the Winchesters try it, the water was completely normal again. You grew more frustrated the more it happened. On top of that the golden-eyed trickster had the audacity to show his face to you on more than one occasion. You could always see only a glint of him whenever you were in a town. Sometimes he even brushed past you but whenever you would turn around, he was already gone. And Sam and Dean were still unable to see him. It annoyed your greatly. You cursed yourself for calling him out for his illusion back in that school. Why hadn’t you just shut your mouth and waited for something to happen in silence? You could have kept an eye out for him without announcing it to him but oh no, you just had to make it obvious.

“Oh, I’m starting to have fun, sugar.”

You groaned. His words still echoing in your mind after weeks of pranks and annoyances. You weren’t having fun. You could barely concentrate on the hunts you were on anymore. Just like the one you were on now. Sam had gone into a library, searching for information about the old alleged haunted house of the city, while Dean and you questioned three teenagers who were the last ones to step a foot into the house. “I swear I saw something take Beth down the stairs!” a blond boy said, looking at his friends for reassurance. A dark-haired girl nodded: “I saw it, too.”

“What exactly did you see? A man?” you asked, still playing your FBI role. “A ghost!” the boy yelped. “A … ghost?” you slowly asked and looked at Dean knowingly. Normally you couldn’t really trust confessions about a ghost-sighting because there was always the change that it was just a shadow or their imagination filling up the gaps but since a girl had vanished two days ago after going into the house with her friends you had to believe them just for her sake. “Yes! Please, you have to believe me” the boy begged. “I saw it drag her down the stairs to the basement but-“ “But when we went down to look for her there was nothing in there” a dark-haired boy interrupted. “The room was empty!” “So, where exactly is that ‘haunted’ house?” Dean asked, sounding unconvinced by their statements. The girl of the group stood up from the bench she was sitting on and pointed down a street branching off from the market place you were at, at the moment. “Down there, the very last house.” You nodded and smiled sympathetically. “Thank you, when you remember anything else just call me, alright?” You handed them your number and then turned to Dean who was already walking back to his car with his phone in his hand, probably calling Sam. You were following him, passing through a crowd of people when you heard the voice again. “They can get your number, so what about me, sugar?”

You spun around to see chestnut-colored hair vanishing around the corner of a house. Without thinking you took one step in that direction but were stopped by a hand on your shoulder. You turned to face Dean. “What are you doing? We have to get to the haunted house.” You freed yourself from Dean’s light grip and nodded. “I just-“ you looked back at the corner the trickster vanished behind. He was probably long gone already. Sighing you turned and walked past Dean and to the car. “Never mind, let’s go. We need to get to the girl.”

You and Dean managed to distract the ghost while Sam dug up its body in the house’s backyard (the ghost was already so old that when the person had died his relatives just buried him there). Or rather, Dean fought against the ghost while you searched for the entrance to a secret room in the basement Sam had read about in the library. If the girl was still alive, she should be in there. However, searching for it in the darkness of the basement -the lights were broken down there and the ghost had flung you around the room and you must have lost your flashlight at some point- was hard. You let out a frustrated growl as you paused and held your head between your hands. “Where is the most plausible place to hid the entrance?”

“Need some help, sugar?”

You jumped away from the voice with a yelp, hitting the shelve to your right with your hip. A pained groan left your lips as you bend over, rubbing the sore spot that would definitely bruise. When you looked up you met the honey-colored eyes of the trickster, illuminated by your flashlight he held in his hand. “What are you doing here?” you asked confused, completely forgetting your frustrations with him. “Giving you a hint” the trickster said and walked past you to the desk that was standing next to the shelve you had hit. Taking a step back you tried to get more distance between you and him. “Why?” In the small light of your flashlight you saw the trickster roll his eyes and mutter something under his breath. “Because Dean is lying unconscious on the floor upstairs, Sam isn’t done playing ‘Where’s the pirate’s treasure?’ with a dead body and the ghost will be here soon to get his next play buddy.” “Who?” you asked, eyeing the trickster suspiciously. The brown-haired man turned around to face you. “You of course, stupid!” Your eyes widen and your cheeks grew hot as you crossed your arms before your chest. Just when you were about to give him a piece of your mind you heard the door to the basement open and the heavy steps of the ghost. “Shit” you mumbled and locked eyes with the trickster. “What now?” The trickster grinned at you and snapped his fingers, making the table move away from the wall and revealing a secret wooden door, barley large enough for you to kneel down and crawl through. There was no one there once again when you turned to look for the trickster, only your flashlight was lying on the floor. But you had no time left to curse him now, so you just grabbed your light and pried the door open, crawling through. On the other side you saw the girl sitting on a chair, her body slumped over on the table in front of her. You rushed to her and took her pulse, begging to not have arrived too late. There it was, faint but present. She was still alive. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and heaved the girl from the chair. You had to get her out of here but how? Panicking you looked to the hidden door. The ghost would be here any second and there was no other exit. You looked around, trying to find a sign, a weapon or exit, anything. But the only thing your eyes found in the dim light was the trickster standing next to you. Biting your tongue, you tried to stifle the yelp that would have escaped you other ways. “Need a lift?” Before you could answer he grabbed your arm. And after a few blinks you realized that you were standing on the porch of the haunted house with the girl still in your arms and the trickster next to you. Furrowing your brows, you looked at him questioningly. But when you opened your mouth, he only winked at you and then disappeared. For a few seconds you just stared at the spot he had been standing on before shaking your head. You carried the girl to the car and laid her down on the back seat, taking her pulse once more to be sure that everything was still fine. Then you spun around and ran into the garden, helping Sam with the body.

Half an hour later you were standing in front of the city’s hospital, Sam and Dean beside you. You had burned the ghost and then drove there. The girl was immediately brought in for examinations but you were reassured that she was just very dehydrated and would be fine in a few days, at least physically. Now you stood there, leaning against the wall and just took a long, deep breath. “How did you get out of there with her?” Dean questioned after a while. You looked up at him and Sam, asking yourself if you should tell them the truth. But would they even believe you if you told them that the trickster had helped you? You didn’t even really believe it yourself and you were the only one knowing that he was still alive. “I dragged her up the stairs and laid her down in the car” you lied instead. Maybe you should get at the bottom of this first before you put the trickster back on Dean and Sam’s radar. “You didn’t run into the ghost?” the older brother pressed. You shook your head. “Nope, he must have been busy throwing you around” you joked, hoping it would lead to the questions being dropped. Why were you covering for the trickster? Why were you lying? You didn’t want Sam and Dean to get hurt because of you, you told yourself and nodded to reassure yourself. You had to figure out what his plan for you was before you might bring Sam and Dean in even more danger. You let your eyes wander over the street with a sigh only to catch a glimpse of chestnut-colored hair that disappeared immediately. You gulped and forced a smile on your lips as you shifted your attention back to the two brothers. “Let’s just go and find somewhere to sleep, alright?” You wanted to leave this city as fast as possible.

To be continued: Part 3 is here!

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#supernatural #supernatural gabriel #supernatural gabriel x reader #gabriel x reader #x reader #x reader image #supernatural image #supernatural dean #supernatural sam #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #female reader

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litwitlady · 4 years

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Omg I just know you’re gonna write the hell out of these sleepy prompts haha 37 or 3 for Malex :) can’t decide!

#3 - ‘Don’t be nervous, you can come closer.’

On the radio, a twangy country superstar sings about lost romance and broken hearts. Dirt and debris soaking up most of the sound. It’s midday and the junkyard is quiet. Michael is bent over a brand-new Silverado, engine already wrecked. He swears as he cuts his finger on a jagged piece of metal jutting out where it doesn’t belong. Sucks the wound between his lips and wipes the sweat from his brow. It’s only 10am but the day has already gone on for far too long.

He tosses his wrench onto his workbench and reaches down into his beat up cooler. His fingers glance across the long neck of a cold beer before settling around a half-frozen bottle of water. Twisting the cap off, he gulps down the entire bottle, eyes never leaving the beer. The day stretches out even further ahead of him, sober and sun-drenched.

Back beneath the truck’s hood, Michael cranks away at the broken, jangled mess. After all these years, the work is monotonous. Dull enough to let him loose inside his own head. He tries to drown out his hectic thoughts by humming along with the current song floating faintly from the radio. The same twenty-five song playlist in rotation damn near every day. Except on the weekends which are dedicated to decades past – golden oldies Michael considers the soundtrack to his youth. Lonesome melodies haunting the empty, loveless houses he’d once passed through.

He hums through two more songs, getting lost in his work. So lost he doesn’t notice when he starts to sing under his breath. So lost he doesn’t notice when the lyrics no longer match those echoing out from the radio.

Would you meet me in the middle, could we both stop keeping score

Michael sighs and presses his knuckles into his eyes. Alex’s song sneaks past his defenses at least once a day. And he’s found no cure. Not screaming along at the top of his lungs. Not biting his tongue bloody. Not refusing to listen to music for days on end. Nothing has worked. It always finds him no matter where he hides.

Resting on the truck’s bumper, he pulls out his phone and thumbs through his contacts. Leaving grease smudges behind. He stops on Alex’s number and sits staring – wondering what might happen if he actually went through with the call. Behind him, a soft whining breaks through his thoughts. He ignores the tiny noise at first. The junkyard is filled with whines – bad engines, metal signs blowing in the wind, the rickety roof shifting above the makeshift workshop. But the sound continues, and Michael decides to go investigate. He could use a good distraction.

What he finds is a blue-gray pitbull puppy inside a rusty yellow VW Beetle – windows all busted out and flowers growing wild through the wheels. Little paws propped up against the door, tongue swatting up at his nose. Michael approaches slowly – the puppy trembling and clearly terrified at his presence, disappearing into the car’s footwell.

A dog is not what Michael needs. He sighs and turns his back. But the puppy starts to cry again – more desperate now, lonelier somehow. He spins on his heels and yanks the door open, puppy scrambling away.

‘Don’t be nervous, you can come closer. Not going to hurt you, little bit.’ He reaches down and wraps his fingers around the dog’s soft belly. Picking him up and cradling him against his chest. He’s warm and still shaking, but he nuzzles into Michael’s t-shirt anyway.

A dog is not what Michael needs. He finds an unused crate and lines it with newspaper, tossing in a couple of clean shop towels for good measure. Places the pup onto the improvised bed and watches him squirm around, sniffing at his new home. His temporary new home. Because a dog is not what Michael needs.

He tries to climb out, tumbling over backwards. Tries again with the same results. Michael finds himself smiling – almost laughing. And he forces himself to look away. Digging around in his toolbox for the screwdriver he needs to keep working.

But it’s no use. The puppy keeps mewing and Michael’s heart can’t stand the pitiful noises. He hoses off a dusty hubcap and fills it with clean water. Grabs his phone and dials Maria’s number.

‘Guerin.’

‘DeLuca.’

They haven’t talked much since the hospital breakup. Polite hellos and sad smiles whenever Michael enters the Pony. But she’s the first person he thinks of when he considers his current predicament. ‘Do you have any dog food – or something a puppy could eat?’

He hears her whisper something over her shoulder and then, ‘What – a puppy? When did you get a dog?’

Michael sighs. ‘I didn’t get a dog. But there’s a puppy out at the junkyard. He needs to eat and I’m working. All I’ve got is some stale breakfast bars.’

‘Call Isobel. Or a vet. I’m working.’ She hangs up. He supposes it was too early to start asking favors.

But she’s right – he should call a vet. Or, better yet, drop the dog off at a vet and get back to his very simple, not at all complicated mutt-free life.

He calls Isobel instead.

‘Michael, make it quick. I’m at the Women’s Action Committee luncheon and about to give a speech.’ Other people might sound flustered before public speaking. Isobel sounds like she’s at a day spa.

‘Would you mind swiping some leftovers a puppy could eat and heading over to the junkyard after?’ The puppy in question starts to yip. Finally hoisting himself over the side of the crate and splashing headfirst into his new water bowl.

‘Oh my god, Michael. You got a dog?’ He can barely hear her over the clatter of the luncheon.

‘There is a dog temporarily in my care. That’s all. Can you help me or not?’

‘Not until later tonight. I’m meeting with the mayor about the abandoned UFO museum. We’re hoping to start a women’s shelter. Call Max.’ Someone shouts her name. ‘Gotta go, Michael.’ She hangs up.

The puppy’s ears are soaked. Dripping in the sand as he busily noses about. Tail wagging so happily his entire body wiggles. That’s the first moment Michael knows he’s in trouble.

Against his better judgment, he phones Kyle. ‘Valenti, you’re a doctor. Help me.’

‘I’m not a vet! And I’ve got surgery in thirty minutes. How did you even get my number?’ He hangs up.

Michael refuses to call Max on principle.

That leaves him exactly one option. One terrible choice. He scrolls back up to Alex’s number. But he can’t make his finger press the call button. No matter how hard he tries.

He plops down in the dirt and pulls the puppy to him. He nips at Michael’s fingers playfully and chews a hole in his threadbare shirt. Michael likes dogs – he does. Has always wanted one, but never had the ability to properly take care of one. Having barely been able to care of himself most days. ‘Wonder where you came from, little guy?’ He scratches the puppy behind its ears. ‘Where all your brothers and sisters wound up? Probably safe and sound in warm homes.’ He swallows, hating the emotion that has crept into his voice. ‘Snuggled tight in the arms of some little girl or boy.’

The puppy licks his chin and Michael hugs the puppy closer. ‘But you got thrown away. Or maybe your ran away, huh?’

Scrambling out of his arms, the dog hops back to his water and continues splashing about. Michael returns his attention to Alex’s phone number. ‘He probably won’t answer anyway.’ The puppy ignores him. ‘He has a boyfriend now.’ He rolls in the dirt, little feet pawing at the air. Michael leans back against the Chevy and closes his eyes.

He hasn’t seen Alex in weeks. Has worked tirelessly to avoid seeing Alex for weeks. But he has seen Forrest. Fucking everywhere. The hardware store – the minimart – the gas station. Back at the library and even at the grocery store late one night. In the goddamn cereal aisle.

‘Guerin.’

‘Forrest.’ Michael’s heart beating so hard it breaks.

‘See you around. Enjoy the cereal.’ And Michael had smiled tightly. Watched Forrest leave and imagined him driving straight to Alex’s and crawling into bed beside him.

When he reopens his eyes, the puppy is gone. The junkyard far too silent. Sun so hot everything looks hazy. ‘Where’d you go?’ Michael calls, panic bubbling up in his chest.

That’s when he hears the frantic yapping. He climbs to his feet and jerks around the corner of the Silverado. Eyes scanning the yard as quickly as possible. But the puppy is fine. Better than fine, even. Locked safely in the arms of none other than Alex Manes. Barking and licking at whatever bit of skin is closest.

Alex grins down at squirming puppy and then back up at Michael. ‘Hey.’ The dog barks and bites at Alex’s ear. ‘Is he yours?

The sight is overwhelming. Too much for ordinary afternoons at the junkyard. Michael’s eyes soften. ‘He is.’

#malex #malex fic #sleep prompts #Anonymous #more of the cozy side of the prompt lol

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littlespoonevan · 4 years

Text

okay this took me forever bc i could not for the life of me think of a tattoo to cover up ian’s that was actually like. nice but also relevant to monica (bc despite my feelings about her i don’t want to take that sentiment away). i’m happy with the one i chose though so hopefully you like it too <33

(quick reminder: i’m not accepting anymore prompts at the moment while i work on the ones in my inbox <3)

Ian is standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom brushing his hair back out of his face with a comb when he hears the water cut off in the shower. A moment later he’s on the receiving end of a damp side hug as Mickey winds the hand not holding up his towel around Ian’s waist to balance himself while he leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Mm hey,” Mickey greets warmly and Ian pauses in his ministrations to smile at him in the mirror.

Dropping his comb, he turns and settles his hands on Mickey’s shoulders, absently massaging the divot of space beneath Mickey’s collarbones with his thumbs. “Hey. You doin’ anything today?”

He knows Mickey has the day off and days off for Mickey – especially rare weekday ones – usually result in him not surfacing from bed until at least 11:00 before he has a late breakfast and parks himself on the couch for the rest of the day. But today he’s already up and showered and it’s not even 10am. The way Mickey ducks his head when he asks the question also suggests he does have something on.

Which is a little weird – if only because Ian also has the day off since he’s changing rotation from days to nights this week.

“I, uh, I’ve got an appointment in a couple hours,” Mickey says evasively and Ian frowns.

Mickey only ever talks like this when his dad’s involved and Ian will shoot Terry himself if he’s after getting Mickey caught up in his shit again. “What kind of appointment?” he asks, not sure if he really wants to hear the answer.

Mickey must be able to tell where Ian’s mind goes though because he looks up and rolls his eyes. “A real appointment, dumbass,” he says. “At a tattoo parlour.”

Ian instantly feels himself relax and lets go of Mickey to put his comb back in the medicine cabinet next to his morning meds. “You getting a new tattoo?”

Mickey doesn’t answer right away and when he does the words are mumbled at a barely audible volume. “Fixing one actually.”

Ian pauses, turning around to face Mickey again. Mickey’s busying himself with tightening the towel around his waist, pointedly not looking in Ian’s direction. Ian takes the time to let his eyes drop to the tattoo sitting on Mickey’s chest before he steps forward again, brushing his fingers over Mickey’s forearm and coaxing his arms away from his torso. “Mick.”

Mickey looks up at him, letting Ian pull his arms around his waist and releasing a sigh that comes out more resigned than bashful. “Guess I figured since you’re stickin’ around I should probably make it look the way it’s supposed to.”

Ian smiles even though his heart squeezes a little painfully in his chest. He hates that he ever made Mickey doubt the fact he would stay. He reaches up, running the fingers of his left hand over his name. He does it on purpose so Mickey will see the wedding ring and remember. This is forever now. “Can I come with you?” he asks, looking up from Mickey’s chest to meet his gaze.

“Why?” Mickey says, shrugging like he doesn’t care but Ian can tell he probably does. “The guy said it shouldn’t take that long.”

“Well, if we’re in a fixing tattoos kinda mood maybe I should do something about the one on my back.”

Mickey’s face twists into a familiar grimace at the mention of the obnoxious boobs on Ian’s shoulder before going slack with surprise. “You’re gonna cover it up?”

It’s Ian’s turn to shrug. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I mean, I know Monica’d probably find it hilarious but it’s ugly as shit.”

Mickey snorts at that, a sort of no arguments from me, pal!

“And I’ve finally got enough money put away to afford to get something big enough to cover it. I could call and see if they can fit me in too?”

Mickey considers him for a moment before his mouth ticks up at the corners and his hands squeeze Ian’s hips. “Guess we got a date, Gallagher.”

They’re led into separate rooms when they get there. Mickey had already had a consultation but Ian hadn’t, not to mention the fact Ian’s is a significantly longer job than Mickey’s. He likes the idea he came up with though.

He’d started thinking about cover ups almost from the minute he’d gotten the tattoo but not only had it been too expensive, he’d also had no fucking idea what to get. He still wants it to be something for her because no matter how fucked up things got and no matter what she’s done, he still misses her. But as time passed the more he’d started to think maybe he wanted it to mean a little more than that too.

In the end he’d settled on something that he thought fit for both of them.

He’s had a general picture of what he’s wanted for a while now and when he shows it to the tattoo artist – Benny, his nametag says – he sketches a couple of his own mock-ups for Ian to choose from. It’s gonna take a couple of hours so he texts Mickey while Benny is prepping his shoulder and tells him he doesn’t need to hang around for him if he doesn’t want to.

Mickey texts him back a succinct, “Whatever, Gallagher,” and that’s the end of that until Mickey texts him again approximately forty-five minutes later, saying, “I’m gonna go get lunch, want me to bring you back something?”

Ian buries his smile against his arm where he’s got it braced in front of him in the chair and tries to remain completely still as he texts back.

Ian: My usual. Thank you <3

Mickey: Whatever

Mickey: <3

Mickey takes his time, obviously choosing to eat his own lunch at the mall and kill some time so Ian’ll be almost done by the time he comes back to the tattoo parlour. Ian hears the bell jangle above the door in the main room about five minutes before Benny finally sits back and says, “Okay, you’re all set.”

Ian relaxes in the chair before he remembers he hasn’t seen it yet. He extricates himself from the awkward position he’d been in for the past few hours and makes his way to mirror in the corner of the room, turning around and craning his neck. He catches sight of the corner of it before Benny appears next to him with a handheld mirror so he can get a better look.

It’s perfect.

Sure enough, Mickey’s waiting for him when he comes onto the main shop floor, lunch in hand, and Ian flashes him an affectionate smile before he goes up to the counter to pay.

Other than Mickey asking him again what he got and Ian telling him he’ll show him when they get home they don’t talk about their tattoos on the way home. Not that Ian can really think of much else – he’d been so anxious about covering up his own tattoo, he’d forgotten why they’d even come here in the first place. What Mickey did.

It’s a lot to process – the level of devotion that tattoo shows.

It’d felt like someone had taken a knife to Ian’s own chest when he’d first seen it. Like a giant declaration of all the ways Ian had fucked Mickey up. Now though, now Ian feels it for what it is. Unconditional love.

By some unspoken agreement they both head straight up the stairs when they get back to the house, following each other into the bedroom and closing the door behind them. When they’re stood face to face beside the bed Ian finally opens his mouth to speak.

“You first,” he requests quietly, the moment feeling oddly intimate as Mickey glances down, shrugging off his jacket before reaching for his t-shirt.

Ian watches with rapt attention as he pulls his shirt over his head, eyes zeroing in on Mickey’s chest as soon as he lets his arms fall back to his sides again. There’s tape over it but Ian can still see it clear as day. He lets out a breath and steps closer, fingers hovering above the letters. The extra “l” fits in seamlessly and other than the “h” being a little on the small side in order to make it fit, you’d never know it wasn’t there in the first place.

Ian looks up to find Mickey staring off to the side, a faint splotch of colour on his cheeks, and Ian bites down on a smile, carefully turning Mickey’s chin back towards him. “I love you,” he says softly, darting in to steal a kiss. It’s enough to make Mickey relax and lean into him, which is all Ian had wanted really.

“Alright, your turn,” Mickey says when he pulls back. “Enough with the secrecy bullshit.”

Ian huffs a laugh but obligingly steps back and pulls on the hem of his t-shirt. Once he gets it over his head he tosses it on the bed and turns around, feeling oddly nervous for Mickey’s reaction.

Mickey doesn’t say anything right away but after a beat Ian feels the gentle pressure of Mickey’s fingertips right around the outline of the tape and he knows what Mickey sees. A compass with a rope intricately woven around it.

“I wanted something for Monica but I wanted it to be for me too,” Ian explains, unprompted. He turns to face Mickey again and finds him watching him carefully, like he’s trying to work something out.

“I felt really fucking lost for a long time after everything that happened,” he continues quietly. It’s hard to look Mickey in the eye but he forces himself to anyway. “And I know I kinda have a habit of running away from my problems but…I always want to come home. To my family. To you.”

Mickey’s throat bobs at the last part, hands twitching for a moment at his sides before they reach up to land on Ian’s shoulders. “What’s it got to do with your mom?”

Ian gives him a half-hearted smile. “I looked it up; Monica means advisor.” He lets out bemused laugh, shaking his head. “She’s- She didn’t give me good advice,” he says seriously because if nothing else he wants to remind Mickey that he knows Monica played some role in their relationship ending all those years ago. “I know that now but- she did show me what I didn’t want my life to become.”

Mickey nods, expression softening like he understands.

“And…she was lost too,” Ian adds, blowing out a breath. “I don’t think she ever had anyone like you to remind her she had something worth coming back to.”

Mickey stares at him for a moment, a myriad of expressions flickering across his face before he cups Ian’s cheek. “She could’ve come back for you,” he says solemnly and Ian smiles, covering Mickey’s hand with his own.

“I know,” he murmurs. “We were never enough to make her stay though.” Ian presses his forehead against Mickey’s. “You make me want to stay.”

Mickey doesn’t say anything to that, just draws him into a kiss filled with surety and love. Ian wraps his arms around him and kisses back, pouring everything he has into it. Because really, in a lot of ways, Mickey should probably be the one with the compass tattoo considering all the times he’s managed to make his way back to Ian right when he’d needed him.

But he likes it. The past couple of years he feels like he’s found himself again. And in doing that he found Mickey again.

And he’s never, ever letting him go.

#gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #my fics #sorry if this is bad i'm a lil rusty at the moment #also if they seem more overly touchy than normal it's bc i've been watching too much schitt's creek lmao

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